Ally Abroad

After three months, the dry hot desert, the cold and snowy Sierras, and the overgrown, poison oak of Northern California, 1700 miles and incredible friends and angels, we crossed out of California and into Oregon today.

Here we are flipping off California. Unfortunately Oregon hasn’t been much better. The second we crossed the border it began to rain!

Today we hiked into Seiad Valley, Jefferson State. It’s a tiny town, just a post office, a store and a cafe, which puts on the world famous pancake challenge. If you eat five one pound pancakes in under two hours you can have them, and an incredible stomach ache, for free. Fewer than a dozen people have succeeded. Pictured here is Danger Snake, who got two and a half pancakes down and then had to spend a zero day recovering.

Mystic, who held the Appalachian Trail record, for eating a half gallon of ice cream in two minutes and thirty-seven seconds, made a poor showing. Despite squishing all the air out of them, tearing them down to size and soaking them in water, he only got one down.

This morning we faced a five mile road walk to reach a bridge across the Klamath River. Rather than walking the roads, ABear and I decided to blue blaze across the river. Blue blazing is when you take shortcuts or walk off trail. (Yellow blazing is when you hitchhike and pink blazing is when a guy follows a girl up the trail.)

We met some awesome trail angels, Lee and LeAnn, who agreed to slackpack our stuff into town. Then we scrambled down an embankment overgrown with blackberries and brambles to the river’s edge. I went first, wading in up to my chest, then swimming across the river. It was super swift, so I was swimming upstream while the current swept me downstream. That was, until I looked down and realized that the water was knee deep and stood up. We waded the rest of the way to the other side. When we got out, we were on a private dirt road in a pasture, inside an electric fence. When we finally found our way out, we were just outside of Seiad Valley, where we stopped for the world famous pancake challenge.

So far we’ve been really lucky, and there haven’t been any fires. There are a number of fires in Southern Oregon, so some of my firefighter friends sent me instructions on how to start a backburn and a shake and bake shelter, but the fires seem to be further east.

Last night there was a lightning storm, which started a bunch of small fires in the area. Most of the fires are in the valleys below the trail, but there was smoke everywhere and in one section there were tiny fires burning on either side of the trail. It was all very post-apocalyptic looking.

Still, we weren’t asked to evacuate. A hand crew hiked in and helicopters flew in huge bladders of water, like the one ABear is sitting on here. It’s also been raining and hailing off and on, soit all seems to be under control. 

This section we’ve stumbled on all sorts of strange, amazing people. Today ABear and I met Pixie, Ray, their baby Dipper and their herd of eighteen goats. As an exercise in sustainable living they’re trying to spend the entire season outside, drinking goat milk and foraging as much as possible. They live super simply, with just the clothes on their backs. Baby Dipper doesn’t even wear diapers, they just held him out at arms length and encouraged him to go occasionally.

I was so impressed with their commitment to their ideals, raising their child in the wilderness. We spent the entire evening with them, learning about each others’ lifestyles and sharing information and food, drinking delicious milk.

Going clockwise, this is Train Wreck, Vulture Death, Magik, Money Shot, Blackfoot, Doug, Danger Snake, Time Cop and ABear.

I wasn’t planning on stopping in Etna, but it has been so miserably hot we went in and ended up staying way too long. There an old fashioned soda shop with a great porch, a community pool, the California Campus Training Group, who let us crash on their floor, a thrift store, a brew pub, a dive bar and tons of hikers happy to be out of the heat.

Today I crossed paths with Bronze, an amazing southbound mule packer. He’s trying to do as much of the trail as possible in 19th century style. He’s wearing breeches and moccasins, sleeping on sheepskin and canvas, cooking over a fire, drinking out of a wineskin and eating pemmican.

It was great to get his perspective on how mule packing differs from hiking. Because the mule needs to pasture for six hours a day he can only do fifteen to twenty miles a day and he has a lot of downtime. Still, he faces many of the same issues as thru-hikers. Just like us, he’s shooting from the hip, having never mule packed before, and he has had to adjust his expectations a lot, changing his route and going more modern.

He’s pictured here with mule Bootsie. You can read more about his amazing expedition at his excellent blog, www.manandmule.com.

This weekend my most bestest bear friend Shawn Murphy came down to climb Mt. Shasta with me. It was awesome to see him and catch up. (Kudos to him for his recent climbs and being mentioned in the Boing Boing blog!) And he bought all sorts of cool surprises. A thermos full of pho, my beloved plush penguin and tons of new music!

We took two days to climb the Avalanche Gulch route. We did the approach the first day, got a late alpine start and summited by 12pm. It was an easy, non-technical climb, especially for someone in thru-hiker shape and Shawn, who’s been climbing like crazy lately. Despite starting four hours after the first party we were the first people on top. On the way down we spent a while talking with the climbing ranger, giving him the summit report.

It made me want to do more peak bagging and big mountain climbing, maybe even some seige-style mountaineering. And it made me miss Shawn and everyone else at home. I’ll be in Oregon and seeing y’all soon!

The past 500 miles I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to do when I’m done, when I get back and have to behave like a grownup.

So far all I have figured out is that I need plenty of opportunities to play outside, I like helping people and I need to be part of a community, either at home or abroad.

Growing up my family was very focused on college and a career. I only recently realized that there were other options, that some of the most interesting and intelligent people I know don’t have college degrees or even high school diplomas, that some of the happiest people I know are unemployed. We often refer to ourselves as hiker trash out here, because it can be an entire lifestyle.

And the PCT is just the tip of the iceberg. There’s so much more adventuring I want to do. Hiking the Continental Divide Trail and the Appalachian Trail. Kayaking around the Baja Peninsula. Biking from Seattle to Portland, Maine. Exploring Denali, Yosemite and the Soutwestern Utah parks for a season each. Being a climbing bum. Seeing Africa and India. Willing to work organic farming in New Zealand.

Then there’s that all that other stuff. A career that makes a difference in the world. A career that could support family, if I chose to go that route. At least a career to pay for all of those adventures.  Which brings me to the big question. What am I going to do with my life? My dream job is some sort of socially conscious journalism. Or working for an NGO, government or other international agency. Practical professions, which would interest me, afford free time and income, and allow me to springboard into said dream jobs might include nursing and teaching. Any other ideas?

My Peace Corps placement has finally been pinned down. I believe I’ll be teaching English in Southeast Asia, starting sometime next fall. At first I wasn’t excited, but I’m starting to get psyched about it. A number of people on the trail have served and they all have great things to say about it. It’s an opportunity to make a difference, travel on the government’s dime and a gateway to high paying and interesting jobs abroad. So I suppose I have it figured out for the short term. But after that? Seriously, I’m open to suggestions.

Today we started the dreaded section O. So far it’s living up to its reputation; a thirty mile, shadeless dry stretch, clawing through shoulder high manzanita and stickerbushes covering the trail, poison oak everywhere and a heat wave, with temperatures topping a hundred degrees.

Most people believe that the desert is the worst part of the trail and many  people drop out there. I think that Northern California can be just as tough, as dull, hot and dry, and a lot of people have gotten of trail lately. Lots of homesick kids are calling it quits. Luckily, I’m still all refreshed and rejuvenated from the Hideaway with the Heitmans and hiking with awesome people. No way I’m getting off trail.  

In case you didn’t know, this is what poison oak looks like. It’s itchy. I tell you this because some of us didn’t know, and took a late night leak in a bunch of it. Seriously. It sucks.

The past few days we’ve been hanging out at Hiker Hideaway, in Old Station, with trail angels Firefly and Firewalker. It’s the last stop on our unintentional town tour before we start the dreaded Hat Creek Rim and Section O. And it has been amazing.

Imagine an acreage with neat flower beds and big shade trees, a two story treehouse, hammocks and a tire swing, sprinklers, a creek and a hot tub, rubber duckies and lawn flamingos. Presiding over it all is Firefly, who’s like your Grandma but so much hipper, having lived in the Haight, who cooks and mends and heals all wounds.  

Throw in some of your favorite people (including Avo, who hitched back from Mt. Shasta to hang out with us) and some beer and ice cream and you’ve got the essence of summer. If only it could go on forever. Sadly, we had to hike out this morning, to start making big miles again. Fortunately, there’s more friends and fun ahead. Oregon, here we come!

Our nonstop town tour continued today, as we hiked the short 17 miles between Chester and Drakesbad Guest Ranch. Drakesbad is an exclusive guest ranch, but the owners, Billie and Ed, are trail angels who take amazing care of hikers. When we arrived we were invited to shower and swim in the hotsprings before sitting down to dinner.

The dinner tables were set with real silverwear and china, freshly pressed linens, even little reserved for PCT hikers placards. It felt so civilized and luxurious. Dinner itself was amazing, fresh baked bread an spinich and strawberry salad, roast lamb and poached salmon, rice and potatoes, even carrot cake afterwards. They fed us so much we couldn’t finish it all, an amazing feat with thru-hikers, but they charged us the children’s rate. 

Christmas really came when Ed, the owner, a jolly old German man, came out with a pile of packages of me. A resupply box, new Ice Breakers long underwear from Backcountry and a pile of care packages. It was awesome. I felt so spoiled Thank you so much everyone!Pictured here are 12%, me, Birdman, Kickstep, Lunchable, I-Spy, Booty and A-Bear, absolutely feasting. And I think I look like a friendly Fidel Castro in my new hat. Whatcha think?

This afternoon we hit the halfway mark. Some 1330 something miles we’ve hiked so far. Birdman, Ice Axe, 12%, A-Bear and I decided to hitch into Chester to celebrate the occasion. There way serious halfway mark magic. Waiting for A-Bear and I at the highway was our friend Nate and his dog Hank, of Sierra City/Cinnamoose fame.

We had an awesome time in town tearing up the bowling alley. The floor was overwaxed, and we’re all unbalanced without trekking poles and packs, so there was tons of slipping and sliding down the lane. A-Bear absolutely dominated ping pong, pegging 12% over and over again. After a few pitchers there was plenty of dancing, and singing along to Jon Bon Jovi on the jukebox. Still, the best was seeing Nate again. He swore to trail stalk us, to come up and play putt putt in Ashland with us.

Today we hiked into Belden, to stay with the Brattens’. Hanging out in the shade on their porch, A-Bear let me shake down his pack. A pack shakedown is when you go through someone else’s pack, estimating how much each item weights, seeing if they really need it, or if something lighter could be substituted.

Most of us on the PCT are gram weenies. We try to shave every appreciable ounce off weight out of our packs, since it makes every step more work. People with big packs don’t usually get very far from the border. So we weigh everything. We rip apart guidebooks, cut tags out of clothing, anything to save ounces. We realize that most necessities are actually luxuries. Some crazy people can get their baseweights down to six to eight pounds. Ten to twenty is more typical. Personally, my pack weighs around 16 pounds. A-Bears weighed around 30.

Since lots of other people have been posting gear lists of late, I thought I’d list what I lug around with me as well. The weights are all approximate, based on what I remember from when I weighted each item at home.

Storage
Osprey Atmos 50L Pack and Liner – 50 oz.
Various Silnylon Stuffsacks – 4 oz.
2L Platypus Bladder and Tube –4 oz.
HEET Fuel Bottle – 2 oz.

Sleep System
Henry Shires Sublite Sil Tarptent – 22 oz.
Tyvek Groundsheet – 5 oz.
Nunatak 20° Down Quilt – 18 oz.
Thermarest Prolite Pad  – 18 oz.

Clothing
OR Gore-Tex Jacket – 15 oz.
OR Down Jacket – 12 oz.
IceBreaker Wool Top – 8 oz.
IceBreaker Wool Bottoms – 8 oz.
2 Pair Extra Smartwool Socks -4 oz.
2 Pair Extra Underwear – 2 oz.
Synthetic  Hat – 2 oz.
Synthetic  Gloves – 2 oz.
Neck Gaiter – 2oz.

Cook Kit
Aluminum Pot and Cozy – 5 oz.
Tupperware Cup – 1 oz.
Beer Can Stove and Windscreen – 3 oz.
Mini Lighter – 1 oz.

Electronics
Canon Rebel DSLR, Charger and Cable – 32 oz.
Cellphone and Charger – 8 oz.
Zune MP3 Player, Charger and Cable – 10 oz.
Minty Boost Battery Powered USB Charger – 6 oz.

Miscellaneous
Petzl Tikka Headlamp – 3 oz.
Digital Watch – 1 oz.
Compass with Sighting Mirror – 3 oz.
Maps, Databook, Permits, Etc. – 4 oz.
Field Guides, Book, Journal, Etc.- 16 oz.
Ziploc Bag Wallet – 1 oz.

First Aid Kit – 6 oz.
Vitamin I (Ibuprofen)
Duct Tape
Sterile Gauze
Antiseptic
Sunscreen
Chapstick
Tecnu

Gear Repair Kit – 4 oz.
Leatherman Knife and Multitool
Duct Tape
Safety Pins
Sewing Needle and Thread
Glue and Patches
Parachute Cord

Toiletries – 6 oz.
Toothbrush and Toothpaste
Hairbrush and Rubber Bands
Contact Solution and Case
¼ Bar Dr. Bronners Soap
Hand Sanitizer

Pictured here is 12%. He’s a little pissed because someone put a one pound padlock on his pack and wouldn’t give him the combination, forcing him to carry it around with him. Who would do such a depraved thing you ask? That would have been me.

Hiking out of the middle fork of the Feather River this afternoon I saw a sign advertising an unexpected new trail angel. I wasn’t planning on stopping in, but the woman’s name was Nancy Williams and we have a good family friend named with the same name, so I felt like it was fate. Plus, it was friggin’ hot out and ice cream sounded amazing.

We had lunch with Nancy, her nephew and his family, including two adorable kids, Kirsten and Gregory. It was great to spend some time playing with kids, since we don’t get many chances out on the trail, and I love little ones.  It made me miss all the kids in my life, from Jordan to Josie.

We weren’t planning on staying, but after lunch they offered to slackpack us the next five miles and back for dinner and we couldn’t resist such a sweet offer.  While we left our packs, Kirsten and her dad Dennis decided to come along with us. So we switched off carrying Kirsten, the silliest, heaviest slackpack in history. Here we are, pretending to hitch back before an amazing pasta dinner, smores and sleeping on the porch under the stars.

Recently, I’ve found that I’m unable to introduce myself as Ally. I intuitively introduce myself by my trailname. Out here, each of us goes by a nickname. It’s easier than remembering real names, and it adds to the camaraderie and summer camp feel.

Some trailnames come from your real life vocation (i.e. Sailor, and Coach). Others come from something you carry (i.e. Avo, who packs an avocado out of every town, Ice Axe, who carried an ice axe in the desert and Vagisil, a guy who carried vagisil for chafe). Some are adjectives that describe people (i.e. 65+5, who is 70 years old, Reddy, who sunburns easily and Wild Child, who’s just a good time girl).

By far the best trailnames come when you do something stupid. Miss. Information earned her name providing erroneous information. Sir. Bumbling Idiot Best Friend the Third got his name for getting lost, being British and being one of three. Banshee earned her name because she once declared that Clif Bars made her shit like a Banshee. 12% got his trailname because he took a quiz that said he only had 12% of the skills needed to hike the trail. My all time favorite trailname is Potential 385. He hiked last yea, a scruffy Canadian citizen who was detained at border as a Potential 385, a possible burden on American society.

My trailname is Bonanza Jellybean, after a character in Tom Robbins’ Even Cowgirls Get the Blues. I got the name guiding, because I wore a cowgirl hat and hitchhiked with glee, and am all rosy cheeks and dimples. Usually people just call me Jellybean, but it’s unforgettable when my friends affectionately refer to me as BJ.