As I plugged my phone in Forage raised the issue of where we would spend the night. I realized this was when the conversation had to transpire and I felt a knot develop in my stomach. I responded back to him, “Actually I think I’m going to hike out tonight”
Mule looked at me, cocked his head to the side and questioned, “what do you mean?”
“I think the time has come for me to hike by myself.”
We left Sierra City in the evening, now four with the addition of Lawrence, a teacher from Connecticut. We caught a hitch in a conversion van headed towards the High Sierra Music Festival. Our driver, Alex, had the van outfitted so that he might live out of it. The four of us stood huddled in his kitchen, I leaned against his bed, as we traveled down the winding road towards the trail.
Mule hikes up to the Sierra Buttes.
Out of Sierra City, the trail begins a large climb up to the Sierra Buttes. Forage and I had been admiring them just a couple nights prior when we’d camped up on the ridge before town. Miles of switch backs work their way up from the valley far below. The four of us only hiked a couple miles that first night.
The next day was relatively easy hiking. Even though the climb up to the Buttes was long and somewhat steep and trail was quite rocky, it seemed trivial compared to the brutal climbs, no less steep or long, through snow we’d been doing just days before.
On the north side of the Buttes we could see patchy snow. A few miles down we encountered another hiker who warned us of a traverse she described as “unsafe” and advised us of a potential route, piecing together several other trails, that would save us having to traverse snow around the lake. Of course we, having hiked three hundred miles of snow through the Sierra, had no intention of heeding her warnings. Our perspective on what exactly constituted a dangerous traverse was slightly different.
That night we found a relatively bug free camp in a saddle up on the ridge. As the sun set we gathered firewood. It was the Fourth of July and there seemed no better way to celebrate than to have a fire.
With the fire cracking loudly as flames whipped up into the air, I thanked Mule for his country’s aid in our revolution. Forage brought some water to a boil as he made tea with the abundant pennyroyal around our camp. We passed his pot around, each sipping the tea. It was a cold night but the fire was warm on our faces and the tea was hot going down.
The Northern California section seemed to move quickly from my perspective. Maybe it was the comparatively big miles, the relatively easy hiking, or that we were just having fun. Whatever the cause everything started moving so quickly that much of the section exists not as a chronology of towns and mountains passes like either the Desert or the Sierra, but as fragments—various moments pieced together in a blur of hiking and camping.
The next week we made it to Old Station. Not all hikers go there because it’s a bit off trail and it isn’t really a necessary resupply point. I, however, had decided that I wanted a hamburger so I went into Old Station with Forage and Mule following suit. JJ’s Cafe in Old Station was incredible. I had a burger with Serrano peppers and blue cheese as I waited for the rest of my triad to catch up. When they arrived I got a milkshake made with Black Butte Porter. It was one of my favorite meals I had on trail.
Old Station is just south of Hat Creek Rim. It is a somewhat notorious stretch for hikers as it can be hot, is exposed, and has almost no water sources. We hiked out in the middle of the afternoon heat. Once up on the rim we were treated to incredible views of the mountains across the Hat Creek Valley far below, Lassen to our south, and Shasta well to our north. Forage also found serviceberries and skunkbush berries. We hiked along the rim, dodging the cows that roam around up there, as the sun began to set behind Burney Mountain to our west.
Forage gathers fuel for the fire.
Forage tends the fire.
The next day was a full day of hiking along the rim. I expected it to be rough but I enjoyed almost every minute of it. It reminded me of home as we hiked along in the hot sun. There was abundant life up on the rim with all sorts of flowers and plants we hadn’t seen yet. We were headed to the Burney Mountain Guest Ranch where we would be able to get a meal and, more importantly, ice cream so our motivation to hike was quite high. We made the miles long flat miles along the rim with relative ease and before long we were at the Ranch and considerably closer to Shasta.
Mule pushes the limits of his water carrying capacity.
From Burney our next stop was Dunsmuir. At the Wheelhouse in Dunsmuir we reunited with Lawrence whom we’d lost some time ago. We spent the day eating and hanging out at the Wheelhouse, enjoying the fast internet and each other’s company.
The crew passes time in Dunsmuir, CA.
Around 5 p.m. we caught a ride to the trail. We wanted to make it at least a few miles down trail so we found ourselves hiking in the dark. Lawrence and I were up front, a good distance ahead of Mule and Forage. As we walked around a bend I heard the unmistakable sound of a rattlesnake directly to my right a little up the hill. Lawrence stopped and asked me, “is that a rattlesnake?”
Castle Crags the after we left Dunsmuir, CA.
“Yep. Keep moving dude,” I snapped back as I gave him a push, wanting no part in spending excess time near the snake. I could tell it was a few feet above the trail though not far enough for me to be comfortable. Once we were well past where the snake was I shined my headlamp back over to try and find it. As I did so it continued to rattle at me. As long as it was rattling I figured it probably wasn’t moving and if it was we could hear it. Mule came around the bend a few moments later. I shouted to him that there was a rattlesnake above the trail and he probably ought to move quick. He gave a half hearted jog until the snake again took up rattling at which point he took off towards us. We conveyed the message to Forage minutes later when he caught up but apparently the snake had no interest in him.
Thimbleberries and blackberries.
A week later and I was hiking out on my own towards Seiad Valley. Another long descent, characteristic of most the journeys into towns in Northern California, leads down to the Klamath River where Seiad Valley is situated. The hike down was lined with thimbleberries and blackberries in quantities so plentiful all the hikers on the trail could not consume finish them. I would grab a handful of berries, eat them then as I walked another twenty feet, grab another handful and keep going. I did this all morning long.
The trail joins a gravel road for a long road-walk before town. The road was also lined with blackberries so naturally I continued to eat berries. At one point I decided to step halfway into a blackberry bush to get some particularly good looking berries. I shimmied into the bush reaching my arm out towards the berries only to hear that awful rattle. My heart sank as I looked just past my hand to see, on the hill, about a yard past where I was reaching, a large rattlesnake coiling up. I took off as fast as I could resolving to eat no more berries until I got to town. I told myself that this must be a sign to stop messing with berries and focus on hiking. For the rest of the day I walked in the center of the road.
Seiad Store in Seiad Valley, CA.
Once I got to Seiad Valley I found almost everything to be closed. There are two places one can eat there, one of which has a reputation for the milkshakes, but it was Saturday afternoon and I was not interested in waiting until Monday. Quite frankly, taking more zeroes wasn’t too appealing to me. We had taken so many in the Sierra that I felt it was time to hike and put in some miles. Once I got to Shelter Cove Anthony was planning to pick me up on his way back to Eugene where I would take a few more zeroes so there was really no reason for me to waste time in town at this point. I was ready to push myself and put in some big miles.
I hung out outside the convenience store with the other hikers who were there until Forage and Mule got there. When they arrived we went in a large group over to the restaurant. I grabbed a table with Forage, Mule, and Side Trip. It was time for me to tell them that I wanted to hike on my own. I wanted to get up early see, how many miles I could do, and push myself. When I originally conceived of doing this a large part of my motivation was to challenge myself physically. The Sierra changed what that meant to me but I was still interested in hiking long days, putting in big miles and now was the time to do it. But how do you break that after hiking over 950 miles together you no longer want to hike with your friends? I was sure they would understand but nonetheless it felt like having to break up with someone. So instead I just decided to enjoy my meal with them.
That is, until Forage decided to try and plan out what we would do that night. At that point I had to address the issue with them. Of course they were totally understanding and wished me well. A few minutes later I paid for my meal, collected my belongings, and started off on the trail. It was melancholy leaving them. I’d hiked more of the trail with them than without, both in terms of milage and time, and we’d been through by far the most challenging section of trail together. Hiking away I was excited to get to Oregon the next day but I couldn’t help hoping that Forage and Mule would catch up somewhere down trail. I was going to miss them a lot.
Mule and Forage in Etna, CA