“Hide your nethers”

Donner Pass to Ashland

I dropped my giant pack, I cut my pad in half, lost the ice axe, bear can. Out went a few clothing items, and I stuffed it all in a 3000 cubic inch frameless pack. In one hour, my base weight dropped by almost 10 pounds. After a four day break at home I was excited to get back on trail. Though I was never heavyweight, at about 17 pounds, being closer to eight pounds makes a huge difference.

My uncle dropped me off at Donner Pass at 6:30 AM saying “Watch your top knot” It took months for me to figure out that was paraphrased from the movie Jeremiah Johnson. I don’t think I’ll have to worry about getting scalped.

With a light pack I made 29.6 miles my first day back on trail, and it felt great! The next morning I arrived in Sierra City to hear news that the trail was on fire to the north. We could either hike a few miles, then get detoured on a road to Quincy, where we could road walk or hitch to Chester. Most hikers were hitching all the way to Chester. So that is what I did. I caught a ride in a small old convertible with two other hikers: A guy named Adam, who I had not yet met, and a familiar face, Dragon-Ant. Since we all had relatively small packs, cramming in a small car was not a problem. One ride later we were eating ice cream in Quincy. Two more rides and a meal later, I was solo, heading north from Chester, unable to contact the post office in Old Station to tell them to give my package to the Trail Angels. So I decided to take it easy and do four painfully slow days.

Its a good thing Drakesbad Guest Ranch exists! Here, Hikers can indulge in fantastic meals at a bargain, and hot springs. Hikers I met here included Cam and Pedro, a duo from the splintered quartet “Chicago Four” I met Alden and Trekker, also Voyageur and his nephew. I had seen them near Sierra City but had not yet talked with them.

The next afternoon Voyageur, Kyle, Alden and I set out towards Old Station and the Heitmans I don’t really know when the others left, I think earlier.

The Heitmans have a tree fort. And I’m not talking about some little piece of ply wood nailed into a crook in a gnarly oak. I am talking about a 300 square foot luxury skybox framed and sheltered with beds and a TV. As I pulled in, a veritable army of hikerish looking types swarmed like insects, gardening, and cooking. Team Washington, Naughty Eyes, Voyageur, Alden, myself and I am sure others were there to partake in Georgie Heitman’s policy of leaving no leftovers and hiding our “nethers”. It’s written on the wall above the dining table. I was careful to keep my legs together.
I took a zero day here preparing for a dreaded section, Hat Creek Rim. Miles of razor sharp rocks! The rim is an old lava field, strewn is “aa” WHich as Georgie pointed out is named for the noise one makes when they stub their toe on it, “Ah ah!”

So, it being July and forecasts for 110 degree temperatures, I waited until after dinner to leave. 12 after 6:00 brought me up on the rim, amid the moaning of cows. I set my alarm and slept for less than six hours, getting up at 4:00 am to get as many miles as I could before it got really hot. As it was, I slept in my shorts without my sleeping bag. By 8:00 I was at the cleverly named “Cache 22” a water cache along the rim. At 11:00 I took a brief, or so I thought to be brief break. I awoke at 12:30, too tired and hot to continue. With the temperature in the shade pushing 105 I set up for a long afternoon break. At 2:30 four stalwart, shirtless individuals trudged through the afternoon heat seeing me under the only substantial tree for miles.

I must have passed team Washington in the evening as I made my way in the relative cool of the evening and into the night. They passed me again the next day while I took a afternoon break at Rock Creek. And once again, energized by a long break, I sped onward in the evening, catching Team Washington within a mile of their camp. Despite the possibility of camp stove made pastry, I continued into the darkness again. I was on a mission to make friday mail at the post office.

I don’t believe I have discussed this, but logistics when shipping food to one’s self can be challenging. Should I do 35 mile days and make the post office on friday, possibly risk missing it and have to wait for two whole days? Or should I take it easy, maybe walking as few as 15 miles. I found myself counting days and miles quite often, trying to keep some sort of semblance of a schedule.

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As I got up from a break just to the west of the Trinity Divide, my knee suddenly flopped, bringing me right back to the ground. This again? I struggled to keep the muscles engaged, and somehow kept up with Cam and Pedro, whom I had caught at Castella.

After seven painful miles the next day, I hitched to Etna. At least I could catch the baseball all star game.

And that was all the hiking I did between Tahoe and Ashland. I would have something to go back for. Five zero days later I felt healthy having spent a considerable amount of time icing, stretching, reading, eating, and watching garbage on TV. Due to the continuing fires, the Marble Mountains were closed and the area to the north was extremely smokey. Sheik Olivier had caught up and we decided to start fresh in Ashland.