Pacific Crest Trail: Week One was a Thriller

The Pacific Crest Trail is a thru hiking adventure, that stretches 2,600 miles between Mexico and Canada. While my partner has been hiking since March 18 when I dropped him off on the border of Mexico, my adventure started the first week of May, with my good girl Chloe Rue at my side. We had to skip north of the Sierra Nevada Mountains this year, and plan to end with them. Instead, we started where our pets can officially join us: Old Station, California. Follow along for stories, dog tails and things I am learning on the way- about my dog, my partner and life in general.

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Imagine…

Unfortunately, the last 4 days of my first 127 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail ended with my phone being dead (along with my power bank, watch, garmin, propane and my soul but we’ll come back to that). So I took a mental picture of this scene I would like to describe to you.

Imagine a narrow, winding trail along the side of a mountain. Tall, angular elm trees provide dappled sunlight all around you. A deep, deep gorge lays to your left, where a river rushes far below, yet sends a cool breeze up hill that brushes your cheeks gently. Imagine a scene before you, so breath taking it makes you want to cry. Bright blue periwinkle flowers carpet the ground on both sides of the trail, and a low hanging tree, laden with dark purple flowers blossoms in an arch, creating a frame for the main attraction. The scene’s centerpiece is a waterfall stream, that Cascades down the side of the mountain, over the trail. The waterfall pools at the bottom, silver rocks glittering in the dappled sunlight, striking against the clear blue water. It is the most welcoming sight, as both a place to refuel, and to calm sore feet on a long day.

Can you see that picture, as if an elvish forest surrounded you? Now I want to tell you everything it took to find this scene. We should have turned around. We never should have enjoyed that picturesque moment. We made a poor choice, and it could have cost us our lives. No matter how beautiful a missed photographic moment is; our lives are worth more. Times infinity. This is my disclaimer to you all. If it seems too late to turn back when you’re in over your head, it is NOT. Always make the safe choice for yourself and your dog. A picture is not worth your lives.

The Hat Creek Rim

My journey north on the PCT began on an absolutely PERFECT day in Old Station, California. I was dancing on my feet, dying to start the walk while Seth slept in, after traveling through the night to arrive to Old Station from Kennedy Meadows. I spent some time talking to the person at the small post office, who was an absolute gem. She keeps a PCT sign in book, that dated way back to the 90’s! It was so fun to read entries, and to see how many international explorers there are hiking the trail these days.

We began our hike by making our way through an old burn zone that I felt looked like hell itself. Dappled clouds cooled down the day, and a cave exploration made it even more unique. We began our ascent up to the Hat Creek Rim, which is a very dry section of trail. With perfect weather and fresh feet, we made awesome time, and were able to enjoy a break in the sunshine at a beautiful parking area with our first view of Mt. Shasta.

This area of trail was in amazing condition. The views were unparalleled, and the trail angels were active, making sure us thru hikers had all our needs met.

My favorite trail angel this year, is a man named the Tin Man. Seth and I were enjoying a lunch break in our hammock, with the dogs resting in the shade below a few trees. A man in a green truck drove his way up the very unused looking forest road, and popped right out ready for conversation. He had recently provided transport for a few hikers from Australia to come up to Old Station from Kennedy Meadows and just hoped to help hikers in the area with anything we needed. Snacks, fresh water, and conversation were OH so welcome. See the Tin Man has thru hiked the PCT, and spends his days of retirement section hiking, and doing angel work. He had the funniest stories, and lives out of the back of his truck (sounds familiar to my life huh?). He was SO excited to show is his truck build too! At 84 years of age, the Tin Man is still backpacking sections, bringing water to hikers and driving us around, sharing plenty of stories on the way. Cheers to you Tin Man! To all the trail angels we have met so far, it has been such a treat.

We backpacked our first few days along the Rim, with sunrise views being my favorite with Chloe Rue. We LOVED our mornings, when it was cool and the sun was so gentle. Chloe has been doing really well, but likes the sun less and needs frequent water stops in the afternoon. Thankfully she does drink right out of the water bladder these days which makes it just a quick stop for water.

Burney Falls

After coming down off the Hat Creek Rim, we had some lava flows, that lead to a rather creepy looking forested area. I like to call them “druid” forests as I have been enjoying the Hobbit audio book on this journey and I believe Tolkien would agree that the fae live in those woods. Skinny, dead looking deciduous trees coated the area, with very tall ponderosa pine scattered through as well. Sandy ground pays tribute to dry earth we encountered up until the day Chloe and I backpacked 12 miles in a single morning to make it to a swimming hole.

I was beginning to SMELL absolutely horrible and was aching for a shower after 4 days on the trail. Water seemed too precious in such a dry area to use on myself, so when I saw a lake lay ahead, Chloe and I were STOKED. We arrived to a lunch at a beautiful creek that fell into Baum Lake under a bridge. There was a tree providing shade, and the perfect place to crawl in to the water, wash up and cool down. It was one of our favorite lunch spots, and when Seth and Freyja arrived later in the day, we simply waited out the heat all together, savoring the beautiful lake.

We arrived to Burney Falls on Mother’s Day weekend. It was SO busy, but many folks were curious and stopped to talk with us about our journey. The General Store held our first resupply box and also brought hotdogs and corn dogs out before they closed! We charged all our devices, and the dogs enjoyed watching people, children, dogs; of all walks of life, savoring the outdoor beauty that is Burney Falls State Park.

Snow Sucks

Now is the part of the tale that I wish I didn’t have to tell. I love being positive and sharing the happy moments and awesome people we meet on adventures. But, the thing about the Pacific Crest Trail is that it is HARD. It will test you mentally, physically, but more than anything it will push you to your limits. In order to be safe, we MUST know our limits. That’s where we failed in this section. However, we survived. We made it to Mt. Shasta. We just dodged some serious injuries on the way. So again, a disclaimer- if you are on an adventure, and you get in over your head, find the safest way OUT. Going through is not the only option.

We knew there would be snow after Burney Falls, and that the snow would become intense quickly. We had heard a couple hikers got off the trail due to the sketchy mountain passes and were to safety, but we wanted to do as much as we could, and I personally love (loved?) snow. Chloe and I spend a lot of time skijoring, snowboarding, snow shoeing and just post holing our way around snow. So when we made some serious miles the day after Burney, then encountered a mountain thunder storm, and still hadn’t encountered snow, I was foolish enough to wonder when it would happen.

We had heard thunder around 4pm after taking a longer lunch. There was an abandoned radio tower 5 miles ahead that we hoped to seek shelter in, especially since a warm, dry space sounded incredible. However as we were outrunning the storm, the snow appeared!

This is not your average North Dakotan/ Northern Minnesotan snow. This is Springtime on the Pacific Crest, and in the afternoon the snow became SLUSH. Sugary, awful, ankle deep slush. We trudged forward, eventually realizing we would have to keep our navigation skills sharp as the trail became completely snow covered. We went from 3 mile per hour hiking, to barely moving at 1 mile per hour, slipping with every step. We continued until past night fall, but in the end it was clear we would not make it to our dry abandoned radio tower. We had to set up camp at a tent site though, and there was one near a spring. We finally arrived, totally exahsted, and snow camped.

The next morning we met a fellow thru hiker from Austria! Chloe and Freyja barked, alerting us to something as we broke camp, and there he was! The poor man had not seen anyone for TWO WEEKS and appeared exahsted! He was so excited to see us, and took a photo to share that he finally encountered other hikers. We were thrilled too, knowing we would have confident foot steps to follow, as he had skipped only the high sierras, and was confident with snow travel.

I used the nearby spring to refill my water for the day’s journey. The spring had a narrow spot of snow, where you could decend down to the open water. This is called a “snow bridge” when you have an area covered by snow, with water forming beneath it (or sometimes just open beneath). Snow bridges are reliable in the cold, but as warming happens they narrow and become less and less reliable. Unfortunately, this narrow spot was the only way down. And extra unfortunately, as I leaned forward over the snow bridge to fill my water filter, I heard a “crack” and the snow gave way, ending with me being waist deep in the water. BRRR. Thankfully I was able to scramble out right away, and warmed quickly in the bright sun of the day. That day I wore my shorts to let my pants dry, and shorts in the snow was a questionable equation.

As the day progressed, we advanced from walking across snow, to formal snow traversing. We had our ice axes, and microspikes, dogs on leash (and as happy as imaginable to be in the snow). While Seth took lead on navigation using primarily the garmin, I was lead on snow danger, watching for tree wells (deep spaces that form under trees that you can fall through, sometimes covered with a layer of thin snow to disguise the danger) avalanche risks (thinning cornices and snow melt were the biggest dangers), and ensuring we had Ice Axes available at the appropriate times were all part of my duties.

The mental strain of constant vigilance in a dangerous terrain, mixed with the physical strain of ensuring each foot step is a stable step wore greatly on Seth and I. Our normal milage being close to 15 per day, dropped horrifically down to 6 miles per day. Normally this isn’t a big issue, except for our dwindling food supply meant we really did need to keep going toward Mt Shasta quickly.

A few of my favorite moments I MUST mention include the day we became canyoneers instead of mountaineers. We were following the trail to our best ability, when suddenly the 45 degree angle of snow turned into a landslide of dirt. It was clear that a landslide had wiped the trail off the map, and we were unable to move forward. Seth scrambled up the mountain side, while I searched across and below for any safe options. My eyes landed on a valley that lay below us, where a gentle snow Ridge had formed making a nice path forward, in a general direction of the trail. We opted to move down to this valley, and it made for an easy few miles. Until of course, it ended in a large cliff, with a waterfall flowing strong.

Knowing we either had to turn back, or keep trekking forward, we decided we might be able to make the scramble down the cliff, if we used ropes appropriately. Freyja had her 30 foot long leash line, and I had a couple climbing carabiners. We made a system using a nearby tree, and I belayed (meaning kept Seth safe on a rope as he rappelled down the cliff edge). He tested the snow bridge that covered the river flowing beneath the waterfall and crossed safely with his pack. Next up were the dogs. I felt they would be safest off leash, scrambling down independently and Seth agreed. He called them from the top of the other side of the cliff, and both girls ran, tongues out, jolly tails wagging across the vast scramble and safely made it to the other side. I was last, and was able to safely self- belay down from the tree, and crossed the bridge untethered (though it was scary!). I scrambled up the otherside and we felt invigorated to successfully navigate such a complicated obstclacle! We found the trail again quickly after this, and though we worked all day, we only made it 6 trail miles.

The moment we should have turned around is pictured below. We were on top of a mountain and could see the path that lay before us clearly. It was a snow covered mountain pass, with clear cornices and unstable snow on the right side of the narrow path. However the left side looked completely usable, knowing we may have to do some bouldering and mountaineering together with the dogs. With determined hearts that we would make it out of the snow THAT DAY by making it 15 miles, we traversed forward.

The Ridge was actually a really fun experience. We did have to make our own foot holes and carefully navigate stable vs unstable snow, but the dogs had SO much fun, managing even 90 degree cliffs by using our foot holds and needing only occasional boosts up to snow surfaces. Chloe in particular was following her skijoring commands with excitement, believing we were on a skiing adventure instead of a rather precarious mountaineering adventure.

We made it, over the pass and on to the other side where the trail began to climb downwards, toward Mt Shasta the town. 7 more miles that day and we believed we would be free of the snow!

We pushed onwards, glisading (meaning sledding on our butts down mountains) where appropriate. Then when we double checked our route, we realized we were off the map, by a significant distance. We had walked miles already, and our excitement to be free of the snow turned into horror that we would not make it that day, because we were so far off the trail.

That day despite walking, traversing, mountaineering and canyoneering we made it only SEVEN miles again. We used the last of our propane and had only rawmen and Potatos left for human food. The dogs still had PLENTY of food, since I was slowly increasing to double their regular amount vs starting right away. They were very happy this entire time. But I was feeling discouraged, especially by having a cold soaked dinner, and Seth was also beginning to be frustrated by the endless snow.

The Worst Day

Our next day after snow camping once more, we eagerly made our way with the trail. There were no longer any footsteps from the man from Austria, and instead only deer and bear prints to follow. Once again we woke up determined to walk to the “powerlines” where we believed the snow line would dissappear.

We were tired. The snow was still complete slush. I slipped down the mountain first, using my axe to self arrest in the late morning. Seth slipped two more times, once landing in a tree well and taking excess effort to get his leg out of the tree well.

We made it to the powerlines, where the snow was supposed to disappear by lunch. Guess what? The snow was still there, and SO deep! Our elevation was below 5500 feet and we were devastated. We paused to feel sorry for ourselves, than grit our teeth and kept walking.

Finally we were traversing a dangerous area, at a 50 degree angle, fighting for each step. At the valley below us lay a rushing, glacial river. Thin, dangerous snow bridges covered it, breaking down throughout the warm day; and we watched and listened as trees fell under the pressure of snow, and slipped down onto the river.

Our exahsted steps continued forward, until I made a very dangerous slip downward. Chloe was heeling obediently behind me, to avoid being hit if I did slip. When it happened she chased after me, playing a glidsading game. I rolled over and attempted to self arrest; gathering speed. My leg slipped into a tree well up to my knee at the very same second as my ice axe gained traction, stopping me immediately. A single second later would have caused a serious leg injury. I was terrified, staring at my leg as if knowing it was God’s hand himself who pushed my ice axe in at the very most important second.

Our day came to a head around dinner time. There was a campsite just a quarter mile ahead, but we had to, of course, cross the glacial river we had been trying not to fall into all day, in order to continue on the trail. Seth’s phone battery was running low, at 3% and with mine already dead we were so desperate to be as far away from snow as we could be. So we looked for a good place to cross and found a log that looked stable. It was about 10-15 feet high up from the river, but seemed the safest option for the dogs. It also meant a very steep cliff side to traverse once across the river; but at this point we weren’t scared of 80-90 degree steep traverses.

I crossed first with Chloe, as Freyja seemed afraid of the rushing water below. We made the way unhindered, except for a brief catch in Chloe’s leash on one of the tree branches. Chloe kept her balance, I was able to maneuver the leash to un-catch and we were across the river.

Disaster struck during Seth and Freyja’s river crossing. Seth walked first with Freyja on lead behind him, and she was feeling more confident after watching Chloe. However when her leash caught on the same tree branch, she lost her balance. Freyja fell from the log and was dangling by her harness, swinging like a pendulum, and panicking with her legs kicking. Seth amazingly kept his balance, until Freyja swung back toward him. He began to fall, and I began to scream for them, fearing an SOS call was about to have to be made.

Seth and Freyja both went underwater; and I unclipped my pack, grabbed Chloe’s line as a rope and left her to stay on the far side of the river. I saw Seth gather his feet first, Freyja popped up immediately after this but was struggling to stay afloat as her leash was caught.

Seth was yelling in shock; and somehow managed to keep Freyja above water, as well as keep his feet in the river. I made it back across and scrambled down to the rivers unstable edge where I was able to untangle Freyja’s line and throw her up to land. This detangling process is where I feared Seth’s ankle was broken as it was twisted at a strange angle around a rock and the leash; and he was standing on just one leg (again, I have NO idea how he was able to get to his feet).

I made it to Seth who had stopped yelling and was staring forward in clear shock. I began to yell his name, pulling him toward the land but he was unresponsive, staring into space. The second before I was going to slap him into alertness, he came back into focus and said, “You’re right, I need to get out of the water.” We worked together and he was able to put weight through the ankle I believed had to have been broken. He scrambled up with assistance to land, and we took emergency action to prevent hypothermia.

Setting up the tent on the spot, crossing the stream again with Chloe, filling the zero degree sleeping bag with hand warmers and getting Seth inside and warm all passed in a blur of time and adrenaline. He was able to successfully warm up, as was Freyja; and the nightmare river crossing came to an end, in yet another night of camping on top of snow.

Mt Shasta At Last

The next morning we had to painfully, cross the river once more. Thankfully, we crossed with no issues and now with the Garmin dead (I didn’t know it was running all night), both phones dead and no map (it is down river, along with a few other items that were on the outside of Seth’s pack); we were given yet another God wink by finding ourselves on the trail, immediately after the river crossing. Less than a mile later, the snow began to dissipate. The road to Mt. Shasta required 2 more nights on the trail; one of which was in the middle of the trail after encountering MORE SNOW. But you know what, we survived. No serious injuries to our bodies, nor the dogs. We found a hitch into Mt Shasta from an awesome gal who we have since gotten together with for food; and the town itself has been a gem.

We decided to take a couple days off here for healing. We have eaten half of the food in the town, and our lesson on food scarcity was hard learned. We ended our last day on the trail sharing one package of Oatmeal, and having just one more pack of potatos in my bear canister.

I have learned so much already from my first 127 miles. The biggest lesson though, is to NEVER underestimate the power it takes to make it through deep snow. Always trust that when you’re in over your head, you can turn around and find your way out. I’ve learned of the kindness of people who we have encountered out here already; knowing that we are not alone physically. Honestly, I’ve realized that Seth and I have powerful spiritual guides (guardian angels if you will) and we can trust them to help us through the times we struggle mentally too.

Last, I’ve learned dogs are truly capable of anything. Chloe herself has shown so much confidence and joy on this journey, it keeps us strong during the hard times. Hopefully this is the only truly dramatic post I will have to share! Please keep an eye on our journey as we make our quest North! As always, many happy trails and happy tails to you all.

Barking Embarkers