Day 109: Mile 1634.6 - 1655.9

Woke this morning to the smell of smoke. Not as bad as the morning we went into Sierra City, where even the mountains on the other side of the canyon were obscured. And not as bad as thunderstorms and waking to a wet tent, so I'm certainly grateful for that! But it meant that today we hiked under orange skies, the sunlight casting ochre patches between the trees. Overall, the day was pretty hot: at times, it almost reminded me of Taiwan, that feeling of being covered in sweat, not from exertion, but just from the heat alone, the perspiration dripping underneath your shirt. And also, the being ok with that because, hey, it's hot! Every now and then, though, I'd turn a corner and for a little section of trail would get a cool spot, in stark contrast, and wonder why and how to make this happen more often!

Today was the day of the Big Descent down into Seiad Valley. It's basically a 21-mile drop of about 6000 feet of elevation. Lots and lots of downhill. The first third was very nice: not too steep a grade, but steep enough--and dirt-full enough and rock-less enough--to do a bit of running here and there, just to get that exhilarating feel. (And because the pack is finally light enough with the 2 less days of food.) Plus, in some parts the woods went dark and deep and a bit spooky. Double Snacks and I seem to differ on this point: she prefers the higher elevation woods--less dense, bigger trees, wooded but still with that open and easy feel--whereas I prefer the dark and deep woods--more dense, thinner trees, and if you think about it too much it starts to become scary. But I got some of the thicker woods in this first third. I also got some "fun" tree puzzles: there are downed trees lying across the trail, and each is a little puzzle. Go over?, maybe under?, go around uphill?, or maybe downhill? Let's say you go over: how? One leg, straddle, next leg?, or one leg, *sit*, next leg? Let's say you go under: how? Lean forward and duck down, trying to do your best Chuck Berry impersonation (not easy with the pack!), or grab ahold and lean back, limbo-style? So many decisions! Regardless, I traverse tree puzzles in Kiwi Style, meaning I slow to a stop, figure out a solution, then gingerly step through that solution. Put me in a hiking motion and I can go smoothly and easily: change that motion to go through an obstacle--any obstacle--and everything grinds to a halt, then moves like molasses to get through.

The second third was less fun. Here the trail walks the side of a ravine, Grider Creek rushing loudly below. This should be amazing, and likely it was, but I spent most of my attention pushing through overgrowth and, more urgently, watching out for poison oak. Which started appearing, possibly everywhere--I'm only so good at identifying the stuff, so as I passed if I saw anything that reminded me of poison oak, I tried my best to avoid it. This part was exhausting: trying to hike and maintain a goodly pace, while simultaneously playing poison-oak-or-not with every green plant you might possibly brush up against, was a lot of work! 

At the end of the second third, we took lunch at Grider Creek Campground, at a picnic table. And as soon as I brought out my food bags, the yellowjackets swarmed all over them. Well, I say swarm, but there were probably only 10 or so. And when I went to make my lunch of ramen (for the salt), well, they got very interested the ramen as well, sometimes crawling into my Backpackers Pantry bag (the one that I use for all my cooking) and otherwise hovering around my mouth and face as I was trying to eat. Eventually, I found the only way to keep them away was to exploit the fact that they liked the heat even less than I did, and sit in the sun, far from shade. And Double Snacks commented that, again, the yellowjackets loved me, and I replied, well, I think they like my food and as for them crawling up and down my shirt, hmm, you are what you eat, so if they like my food, they likely like me too! Overall, I don't mind yellowjackets--just stay calm and usually they won't sting--but when they walking along my fingers as I'm trying to setup my stove, for example, I worry about inadvertantly crushing one and then getting stung in retaliation. I didn't mean to, but you're just in the way! Hence the move to spending lunch under the hot hot sun.

With lunch done, we commenced the third third, which was also less fun: a road walk, first along gravel roads, but eventually onto paved roads, then onto Highway 96 for the final 2 miles into Seiad Valley. I always find road walks to be draining: first on the feet where the harder surfaces just pound on the legs, second on the brain where a mile along a road--that straight gray, featureless path--always seems longer than a mile on a trail. This latter phenomenon I noticed road walking out near Murietta, so I know of it and expect it, but every time it still surprises me how interminable roads feel, even over short distances. On this road walk, though, I did find myself slowing down. A lot. Mostly because of the heat. Here's the thing: I can take heat from above--southern California hiking has made me used to that--but when the heat starts to come up from below, from the ground, then it seems I start to feel it and slow down. Over this stretch, Double Snacks was clearly faster than me, even over upward inclines where I'm traditionally ahead, and I think it was a combination of the heat-from-below and the interminable-road-walk-feel, that did it. But I will say that the scenery along the road walk was nice: here the trail walks alongside the Klamath River. Which Double Snacks pointed out is the largest river we've seen yet. Certainly it looked like an actual river, wide and broad, with actual flow and eddies and even a bifurcation at one point. And geese puttering along, against the current, a whole gaggle of them, until they saw a bald eagle up ahead (!), and they promptly turned around and flew off. Oh yes, and there was what looked like a bald eagle (it was pretty far away, on the other side of the river), hanging out in an upper tree branch. The river was lively, moving and talking, a wide thing that made the valley feel narrow, and clearly the life's blood of all in the valley.

Finally, we reach Seiad Valley and the store and RV park. Where there would be so many hikers! Where did they all come from? And why didn't we see any on the trail? It's almost disconcerting, how large the hiker crowds become when we get into town now. Partially this is due to the consolidation effect: on trail, everybody goes at their own pace and the bubble tends to spread out. But it all consolidates at things like water source, campsites, or--most prominently--town. And partially this is due to the fire closure pushing people together: suddenly everybody is starting from the same point again. Anyway, since we usually we don't see many folks on trail, walking up to the Seiad Valley store and seeing so many hikers milling around was admittedly a bit strange!

But the store was good: we would go in to buy ice creams and drinks (I bought a pint of Double Strawberry--which I shared with Double Snacks--and a V8 because, vegetables). The proprietor was a nice guy, with a wry sense of humor that kept him from becoming ornery. Kept asking everyone, have you signed the trail register?, usually asking the same person multiple times and knowing so but not caring. I did sign, as did Double Snacks, and she asked, gosh, how many people have signed today? 58, he rattled off. And then, when we looked at him in incredulity, I just counted.

For camping, we went next door to the RV park, where we talked to Bruce, another really nice proprietor who's happy to take in hikers. At this point, Double Snacks and Wetfoot and me formed a consortium of sorts, managing most of the chores together. Because the RV park offers laundry (two bucks in all: Double Snacks and Wetfoot and me all shared a load), and it offers showers (with *hot* water, as in you can turn it to scalding if you want, and no timer) (this is in contrast to Etna, where the showers were warm if you thought warm thoughts while standing still with the water running down the nape of your neck, and was on a timer), and the camping is on the grass out front, in the shade of these big trees. There's even a little covered area with a fridge (dirty but roughly functional) and a powerstrip for charging, and for warming up food, you can use the microwave in the office, which stays open for a while. And so we got our laundry done--which we wanted to do because, poison oak!--and we got our showers done--which we wanted to do because, poison oak!--and we got our resupply done (with the usual sharing of supplies that comes with it), and got our dinners from the store. And since we were there pretty early--there was nobody there yet but another hiker couple--and we set up our tents all next to each other in a row. And by sundown, when more and more hikers came in, there were two rows of tents and cowboy campers crowding that entire space, and I commented to Double Snacks how interesting it was that people just conform and continue patterns.

And the little flakes of ash that lightly dusted our tents, eh, well, I mostly ignored those.

There was some consternation in the evening owing to Guthooks--see below--but overall, I'd say the day was pretty good. In the first third, I was singing again--granted, just the songs I had memorized back in day, so no new material--and even managed to get Peaches en Regalia stuck in my head for a while. Maybe I was just happy to have not gotten rained on last night! But Seiad Valley is a nice little spot, pretty hiker friendly, a brief spot of civilization that doesn't go full civilized and still feels like you're surrounded by wilderness. A good stop!

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Some notes:

-- Campsite > Cold Spring Trailhead > Grider Creek Bridge > Grider Creek Campground > Grider Road > Highway 96 > Seiad Valley

-- In the morning, the deer at the campsite were bold! As in, wandering right to the edge of the campsite and showing no fear of the people, bold. And this would continue throughout the day: the deer around here are 1) plentiful (in that I've seen a bunch, and usually I don't see any), and 2) not afraid of people. They just stare at you as you come by, and if you get too close they'll bound off--they like their personal space--but you can get pretty close before that happens. You'd think it make for some great deer photos, but I've also learned that wild animal photography is hard and I'm clearly not that good at it: finding the right moment is difficult, and usually I find it about 10 seconds before I'm ready with the camera, and by the time I get the thing on and the shot framed properly, it's long since passed!

-- Incidentally, Peaches en Regalia is an instrumental piece by Frank Zappa. A long time ago, Dan (Chikami) had asked me if I knew of a piece of music that was pure joy. And I said Peaches en Regalia because, for me, that's what that song is: an expression of pure joy. (Incidentally, Dan also asked me for a song of pure sadness, to which I put for Levees, of A Tale of God's Will by Terence Blanchard. The first time I heard this piece I was at the office, putting it on in the background in my headphones, and I had to stop the track because I tearing up at my desk!)

-- Oh, on the road walk, the wild blackberries started appearing. Double Snacks noted them at first, started picking them and eating them. I followed, although not as vigorously: she would get handfuls of them, her fingers staining purple, whereas I would pick one here or there. I did get a bit better at finding sweet, versus tart, ones, though, as I went!

-- Later in the day, Almost Famous and Moonbeam arrived and set up their tent in a row next to mine. And evidently they had been racing each other to see who would get to Seiad Valley first (I didn't inquire who'd won), but Moonbeam mentioned that for some parts, Almost Famous had run down the trail. And so I asked him about that, because I had done that too, mostly along the first third (before the poison oak) when the slope got steep enough. And he said, well, it wasn't so much of a run as a shuffle, which is what I do too--a full run is hard to do with a pack on, so it's more like a shuffle where it's almost like your knees stay stationary and the calves and lower leg are doing the pendulum thing down below. But it's good to hear that I'm not the only doing it!

-- Oh, Moonbeam and Almost Famous also still had their rodeo bracelets on: they had left Etna the same day we had, but whereas we had left in the morning, they had stayed for the rodeo and left later in the day. And Moonbeam said the rodeo had some weird events, like one she described where you had to milk a wild cow, and it was a team of two people and you had to rope the cow, then the other person had to milk it and I don't remember how much they had to get, a bottle's worth or somesuch. But evidently the rodeo had a lot of these kinds of "local" events. But, to my ears at least, it sounded like a lot of fun! I'll have to remember it if I'm ever in these mountains in the summer in future: check the calendar and if it lines up, drop by for the local Etna rodeo!

-- Incidentally, Guthooks basically stopped working on my phone: I tried to open the app and it just gets stuck thinking and thinking and thinking. I'm not sure what went wrong. So I did the only thing I could think of: I uninstalled the app and reinstalled it. Only it turns out the WiFi here is slow (I don't get cellular service), so it's taking forever to download the routes for Northern California and also Oregon. So here I am, approaching midnight, in the laundry room of the RV park, waiting on downloads. At least they're happening now: until about 10:30pm, the downloads would start but then just time out--this happened maybe 4-5 times. Tomorrow's a big climb out of Seiad Valley, and it's going to be hot too--103 degrees is the forecast--so I wanted to get an early start. But that seems less likely: at the rate these downloads are progressing, I'm probably not going to get into bed until past midnight. Which means tomorrow is just going to be a hot, tough, exhausting day. Almost makes me want to go it *without* Guthooks--go the "old fashioned" way--out of sheer frustration, but no, waiting on the downloads is likely the wiser course.

-- In the evening I met up with Yeti again as I was hanging out by the laundry machines (the WiFi signal was stronger there). He's a friendly guy, easy to talk to, plain and comfortable conversational style with almost no awkward pauses. I think I should know you, he said, you look familiar. Yeah, you passed me on your 40-mile day, I said. Oh yeah, I remember, he said. I asked if he had made it 40 miles that day. Turns out, he "only" made 36: he had bumped into a friend he had been hiking with, and she had stopped to camp at his mile 36, so he decided to stop there and camp with her. They have very different styles--she's more steady, he's more do 40 and then take a couple zeros in town--so this would be the last time they would end up camping together: after town, they would go their separate paces. So camping together was a bit of a last hurrah. Still, though, a 36-mile day: I think the highest I've done out here is 23, so that's more than 50% more than I've managed in a day!