Day 6 – Butcherknife Creek

Sleeping would seem like such a low-drama endeavor. I keep learning that this is not true. The problem last night was the wind. My quilt is like a down comforter with only the end at my feet enclosed like a sleeping bag. So my feet are the only part of my body that anchors the quilt to the ground. Last night the wind was fairly strong and blowing from my head toward my feet. It keep blowing under the quilt, filling it up like a sail. I had to grip the edge of the quilt to keep it from blowing away. Twice during the night, it DID blow off me. With overnight temps reach 45 degrees F, it was pretty miserable.

I gotta be more careful about how and where I set up my bed. I also need to use the straps that attach the quilt to my sleeping pad! Why this did not occur to me in the night, is still a mystery. I guess, until you really need some help, all those product “features” are simply theoretical.

Here we go again

I get out of camp by 6:30. My knee feels good. I decide to not take ibuprofen unless it starts hurting. Up I climb into the cool morning. The flowers cheer me on.

Hulloo! I meet another hiker on the trail. Although she is not aggressive, she dominates the space around her. Her face and body have a muscled blockiness to them. She looks strong. She is wearing an olive hiking shirt with lots of pockets. Her clothes and her pack look freshly pressed. She must be in charge of something. Maybe the mountain! She tells me I will run into snow. I do not doubt her. Her partner (assistant?) shows up and they move on together. Snow, huh? Exciting.

The trail is fascinating today. It is starting to feel mountainous. I run up on my first talus! Crossing these talus slopes can be tricky. The key is to keep moving forward and not fall down, or down the slope you will slide. To this flat-lander, talus fields are super exciting.

I come to Moosehead Spring. It is the perfect hiker water source: clean flowing water, next to the trail, easily accessible.

The scenery is amazing. I can’t take my eyes off Shasta. In my final view of her today she is wearing a fleecy crown.

It seems that bees like my gaiters, too.

I am snacking merrily through the morning. I am happy. I come upon the snow. I conquer it. OK, it is about a foot high and three feet across. But the slippery slushiness of it thrills me.

Things get weird

Later in the day the trail emerges onto an exposed section of the mountain. My eyes are drawn to a striking knob above me. It looks like the trail goes right past it. Cool. As I climb the wind blows harder. I have to hold my hat to keep from losing it. Eventually the trail descends into a dark forest. It is distinctly creepy. Hansel? Grettel? Is that you ahead?

No, this is not the PCT. There is no obvious footpath. It looks like the Mirkwood Forest and this hobbit is suddenly uneasy. I pull out my phone and check the GPS. I am no where near the trail! I walk back almost a mile to the real PCT. I had turned off the trail at the place where I saw the knob. Like a siren, it had called me off the trail. This was the work of an evil sorcerer, no doubt. I had almost been drawn to my doom.

As I near my campsite, I feel great. I am hiking strong, my knee has not hurt all day and I am eating M&Ms! I am in my zone. Maybe too much. I fly right by the sign pointing to my camp for the night. When I realize it, the camp is a mile behind me, I choose to not go back. I have options ahead, but I had not wanted to push it today because of my knee. I pick out a spring 1.5 miles ahead. Still, these lapses in attention are frustrating.

No safe harbor

The new camp site is perfect. Quickly I set up my bed and make dinner: cold mashed potatoes with olive oil and summer sausage. I sit down to write. Looking up, I realize I have made a big mistake. Rising above me are two big dead trees. Hikers call these kinds of trees “widow makers” because they can fall on campers killing them in their sleep. Both tent spots here are under the widow makers. I have to move on. I will not be Florida Man today!

Daylight is fading fast. I pack up everything and hike fast to the next water spot. The camp sites are terrible here. Guthook says a couple good spots are 1.4 miles ahead. I practically start running. My knee is starting to throb but I have no more options. Night falls. I put on my headlamp. I am singing every song I can think of as the darkness closes on me. I run toward camp like a Black Friday shopper running toward the limited items section. I make it! I throw down my pack and thank God almighty and all the forest gods too. I set up for the night.

Desperation

As I lay here entering the events of the day into my blog, I hear footsteps near my head. It is dark, and I am wearing my headlamp. I shine the light towards the footsteps and a large animal goes crashing away. Goose bumps crawl over every inch of my body. A couple minutes later it comes back. I shine my light again. Green glowing eyes. Could be a deer. I yell at it. It moves a sideways a little. I throw a stick at it and it scampers off. But it does not leave. I can hear it walking around beyond my light. Looks like another interesting night ahead.

I hear something beside me. I shine my light there. It’s some king of rat crawling toward my hiking shirt which is drying on a branch beside me. I wave at it and it runs off – but comes right back. I throw a stick at it. It runs off again, but comes right back, crouching at the end of my sleeping bag. I wave and shout. It runs off. It comes back again, but this time it goes for my pack. I stand up and grab a stick. It backs off a couple feet. I throw the stick and miss, but the rat runs up a tree.

I am unnerved. It wouldn’t be so bad except I am laying on the ground with only a quilt covering me – no tent. I have nowhere to hide. I put my earplugs in, hoping the animals will stay gone, but I doubt it. And what will happen after I go to sleep. I am pretty sure they are not after me. They want my food and, in the case of the deer, the sweat salt on my gear. (Deer crave salt.) My fears are realized: the animals keep coming back. I fight them off until midnight. Then I give up. There is no where to go and I must sleep. I hope for the best…and pray for morning to come quickly.

• June 7
• Starting mile: 1439
• Ending mile: 1463
• Daily miles: 24! (What desperation will do)
• Total miles: 91
• Notable animals: snake with black and gold spots, a black chicken-like bird that scurried down the trail before flapping off (like a chicken), lizards galore, intrusive deer, relentless, hell-sent rat