We were able to convince Dave, from Hike Hut, to give us a ride up the mountain. He told us stories of when he first arrived in Etna after retiring as deputy sheriff of another town in California. "One day," he said,"I didn't know the town and that's when I decided to retire. I had known everyone but, then that day it all changed." I can't see that happening to Etna, it's to far from everything.
With a midmorning start, I cranked out 18 miles. The others who'd riden up were NoBo's. I meet NoBo's only for a moment. The miles were hard as I had two days off and 6 1/2 days of food. Why? Why so much food, I don't know.
The second day out above Scott's Mountain Pass I saw a bear. I sat down in the shade to rest. About 5 minutes later, a gorgeous shiny black coated bear wanders out of the woods near the trail marking post. It didn't see me, I didn't see its face. I watched for a moment before saying something like hey yogi. The bear scampered back to the woods. Of all my hiking this is the closest I've been, less than 50 yards hence why I didn't wait to long before saying something.
The next day, I pushed on to HWY 3 where there's a campground with a clean privy. That's motivation, a privy. When I got there, a lot of car campers where present. One campsite had hikers, after looking a the other sites, I asked if I could join. By night fall we were 5 tents. One gal smoked a bowl. Another hiker, a freshly retired cop, didn't mind. The mix of hikers I meet range from students to retirees to professionals.
From HWY 3, I strove on to Deadfall Lakes, 24 miles away. The Nobo's gave me the encouragement I needed. I didn't let them know my spirit was down. Soboing is lonely, I have no group, bubble, or others. Every face I see is going the other way or is a weekender.
I arrived at the Deadfall Lakes only to find every camp able site taken. It's Wednesday! Why aren't you folks working. These lakes are but, 2 miles from a trailhead. I finally found a sudo spot, cleared it, made camp. After this I went to fetch water, clean up a bit. Finally, I rotated back to the upper lake and ate dinner with my feet in the water, que Zack Brown Band's Toes in the Water. A bit later while I was still at water's edge, some kids came by fishing and full of 10 year old questions.
On the hike today, Thursday,I crossed a small road. Just inside the woods with a trailhead, two hikers sat, the guy noticed my AT medallion. "What year did you do the AT," he asked. "14," I replied. It was Raven, an Asian American, who wrote epic poems in the AT shelter logs that year. We'd crossed paths several times that adventure. We chatted a bit then moved our separate directions.
I write from the cusp of Castle Craig's State Park. I made 22 miles to get to a campsite that is within reach of water and about 14 miles from my next stop. Not much to report besides more views. I think I can be down by noon as it's all down hill.
While planning the next day, I smelt a campfire. I figured it could be wind drift from the State Park below. I turned a bit to see a pile of rocks smoking. Folks this is campfire 101 stuff, Put Your Campfire Cold Out. Piling rocks on it doesn't put it out. I spent the next 15 minutes rationing one of my 2 1/2 liters of water to put this out: stir, water, feel, etc. I've kept any eye on it since, so far no restart. I'll close the hole in the morning and take the trash with me. This place is a tinder keg. The forest duff is about 6 to 8 inches deep. I dug and stired this remnant below that grade.
The sun hides behind a mountain, local sunset. I haven't seen a hiker in hours. Doubtful if I'll see or hear another today. Looks like a solo camp tonight, one of two thus far, this trip.
Friday, I woke to a glow on the horizon in the saddle I called home for the night. I retrieved my food bag (Ursack, a kevlar bag) tied to a tree over night. No other hikers came here. I got underway around 6:30 am. The sun played on the otherside of the canyon for hours. I met a few other NoBo's coming up the hill. One told me of the Crossroads Hostel in Dunsmir, another of Scott's Tots at a place called Yaks. Showers and laundry, laundry sounded better than showers at the State Park, I went to the hostel.
Okay, as I've eaten the tots a bit expensive but,the flavor trumps anything I've had in weeks. I'll try to recreate these at home; dijon mustard, tater tots with mozzarella toped with crumbled bacon, all toasted to perfection. Food porn at it's truest form.
The rest of the day calls for chilling, another shower, and relaxing. Another shower as the bicycle ride into town was a workout I did not expect but, I did not want to subject others to 5 day stench.
Blogger didn't like how many photos I tried to add. Here's on selected image from this leg...
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