9/8 Beyond Bridge of the Gods

Miles hiked: 7.89 (2155 to 2162.89)
Elevation: +819/-2292
Brushes with poison oak: ~173

Staying with Shazaam kept me and Any Minute Now away from the hiker-filled beer garden/free camping area  which evidently turned several shades of ugly on Saturday night.  Much as I like a fight, the idea of compromising my hike with a drunken brawl doesn't appeal to me.  One friend of ours was seriously injured in some affray; he will not be able to finish due to a shattered jaw. Very sad.  I thank Shazaam heartily for the alternative lawn in her peaceful pear orchard, where we enjoyed the company of her wonderful American Staffordshire terrier for a day while waiting for the post office to open this morning.

By 10, we had sorted out our resupply and mailed some items back to various folks.  If it weren't for general delivery, I can't imagine how through-hiking would be feasible.  Shazaam drove us to the entrance of the narrow, steel-grated Bridge of the Gods and we walked up to the toll booth.  "You guys cross free, but you need to walk opposite the traffic," said the mellow toll-taker, pointing to the left side of the span.  Ya, there's no pedestrian sidewalk, no shoulder, and I knew this beforehand, having driven over the damned thing so many times to count fish and sea lions for the Army Corps of Engineers at Bonneville Dam.  Avoiding PCT hikers from the comfort of a vehicle is a whole damned different experience from walking against traffic on a windy open bridge with a broad blue river waffled under your feet through the grate.  Mildly terrifying, very cool.  I recommend crossing on foot if you ever hike the PCT.  Lots of people hitch because it's, well, mildly terrifying, but, like most scary things, it is exhilarating.

We crossed, took necessary pictures, then began to climb the state of Washington.  Looking at the map, this state is a perpetual climb or steep descent; someone forgot to install the flat parts. My feet hurt thinking about the next 500 miles. Also, as a substitute for moderate terrain, some whimsical forest sprite planted poison oak all over the first 7 miles.  Cute. Thanks. Intermingled with ferns and blackberries and stinging nettle and a thick mass of other green shit is the occasional patch of PO.  I am prone to serious systemic reactions to the stuff, and so is Any Minute.   Slowly, we picked through the plants while climbing ever up and also watching for ankle-turning rocks.  Hiking shouldn't be this stressful.  Finally, at less than 8 miles, exhausted from constant poison oak adrenaline, we decided to call it a nero and quit at the only flat campsite we'd seen all day.  I doused myself in Tecnu and hoped for the best.

oregon side

washington side

wow. that's a big black bear scat.

A Note on Washington

For You Numbers Folks

Since I've had a few people ask me for more hard data (miles, elevation, etc.), I will do my best to provide it daily for Washington.   Since I am now carrying a bunch of batteries (gave up on solar), I will be better able to do the daily data thing.

9/4 - 9/7 Eagle Creek to Cascade Locks

One large climb and descent brought us to the start of the renowned Eagle Creek alternate trail, lauded by PCT hikers for years.  I have hiked Eagle Creek and was very happy to see it again.  On the PCT, though, it is reached via the worst trail I've experienced this year.  Indian Springs is a hellish vertical nightmare which caused me to fall ass over teakettle onto my ankle.  Luckily, nothing broke and I only bent my trekking pole.  There was relatively smooth walking from there to the trail's end, though.  We passed beautiful Tunnel Falls and Punchbowl Falls and Crisscross Falls and High Bridge.  I chewed out some idiot kids camped near us who ignored the fire regulations.  At the parking lot, we took an accidental detour up to Wauna Point (or nearly to there), getting a great view of the Columbia River Gorge.  When we got back on track,  our trail angel, Shazaam, drove us into Cascade Locks, went to Trail Days with us, and put us up after we discovered that the local trail angel no longer picks up packages and we will have to wait for the post office on Monday.  Superb accommodations in the back yard of a huge orchard...she even saved me from ripping through my hole-y pants!

Ramona Falls

Tunnel Falls

9/3 Moving Through Clouds

Timberline Lodge is an amazing structure, a huge Cascade beam construct designed to put depression-era men back to work.  When we left it, I realized that I had never appreciated its function as a shelter and haven until the hurricane force winds and rain of the night before.  Sound, safe and beautiful all at once.  

Any Minute and I climbed down to the Zigzag River, then up again in order to drop to the Sandy River.  Storms threatened throughout the day, putting us in perpetual wind and fog.  We camped high above the Sandy's canyon, taking the first day back slowly and lightly to monitor the offending ankle.

zigzag river

waterfalls everywhere

8/27-9/2 Through to Breitenbush, Up to Timberline

Beautiful Oregon forest, mossy green, paved the way to Breitenbush.  I enjoyed all but the burns, dipping my feet in lakes, grabbing for mudpuppies.  But the steep, abrupt trail edges proved treacherous for Any Minute Now.  I happened upon her far too early one morning, about 20 miles south of Breitenbush,  with her left foot elevated on a log.  The ankle was inflated; she could barely stand.  Gradually, we began moving, and inched the 20 miles to Breitenbush campground.  A series of cold, rainy moments, followed by a few days in Portland, ended with her back on the trail, walking well.  Portlanders took great care of us in the interim.  My thanks to Craig, Nita, Chris, Robin, Magnus, Rebecca and other Powell's folks.

We started out from Timberline lodge (no easy way to get back to Breitenbush) renewed and prepared to finish the trail.

very glad to discover that wasn't the trail

mt hood appears

8/25-8/26 Mordor Continues

Lava flows resume on the north side of Highway 242.  These miles of brimstone and burned forest weave upward, making the lava rock experience especially excruciating.  My new shoes, longer but wider (mens 9.5 EEEE on my mens size 8.5 length feet) tripped me up constantly.  They still aren't wide enough, dammit.  After just a few hot afternoon miles, we settled on a campsite in one of the few flat places.  It was puffy dirt, lava-ringed with a few stout old trees for shade.  

Any Minute and I planned to meet up after a morning's walk at Big Lake Youth Camp.   On the way, I paused to take a photo at mile 2000.  Lava and burned forest finally receded, and the camp, which must have narrowly escaped a fire at one point, was much nicer than the burn had led me to expect.  Tink, Screagle, Timon, Pippin, Birdbath and others were congregated in the Adventists' hiker cabin where phones were charging and relaxing was occurring.  Any Minute was cheerfully sorting the contents of her boxes on a bench outside.  We stayed for a tasty vegetarian lunch, then pressed on, glad to have forest ahead of us again.

Santiam Pass at Highway 20 was very near when a pair of hikers came into view from the north.  Miraculous blonde locks gave away the effervescent presence of one Dr Fierce, and Shazaam with him!  We sat and talked for over an hour.  They'd returned to the trail at Santiam Pass and had walked barely a few miles before encountering us.  So much time elapsed in our catching-up that we all gave in and decided to camp there, since they were determined to continue southbound to Crater Lake.   Shazaam, feeling much better, had decided to give it another try before the PCT season ended.  So, we enjoyed a night of reminiscing and went our separate ways the next morning.

Unique landscape. That's the nicest thing I have to say.

Camping in Mordor

2k

Dr Fierce carries his, my and Any Minute's packs to our shared camp.

8/14 - 8/25 Crater Lake to Mackenzie Pass

Out of Crater Lake's Rim Village extend several footpaths, difficult to distinguish from the PCT proper, but all of which rollercoaster along the deep blue caldera, following the tourist road for several miles.  After presenting an initial spectacular view, Wizard Island stood out in the lake taunting me to complete this populous section and disappear back into the trees.  So many people, cars, non-hikers.  Overwhelmed, we ducked into the foggy morning, snapped obligatory photos, and found trail beyond the roads as quickly as we could.  Lava fields gave way to pumice and soft, puffy crushed volcanic material.  

Forest closed us in eventually, providing a needed sense of seclusion.  Though water remained scarce for a few days, the verdance of Oregon began to show through the drought.  Mt Thielsen appeared the next day, its layered zigzags of color popping up over green canopy occasionally.  We camped in its shadow after crossing Thielsen Creek and returning a lost battery pack to a section hiker named Good Samaritan.   Escaping Crater Lake had thrown  us into the heart of the northbound/southbound confluence.  To avoid the throng camped at the creek, we wandered a bit down a side trail, set up, then were surprised by an equally stunned photographer who had expected to have the side trail to himself.  He was a perfect reclusive neighbor.

On through nondescript, yet beautiful, Oregon wilderness we continued for a few days. We paused to take pictures at the lackluster Oregon/Washington high point.  Again, I ran into Good Samaritan,  this time taking a photo for him at the wooden monument.  Little eruptions of enormous purple and pink mushrooms began to dot the edges of the path.  Soon, cascades of moss and green lichens, mingled with ferns and shelf fungi followed.  I really began to enjoy Oregon's forests again.  

The Oregon Skyline Trail, an approved PCT alternate, led us deeper into thick, magical forests.  Before starting the alternate,  Any Minute had given her paper maps to Good Samaritan, who lacked a decent means of navigation through the network of side trails.  This led to a minor detour up and back down an alternative path to the PCT, though she still made it into Shelter Cove in plenty of time to meet up with me and a dozen other hikers, charge electronics and prepare to slip out of the little vortex with barely a nero.  Unfortunately, after finding a campsite, Any Minute discovered that she'd left her SPOT tracker behind, making it necessary to get breakfast burritos and coffee at the store after it opened the next day.  Not the worst consequence ever.

Through Section E, we encountered numerous enticing lakes and perfect campsites.  Bobby Lake looked infinitely fishable, the Rosary Lakes made me wish for more zero days, and every short side trail to other lakes made me angry that I was confined to this one uber-trail. At some point, the shoulder strap on Skookum's right side broke. I roped it together with paracord, which dug into my shoulder for days.  Finally, at Elk Lake Resort, we stopped to get Any Minute's resupply and take in a view for a half day.  We ate great food, tried to supplement our rations from the hiker box and their pitiful pair of resupply shelves, and camped in the designated crappy woodchipped corner of the campground reserved for stinky backpackers.

North of Elk Lake, more lush forest dwindled, at length, into an obsidian rock garden.  Within the Obsidian Limited Entry area I saw jet black boulders and cliffs rising out of the grey volcanic puffs.  Though I've come across fields of chipped obsidian in the past, rocks this massive were spectacular and unbelievable to me.  There were obsidian campsites and even Obsidian Falls.  The whole experience continues to be surreal, even as a memory.

From the obsidian area, there was nothing but burned forest and huge lava flows to Highway 242 at MacKenzie Pass.  Lava ripped our feet, made us extremely grumpy and caused me to stay in Bend an extra day to mend my infected toe and acquire new shoes while exchanging my pack.  We got some excellent hitches, though.  First, into Sisters, a local gave us lots of geological and historical information.  At Sisters, we saw Tink and Screagle at a gas station, had a brief reunion, then got a ride with three exuberant women who packed us into their Ford Ranger.  They took us to REI and asked us thousands of questions along the way.  On the way back to the pass, Uberducky, a, local trail angel, told us all about the trail angel network in his bright green duckmobile.  Strange and great times.

Wizard Island

Mt Thielsen

Halfway

mushroom eruprion

new pack

obsidian boulder

field of awesome obsidian

Any Minute Now climbs Mt Doom

8/7-8/14 Callahan's to Crater Lake

Jon dropped us off right at the trailhead after a nice light lunch at Callahan's.  Though Callahan's caters to a more upscale crowd than dirty hiker trash, they were very nice and accomodating, even providing a second floor lounge for trail-weary hikers to sit, rummage through hiker boxes and stow their packs while eating in the dining room.  We waved to him, still trying to impress upon him how crucial his help had been to getting us back on trail.  Others had done several days worth of hitching, taken buses, even flown to get back to a hikeable part of the trail.

Water was very scarce in this section, leading us to a county campground in one case, to a very silty lake outflow in another.  Though thicker and a bit more diverse, the southern Oregon forest lacked the vibrancy of the wetter northern portion of the state.  Lava flows began about 40 miles in.  Long lanes of imported red lava rock had been placed to demarcate the path through ubiquitous local black brimstone.  Each step was uneven,  painful and gritty.  Sun blasted us on the open flows.  Fish Lake, another unplanned stop, looked like a very good idea.  

After some good food and an opportunity to use another roll of gauze, this time on a tourist who had fallen on lava rock which had pierced deeply into his ankle (I just bandaged him for the car ride to the hospital, he was going into shock), we got a ride into Medford and got Any Minute some better shoes. The lava rock had broken down both her shoes and feet.

Crater Lake, hub of lava fields, was packed with hikers when we arrived.  Like every other mail stop, we ended up waiting days for some useless employee to pull her head out of the back room somewhere with our packages.  All of our forwarded packages from Burney, Etna, Seiad Valley, etc., were to be shipped to Crater Lake.  Eventually, things were found and sorted out.  Hikers we hadn't seen in ages came through, including Lobster and Trinket, Timon's crew, Pippin, Dogger, Zen Dawg and some other loveable tramps.  While we waited on mail, it poured and hailed.  Very good timing, weatherwise.

Just a little slice of Mordor

Wizard Island

7/31-8/6 Belden to Ashland ( Out of the Frying Pan. . .)

Here began the next whirlwind of activity.  Though some hikers made it through just ahead of us, we were confronted with not just trail closures,  but evacuations of entire resupply towns ahead of us.  By the time we reached Drakesbad, we'd heard that Old Station and Burney were deserted, and that trail closures north and west, all the way to the Cali/Oregon border would make the journey a hitchhiking nightmare.  Like most of the hikers around us, we hitched to Ashland, OR.  Some die-hards did long road walks in combination with hiking the few miles of trail available to them.  Road walks along interstates don't appeal to me.  I came for the trail.

-Climbing out of Belden

From 2200 to 6500 in 12 miles.  Tough start to a section.  Met my first batch of southbound PCT thru-hikers, and they seemed overwhelmingly aloof.  Water was in short supply, so my pack was a heavy beast indeed.

-Lassen

Forest management in this pumice wonderland is given over to timber companies in many places; signs appear to remind hikers how much better off these homogenous groves are under the tutelage of knowledgeable humans.  Things are drab and soulless for miles and miles.  Or so it appeared to this biologist.

-Midpoint

Reached the halfway mark, smoked a Backwoods cigar, took a picture or two (or perhaps a dozen), and waddled on up the trail.  There is much debate over the exact location of the midpoint and talk of moving the little concrete post.  I say it's close enough and awfully arbitrary on a continually changing trail.

-Chester

We hadn't planned to stop off in Chester, but ran into 3D at the trail magic coolers next to the highway and were convinced of the sense of it.  A local dentist was providing gift certificates of $20 to thru-hikers to be redeemed at a local restaurant.   The food and company were excellent, but getting a hitch back to the trail was nearly impossible.   We had given up and were planning to go to a friendly Lutheran church's lawn when a couple of bored local kids called out to us from a gas station offering us a ride.  Ended up camping just off the highway with a full stomach next to some interpretive trail signs.

-Drakesbad Trail Ranch

Some resorts give hikers the feeling that they are second class citizens.  Drakesbad makes it obvious.  Hikers get to buy the leftovers from buffet meals and are sequestered at a picnic table near the stables.  They are invited to the pool showers but not the pool except at odd hours.  Affluent guests accidentally mingle with and show an interest in us, but are quickly distracted by hyper-aware management.  Strangely, they had some useful information regarding the fires burning around us, though, that made our future decisions become clear.

-Warner Campground

What a haven for yogi-ing!  People brought us food and beer from all over the damned campground.  Sadly, Any Minute doesn't drink, so I had to down several beers (can't let things go to waste, man).  Also, as we received more accurate fire information, our plans changed quickly.  Our next resupplies, Old Station and Burney, had been evacuated, and fires were interspersed along the trail all the way up to the Oregon border at inconvenient intervals.  No sensible options remained.  Every other hiker we knew, save one very stoned moron who ended up hitching from Old Station with a fire crew, had decided to get to the relative safety of Ashland.

-Jon Roche

At Warner Campground, there was a nice guy from whom I tried to borrow a map.  He was bored and injured and had been camped there for weeks.  He was kind enough to drive us to Chester, pick up Far Out, then drive us all 200+ miles to Ashland.  Hell, he even reappeared a couple days later and drove us to the trailhead at Callahan's.  Amazing guy.  Best hitch ever.

-Ashland, Land of Indecision

Where do we go and when?  Smoke was thick for a couple days, even in Ashland.  Fire reports were difficult to obtain and the town was flooded with hikers.  Roughly 200 large, indecisive toddlers with ferocious appetites and a need for outdoor accommodations were stuck there, hovering around the entrances to the co-op and brew pubs.  Still lacking information,  Any Minute and I could take no more (and staying in motels waiting for reports gets expensive), and we took off towards Crater Lake.

Belden plaque

Funny because it says "butt." Yeah. We are large toddlers.

midpoint

Chester's famous dentist

I don't want to walk into that, thank you very much.

7/27-7/30 Fire

After a night camped in the back of the Red Moose Inn, we stumbled immediately into the place to collect packages, eat breakfast, and use the bathroom (no outhouses in that small, blackberry-filled backyard is a serious minus).  I sat listening to the hyper-conservative locals and owner jabber away using "Obama" as some newly-minted prefix for awhile while Any Minute was away from the front.  Their talk turned to the smoke filling up the little valley and that it was drifting in from "that Placerville fire."  Light bulb.  Any Minute had mentioned Placerville as her nearest city.  I mentioned to her that she might want to check her messages when she returned.  The owner of the place switched on the news for us.  Her phone exploded with unheard messages as soon as it turned on.  All at once, we realized that the outside world had us.  Her friends, relieved to hear that she'd received the news, came up to get us.  Fires were only a ridge away from her yurt as we rushed down toward the flames.  I had just a few moments to collect my crap and say hello to Terrible and Horrible,  who were now off-trail and doing trail magic, before leaving.

In short, the fires spared her property,  though the bits of charred leaves and ash on the lawn were sobering.  Her next door neighbor had put out a spot catch a few days before from ash fall.  After the danger had passed, her friends took is to Belden Town, where we picked up the trail again.  I cannot thank them enough for their help and hospitality.

Belden was recovering from a multiple-day festival involving lots of dancing and inebriation.  The Braatens brought over our long-awaited boxes (several birthday things from friends arrived there), and we slept on a chunk of lawn after hours of avoiding the afternoon heat on the bar/restaurant porch.  It was loud and our grassy patch was filled with other hikers.  3d and Guy on a Buffalo were quite entertaining, though, and made the night under a huge, bright street light bearable.

Terrible, Horrible and two of Three Canadians

7/23-7/26 Flying Through Sections K and L

These sections were a controlled blur that passed quickly while we scrambled to the Red Moose Inn in Sierra City.  Here are a few highlights:

-Richardson Lake (mile 1121).  Met a member of the White Trash Brigade who demanded a photo of us disposing of our hiker garbage in his garbage bag.  Evidently, he likes to prove to the "Sierra Club Nazis" that he does a better job of cleanup than they do.  He chased off some target shooters by yelling at them, then was saddened that we didn't want to camp with him.  Big surprise, jackass.  I'd rather camp on a sloped hillside with my head on the low end than spend further time with you.

-Barker Pass (mile 1126.1).  There was a senior center group out walking this beautiful area at the same time we passed.  The all-female group was fascinated to see two women on this crazy trail alone, and I felt a bit inspirational.  Certainly, this was one of the easiest passes and a lovely part of the trail.

-Southern Mirkwood (somewhere in the 1130s).  Very uninviting 5 or 6 miles that just naturally makes hikers uneasy.  If there is evil in a forest, it is here.

-Headwaters of the Middle Fork of the American River (1142).  My favorite water source.  After a series of brutal switchbacks, long carries of water along the Tahoe Rim Trail confluence, and close encounters of the grouse kind, I stepped out onto a stunning ridgetop view.  Lake Tahoe below, a gurgling stream very near.  I followed the water sound to where the spring ran below the trail, then drew liters out of a little rock cave there under the trail, almost directly from the source.  Best tasting water yet.

-Squaw Valley Ski Area.  Granite Chief wilderness sounds way friggin cool, right?  Except for the goddamned luxury vacation homes, ski lifts and snowmobile signs everywhere.

-Donner Pass (1154 or so).  I had a great meal at Donner Pass.  No, really. Having given up cannibalism, I settled for a chicken sandwich and fries and pie at the lodge.  Highly recommended.  Cool place that gives hikers a free beverage and allows camping nearly anywhere (though we pressed on a few miles up past Hwy 40).

-Peter Grubb hut (1162.8).  Sierra Club constructed this shelter long ago, and it's still used by hikers.  According to the register, many folks I knew stopped in there and enjoyed the rusty water after so many of the preceding seasonal streams had been dry.

-Haypress Trail (1195.2).  Alternative route to Sierra City.  It took us down into a large campground and up a fairly well-used road to where we hitched into town in a BMW (now THAT'S a hitch).  Nice and quick route.  Ended our first 27 mile day at the Red Moose Inn.

7/22 Dick's Pass

Tink, Screagle and Pippin took off a few minutes before we did, leaving behind a fine, quiet, empty space in which to walk the first few miles.  Desolation's stark granitic landscape has a cathedral effect on me, keeping me silent and contemplative.  Not many miles passed before the huge rocks and sparse vegetation gave way to the usual widely-spaced Sierra conifers with occasional patches of lupine and random asters.

Trees thickened as the path switched back up and around a mountain, stopping to give an annoying half-ass view at each of several false summits.  When we finally reached it, Dick's Pass summit was a disappointing little grassy patch with a sign post stuck into it.  Still, ya have to take a picture at Dick's Pass.  

7/19 to 7/21 Echo Lake, South Lake Tahoe, Power Outage, Package Madness

From our campsite past Carson Pass, we hiked a combined section of PCT and Tahoe Rim Trail.  Views along the rim were spectacular,  as evidenced by the popularity of the trail.   Around 9am, we reached the last thousand feet or so of a steep climb and noticed a group of 20 or more Japanese-Americans ahead of us.  They were spaced according to ability, so the first pair that we passed were an older couple who seemed to have been nominated for photography due to their position in the group.  We waited for them to snap a few photos, then chatted for a minute about the insane endeavor of the PCT.  They cheered us on.  Further ahead, we passed a few more of the group, then met the bulk at the summit.  One young man asked me if we were going from Mexico to Canada, then spoke to the group in Japanese (all I could make out was "PCT").  Suddenly the whole group erupted into rhythmic clapping and back-slapping and compliments and wishes for our success.  Very sweet and horrendously embarrassing.  We met many other day-walkers and backpackers that day, but never received even a smile from them.  The good wishes of the Tahoe Rim Japanese group carried me through all the arrogant white snobbery associated with Echo Lake.

Echo Lake isn't worth writing about, except that they mis-filed the package containing my new backpacking quilt under the name of the sender and could not figure out this mistake for two days.  In the interim,  Any Minute and I met up with Far Out, ate pizza, and stayed in a very packed city campground.  Next day, Any Minute's friends appeared and we ran errands just before a storm knocked out power all the way to Carson City.  We stayed in a hotel and used headlamps until the power returned in the middle of the night.

Back at Echo, I finally got my package, sent my bear can and old sleeping bag to Vegas, and met up with Tink and Screagle, now travelling with Pippin.  We all hiked into Desolation Wilderness that early afternoon,  camping at a small stream with a waterfall.

7/18 Carson Pass

I watched Any Minute's stride sag and slow at familiar fishing spots like Raymond and Fourth of July lakes throughout section L.  As we nearly ran into Carson Pass, where she had planned to call her friends to meet us in South Lake Tahoe, the burden of the familiar was weighing heavily on her.  Carson Pass was her nearest point to home, just a few miles away.  We reached the visitor center at late morning, passing dozens of day hikers and fishermen on wide, well-groomed trails.

There was serious trail magic, an institution among volunteers at the center.  Moreover, the volunteers really seemed interested in our stories and misfortunes.  They sympathized with Any Minute's battle to stay out in the wilderness with home so near.  After months, keeping one's resolve is the hardest part of a long trail.  Plied with cookies, sodas, candy, chips and an assortment of freshly picked fruit, she and I regained some of our will to continue.  Friends were called.  We would meet up in Echo Lake or South Lake Tahoe,  depending on the mail and the speed of our feet.

7/17 Birthday

I don't sleep much, well, or often, as most folks know.  My insomnia has endured through a thousand suggestions from hundreds of people.  I try.  That's the best I can do.  At any rate, I was very much awake when Any Minute Now awoke early, set water to boil, stirred up a trail mocha and brought it to my tent as a breakfast in bed. Perfect start to a trail birthday.  She sat next to the vestibule and drank coffee with me as a spectacular sunrise appeared.  

Drizzling rain gave way to a fairly clear morning and afternoon.  There were no massive climbs, lots of breaks, and plenty of Sierra lakes to draw our eyes and lead to stumbling.  I chased a marmot down into its hole and chattered back at it.  Any Minute told me all about the area, having hiked and fished it many times before.

We both regretted the pace of the trail and lack of fishing time.  Clouds creeped in again, and we decided not to bother worrying about them, but to camp before they could catch us in a shitty campsite again.

With water all around us, we settled on Lily Pad Lake, just off a little side trail and completely unoccupied.  Water skippers and mosquitos skittered on the water's surface; granite and sparse pines ringed the shallow pool.  I watched the fairly colorful sunset through a thin haze of passing mosquitos and biting flies.  Clouds broke apart above, at least for a little while.

I've had better planned and more social birthdays, but this one, alone in the woods with an excellent companion, was incomparable.

Great birthday view!

7/16 More Thunderstorms

Early on, we were poised for a 20 again.  12 miles done by 11:30 or so, enjoying a nice lunch by a water source, one of us looked up and alerted the other.  Same scenario as the previous day.  Deeply gray clouds were amassing in the west, the east and the south.  A huge drawstring bag of darkness was closed over that bluest sky. Drops began and we hunkered in some trees, protected by our makeshift tarp.  We waited through four hours of it, took down the tarp as the sky cleared, and walked another five miles or so.  

7/15 Hail

Determined to get to Belden before the Braatens' trail angel house shut its doors for the year on August first, Any Minute and I resolved to hike together as quickly as possible through the last of the Sierra passes.  Our pace is so similar that I would have been foolish to miss the opportunity to walk with a perfect hiking partner.  Neither of us had begun this adventure with the notion of walking with someone else; we were both a little shellshocked by our decision all day, I think.  Hiking with Shazaam's group had been very different from this kind of deliberate venture.  Good to continue to surprise myself, I guess.

We went up a mountain and had begun meandering along an exposed rocky ridgeline when the fluffy white clouds grew dark.  Few patches of trees appeared along the trail; the light rain was joined by a chorus of thunder.  A couple of lighting flashes convinced us to speed to the nearest copse of pinion pines.  Rain set in, then harder rain, then hail and more lighting.  We sat and talked under a tall tree for hours waiting for it to pass.  The damned sun started to set and a second wave of rain began.  Tents had to go up.  Not the 20 mile day we'd intended.

Every electrically charged moment made me smile.  Feeling rumbling up through the earth and smelling ozone from the bright flashes against angular old boulders is unparalleled.  Eventually, at the end of the show, I curled into my bag and slept for once.

7/14 - 7/15 Sonora Pass, N Kennedy Meadows

Last day with Shazaam and the boys.  I walked behind Shazaam, Any Minute walked in front, and we slowly conquered the switchbacks up Sonora's ancient malachite and quartz depositions.  We stopped frequently, ogling the mediocre views again and again to give the injured woman a break.  Finally near the top, the late-rising Church Lady and Dr Fierce joined us and offered to do some stretching exercises for Shazaam before the descent.  With only 4 miles to the road, Any Minute and I decided that it was safe to go ahead to the road and hitch in to get her resupply box.  We would meet back up with that little family in N Kennedy.

We got a ride quickly, and soon were eating vast quantities of town food.  N Kennedy supplied us with a cabin with a shower, a prime rib dinner with Shazaam and Co., and a nice hiker box for my slacker resupply.  We hitched out and waved goodbye to the boys the next morning.  When the rain started.

7/13 14er

Any Minute Now earned her merit badge for motivating an injured hiker today.  Somehow, over the fossil-encrusted ridges near Sonora Pass, she managed to urge the injured woman along.  The boys and I kept our distance, taking long breaks and fishing. When we all straggled into camp, where Shazaam, Any Minute and Church Lady had been sitting for some time, we had collected Tink and Screagle as well.  There was a large campfire next to the perfectly placed log and stone benches created by the early threesome.  Having a fire is a trail luxury to me, and I really enjoyed it for awhile.  Church Lady and Any Minute made sage bundles for everyone (mine will remain in my hat, because I intend to be around the giver for some time), and Church Lady and Dr Fierce sang Native American chants and some other songs to commemorate their last night on the trail.

After the fire had lost its appeal, Church Lady and I walked down to the small stream and watched the reflected moon wobble in the current.  He seemed relieved that we'd be getting out to Northern Kennedy Meadows the next day, but saddened by the abrupt end of his trip.  I promised to hike with him again sometime in the future.

7/12 Any Minute Now Takes Control at Mile 1000

Far Out and I hung back lazily in the morning, stopping to look for animal tracks in the mud, taking long breaks and consuming more food than we should've in rationing times.  When we reached mile 1000, everyone was sitting there waiting on us for group photos.  I felt like an ass.  After the photos, Any Minute stood and Shazaam stood with her, engaged in an engrossing conversation and ignoring the rest of us.  They began walking.  They continued walking.  When hiking with Any Minute, Shazaam seemed to develop superpowers.  A 12 mile day!  

Church Lady, Far Out, Any Minute Now, Shazaam, and Dr. Sasha Fierce