8/4/20; Mile: 1,540; Elevation: 6,860 ft.
It was quite an impressive sunset last night, to be joined by an equally impressive sunrise this morning. A good night’s rest at a campsite with impressive views and pleasant weather goes a long ways to revitalizing the heart and mind. My body? Well I’ll guess we’ll see. But I guess hope is better than despair. I don’t really have a location to stop today in mind, I only have to be at the Highway 3/Scott Summit trailhead tomorrow afternoon, which is “only” 40 miles away. Time to walk a little more.
Due to my extra day in Mt. Shasta, I’m going to miss a rendezvous with Mark and Mia today. Not to worry though, there are plenty of hikers in the area to inhale any-and-all snacks and beverages they provide. Yes, they’re driving all the way from Sacramento (a 4-hour drive one-way) to provide more trail magic for us. THAT is trail angel-ing!
A good portion of the next 40 miles is ridge walking. Lots of views and very dry. Water sources are spread out here, many require walking off-trail to get to a pond or lake. Me? I don’t want to do that. So I pace myself to prevent over-exertion, and only have dry food (and no coffee). After 7-ish miles, I get to the Gumboot trail crossing and find the remnants of Mark and Mia’s trail magic. But nothing left for me. I rest in the shade with my leg elevated and lightly nap, quietly hoping for some impromptu trail magic from the day-hikers roaming to-and-from their cars at the nearby parking area. No luck for me…again. But there IS water only 3-miles ahead, so off I go. I grab a liter, drink it, and then another. Yes, I’m dry.
But it’s too early to stop for a break, and there’s another on-trail spring up ahead. It isn’t much, but it’s water, it’s the right time of day for a break, and there’s a little shade and some sitting logs. What more could I ask for? I finally take time to make a hot meal, use as much water as I want, and just rest. I’m still blah, certainly dehydrated, and just need to rest. Which is so hard for me to do in the middle of the day. I’ve never been a napper, never able to sit still until my body just says “Enough!”. I’m not there yet. But I force myself to sit still. That is until some southbound section hikers turn up. Then I’m up-and-Adam and chatting away. So much for rest.
This section of trail is feast-or-famine for water for me this year. There’s more water only 5 miles ahead, and plenty at that. And lakes. Maybe I’ll go swimming and chill some more. But when I approach Deadfall Lakes, I can hear weekenders and such, and don’t feel like being around them. Laughter, yells, and just chatter all waft up to me on the trail above the lakes as I descend. Socialization is not the medicine I need right now after the last town stop. So, I keep on going and catch water for tonight and tomorrow morning at the creek crossing just after the lakes.
I’m finally on the last stretch to my camp for the night, Parks Creek Trailhead. Why? There’s a vault toilet and a parking lot. No carrying soiled TP tomorrow and maybe some trail magic. Well, no trail magic today, but there was a vault toilet. Thru-hikers can’t be choosers. I march up hill to the east of the road and pick a spot out of view of everyone…except the drone someone soon flies overhead. I pretend my hiking pole is a gun and aim at it, the drone pause, spins to look at me, then takes off again. Ah the simplicity of my amusement these days is shockingly childish. So what!? Tomorrow I get to see and be resupplied by my friend Eric who lives in Weaverville. No town stop (and suck) for me.
Savior out.