Category: Pacific Crest Trail

“The Herd” should be at least 400 miles along by the time I hit the trail. Unless they come back to hike a section that they skipped because it was icy or on fire, I shouldn’t have to deal with them for a month, maybe more.

The Herd is a teeming rat king of 50-75 hikers that hike within a day or two of each other. Last year, I would meet people, who were hiking in the opposite direction, that would tell me about them. They would shake their heads and laugh and say they weren’t like hikers. There was one report that they had drank up an entire town’s beer supply.

For a long time, I would just hear about them; I was meeting few hikers. The reports started getting closer and closer to me. Then, one early morning, as I was walking on the aqua-duct, all these hikers started rising off the desert floor and joining me. It was like something out of “Night of the Living Dead.” I knew if I couldn’t get out of that mire of hikers my trail would be done. Through fear spawned tenacity and great effort, I quickly escaped.

Up in Washington in the Goat Rocks Wilderness is where I think the scariest place on the PCT is; it’s this huge steep slide area. When I first went across it in September of 2001, there wasn’t much snow and it was late in the day so what snow there was, was soft. It looks like the whole mountain above you is just about ready to come falling down on you. I would look up and see rocks starting to fall. After I crossed it, I thought, “This is totally unsafe, there is no way this is the PCT. Somewhere I must of taken a wrong turn.” So back across the huge slide area, back across Packwood Glacier, and back down the trail trying to find where I went wrong. After I figured out that the slide area was the PCT, I went back across it again.

The next time I crossed it, in August of 2006, I got there first thing in the morning and there were 3 solid ice shoots to cross on the big slide area. I walked across the first one fine, reminding myself of Jardine’s wisdom, ” You don’t fall until your mind falls.” But after taking a few steps, out into the second ice shoot, my legs started shaking. I thought, “This is bad.” Carefully stepping backwards a few steps, I made it off the ice shoot; I crossed the one that I had just crossed and walked back to Packwood Glacier.

There is another trail that goes up and over the top of this area. It’s about a 500-to-600 foot elevation gain but the trail is good going up. Once on top you are walking a 2 foot wide crest that is very dramatic. I thought, “This is the way to go. This is a much grander route.” But coming back down it on the other side, the trail just disappeared and was nothing but these little round marbles of rocks to slid down on. After getting back down to the PCT, I felt like I needed a drink.

The next time I crossed it, in August of 2007, I knew to wait until the sun had soften the snow and since it was the section of trail my son had joined me on it was logistically easy to have him bring the ice ax and take it back with him when we were done. There was only one snow shoot to cross last year. I carried the ice ax and made good steps for my son to follow in. You should probably always kick steps as if someone you care about is following you.

This year has been a big year for snow in Southern Washington, I may carry my ice ax through here again. I will also make sure I’m not crossing it first thing in the morning.

The Goat Rock Wilderness in Washington in August is the most beautiful place on PCT. Often you walk on the crest and the crest is just three feet wide. There are wild flowers and green mountainsides. I saw at least 60 mountain goats last year through there. It will make you happy. If you can only hike one section of the PCT, that would be the one I would recommend. Don’t go if it’s raining.

Logistics: My son and I drove his car up to White Pass Cracker Barrel where they let us park it for the week for free. Then we drove back to Portland in another car and his girlfriend drove us to the trail head by Stabler’s Store–about 35 trail miles north of Cascade Locks. Then we hiked together to White Pass.

When we got to White Pass, I said that I was done hiking and I wanted to go home to Portland with him. He said, “Fine. Why don’t you go in the store and pick us up some Cokes for the road.” I went in to get us some Cokes and he drove off. I kept hiking to Canada. Thanks, James.

My resupply strategy for my upcoming PCT(Pacific Crest Trail) hike is stellar. I won’t need anyone to mail me anything, or anyone to mail things home to, there will be only 3 post office stops to make, and everything is lined out so there will be no headaches in town. Since this beautiful system includes going to 3 stops that I have never made before and includes the sketchy Echo Lake post office, I should probably wait to post it till after it has been tested.

It’s pretty much an organized version of last years resupply plan: throw everything into one big box and keep mailing it on.

Now I have to find a big box.

In Northern California on the Pacific Crest Trail, there is a long hot exposed waterless stretch–Hat Creek Rim. In 2001, the guy at the store in Old Station knew how many hikers had come through and kept a water cache stocked with water mid-way through it. He would guarantee that there would be water for you at the cache, so even though water caches are usually of little use to me–because you can’t depend on them–and because they attract annoying needy people who do depend on them, I found that one useful.

The store owner either had moved on or wasn’t there to guarantee that there was any water in the cache last year, but there is a trail angel in Old Station. I didn’t go there because I just wanted to get my business taken care of and get back out on the trail. I met another hiker who was staying with the trail angel. He said that the trail angel asks that you not take much water from the cache.

“How much is ‘not much’?� I asked.

“I don’t knowâ€? he replied.

I decided that “not muchâ€? probably meant 1 liter, so, I brought plenty of water–well, enough to get by.

Later, I met up with that other hiker. Apparently he took as much water as he wanted from the cache and he got someone to cache him even more water further up the trail. I suspect I was duped–that he was concerned that there wouldn’t be enough water for him so he told me to not take too much. It’s one of the many things I don’t like about water caches: the sense of scarcity they breed.  About nine o’clock, I passed him camped on a nice savanna but I kept hiking because I was thirsty and wanted to make the water source before I camped.

When I finally reached the water source there wasn’t anywhere to camp, so, I hiked on. Then I came to a house; I hiked on further. Next, I came to a big power plant.

So, it’s like 11 o’clock at night and I have my 1 watt led shining all over this power plant trying to find the way. Something about power plants has always scared me. Power plants in the middle of the night and the night watch men who guard them, very scary stuff. I imagined there was a serial murdering, night watchman around or at least one of Bush’s minions aggressively protecting the power plant, but I made it through without meeting up with either.

I had to go past a lot of man made stuff. I was standing at an intersection, looking at my guidebook trying to decide which way to go when I skunk came from under a chain link fence and walked towards me. I shone my light on it, but it kept coming. Then it turned around and lifted its tail at me. I quickly chose a path and moved on.

I was still in the “No Camping� zone when I came to a small lake. I was tired. I knew from when I hiked before that the lake would have fisherman around it come morning. I made camp, though. It was forest and the forest floor is often very buggy so I put up my tent.

Five the next morning, I was still tired but I knew I needed to get out of there. I packed up, moved 100 yards up the trail, laid out my pad, got into my sleeping bag and thought, “There, I’m not camping anymore. I’m just taking a break.�

If you ever hike around White Pass in the North Cascades, you know the horses are bad there. It takes all of my powers to ignore them, but that’s not good enough for the horse people. They shout out orders for me to talk to their horses and get out of the way. They take away the sweet smells of lupine and conifers and make the world smell like horse shit and piss. I hate them.

One year, another hiker and I were walking down a narrow section of trail with a cliff on one side and a hillside on the other, when we came to two women riding horses.

The women were all dressed up in English riding clothes—the little hat, goofy pants, whip–the whole package.

We step off of the trail to let them pass, but one of the equestrians shouts out, “Trail regulations require you to move to the low side of the trail.”

I said, “I don’t go to low side of the trail because it’s a cliff and if your horse spooks it will knock me off the cliff.”

She kept repeating, “Trail regulations require you to move to the low side of the trail.”

The other hiker said, “So what are you going to do, arrest us? Look, we will climb up the side of the hill and sit down. Then you can pass.”

The equestrian said, “No, because if they even see a leaf rattle they will spook.â€?

Irritated, I said, “If your horses are that easily spooked, you have no business bringing them out on the trail.”

The other hiker and I, climbed up the side of the hill, sat down, and started talking to each other. The equestrians stood their ground and blocked the trail.

After about 10 minutes, the women dismount their horses and walk them past us. While they walked them past us one of the woman pleaded, “Please, say something!” The other hiker said something but I wouldn’t say anything to them.

On the PCT (Pacific Crest Trail), this year, somewhere around the California/Oregon border I saw a mountain lion. It was just off the trail and had its back to me. It was looking in the base of a tree, probably hunting rodent and didn’t hear me coming. Startled, the first thing I could think to say was, “Whoot! Whoot! Whoot!.” It turned around and stared at me with the most serious looking face I have ever seen. Because I had my MP3 player in my hand, I couldn’t clap so I made motions like I was clapping and said, “Clap! Clap! Clap!” and it trotted off.

An hour up the trail I met a southbound hiker, a guy named Starman who had hiked the PCT in 2001 and was now doing a section hike. I told him about the mountain lion up ahead. He said, “About an hour up the trail? No! That was where I was stalked by a mountain lion at night in 2001.” He said he couldn’t see it then, but he could feel it stalking him and he took a picture of its eyes glowing at him.

Note: I would have stolen a picture of a mountain lion to post with this, but I couldn’t find one that captured the dead serious look on that cat’s face.