The ‘NorCal blues’ are a well documented phenomenon on the PCT. The scenery is a comedown after the majesty of the Sierra, the novelty of having to get up and hike 25 miles every day whether you like it or not is wearing off, and you hit the halfway point only to find you’re… still in California. But I’m gonna come right out and say it – I really like NorCal. And not in a contrarian, I like it because everyone else hates it sort of way. The Sierra was stunning, the most stunning place I’ve ever seen, but honestly I was glad when it was over. The hiking was so difficult to the point of being joyless, so the relatively gentle terrain of NorCal and the change in scenery to giant, shady forests and fields of wildflowers is suiting me down to the ground. And dare I say it, there’s barely a mosquito in sight. So despite people’s protestations that ‘we’re not really in NorCal’ (where are we then? Spain?), I’m declaring myself a fan of this section. And if it turns out later that I’m wrong? Well, everyone loves to say I told you so.
Day Sixty-seven, miles 1018.1-1024.4
I woke up, unzipped my tent, and it just… kept on zipping. All the way off. I spent ten minutes wrangling with it before remembering I am not remotely handy and resigning myself to the fact I’d have to spend $400 on a new tent. We were nowhere near a town, so the best I could do was order one to Tahoe and hope the mosquitos would grant me amnesty for the next four days. Aquaman generously offered to sellotape me into my tent every night, but I politely declined.
To cheer myself up after the unexpected financial hit I decided to spend even more money (in for a penny, if you will) on a pile of French toast in the Kennedy Meadows restaurant. The day passed in a blur of chores and calorie consumption before we caught the shuttle back to trail. It was just six miles to camp and I was really loving the change in scenery, particularly that the trail had morphed from miles of jagged rocks into a heavenly soft dirt track. Maybe my feet will stop weeping for the first time in weeks.
Day Sixty-eight, miles 1024.4-1048
A+ day today. The NorCal vistas are really doing it for me, the sprays of wildflowers, gushing streams and luscious waxy plants overgrowing on the trail. The first day out of town is always the worst, when your body thinks it’s going back to all its usual creature comforts only to have them ripped away again, but a long lunch break and a nap did wonders for recovery. I was one mile out from camp when Dracula texted to tell us our planned campsite was occupied, so it was another four miles to the next one. Usually such a pronouncement would send me into a tailspin but the trail was so pretty, winding round a sparkling lake and down a rocky red cliff side that I didn’t mind too much; I put on some Felix Laband and vibed all the way down. We finished at a hilltop campsite with a view of the valley, and given the day’s extra miles decided to try and push to get to Tahoe a day earlier than planned. The goal is always, always to get to town as soon as possible.
Day Sixty-nine, miles 1048-1070.9
Today was passing much as normal before I ran into Dracula on the trail and he offered me one of his edibles. Why not, I thought, and gulped it down. I won’t bore you with tales of where my mind went for the next three hours – stoner thoughts are like dreams, they’re only interesting and profound to yourself – but suffice to say I had some very meaningful revelations about certain song lyrics that I could not recall afterwards for the life of me and ate two sharing packets of Nerds candy. Oops.
The buzz wore off in the afternoon, just in time for a tough uphill. The trail meandered through hot, exposed meadows blanketed in flowers and the climb was rewarded with views of dozens of small, turquoise lakes. We camped at the gorgeous Lost Lake and tried to block out the sounds of a group of other hikers committing the cardinal sin of being awake after 7pm.
Day Seventy, miles 1070.9-1091.9
I was up and about early enough to see the pink sunrise peeking over the lake and hiked out with Tofu and Babylegs, another hiker who had joined us the night before. We spent the morning trading noughties references (there may have been a Hannah Montana singalong but I couldn’t possibly confirm) and then I peeled off to smash out some miles alone. Enjoyed the worst cathole experience of my life thanks to the attendance of every mosquito Satan ever created, resulting in bites in some… interesting places.
Lunch was a brief affair as we were all raring to get to Tahoe, so we headed off quickly into a brutally steep descent and, in my case, a stupid and exhausting detour into a canyon filled with boulders, but eventually we made it to the road and within five minutes we were cruising to town in a Tesla, which I took great pleasure in covering in dirt. We made it to the public campground and immediately dove into the shower, drank some beers and then went out to get pizza and discuss the origins of Mormonism, which made a nice change from dissecting the finer points of how to make a ramen bomb. I had a (tipsy) craving for soft serve ice cream so tripped down the road to McDonald’s, to find that only the drive thru was open. With my characteristic lack of shame I squeezed into the line of cars and moseyed along the queue until I got my caramel sundae. Actually, two caramel sundaes, since they’d made an extra by accident. Well worth the weird looks I got from the locals.
Day Seventy-one, zero miles
I woke up too early as usual and spent half an hour loitering outside the campground’s coffee cart like some kind of caffeine starved ghost. Soon enough I was headed back to camp with coffees for myself and Dracula and a donut, which proved to be too much of a balancing act for me to handle, and one of the coffees went flying. Luckily it was Dracula’s and not mine, teehee.
Once all the troops were up we went and got breakfast at Bert’s diner, did a CVS run and the usual gear shop trawl before Tofu’s mom arrived to take us to our Air BnB at the other end of the lake. It was about an hour’s drive (big lake!) and I started feeling incredibly carsick as we drove along the winding road. The others went to a Mexican restaurant but I was so nauseous I had to sit outside it staring into the middle distance for an hour. A very kind local brought me some water and liquid IV (VERY kind, I know how much those cost) and I soon started to feel better. We made our way to the house for dinner, wine, and a few rounds of Scattergories, at which Tofu’s mom absolutely destroyed us.
Day Seventy-two, zero miles
I’d decided, in a fit of unrealistic productivity on trail, that on this trip to town I wanted to do some baking – partly to make some good snacks to take back out with me and partly because I was craving some semblance of normal life. Of course when I got to town it was the last thing I felt like doing, but the ingredients were bought so I set to work, and managed to churn out some cracking raspberry oat bars and a caramel apple crumble. Particularly impressive given the WiFi went out between the two projects and I had to make up the crumble recipe.
I tested out my new tent on the lawn and then we piled in the car to go to Sugar Pine Point Beach, where we spent a lazy afternoon sunning ourselves, swimming in the lake, and eating $20 sandwiches, cosplaying at being normal humans for a few hours. Out of the blue I’d started feeling homesick for the first time in ages (or at all?) and wasted an hour or so checking to see if I could fly my boyfriend out for under $3000. I’ll let you guess how that went. I wallowed in the feeling for a bit and then made myself snap out of it and enjoy the zero, which was rounded off with another slap up dinner and a viewing of the Princess Diaries, which has aged surprisingly well. It was Dracula’s first time seeing it, and he pronounced it ‘charming’. Quite.
Day Seventy-three, miles 1091.9-1115.7
I was up all night with yet more stomach issues (when will I learn to stop overindulging on zero days?) so was dragging my feet as we drove back to trail. I was soon distracted by the ridiculous views – it was lake after stunning lake as we climbed past rich people’s vacation homes and up into the wilderness, peppered with glassy water overhung with craggy mountains. I was still feeling a bit ropy so chugged some electrolytes and was soon back to normal (or hiking normal, so like 50% okay and 50% completely broken). I was so tired after the bad night’s sleep that I fell asleep sitting up while eating lunch.
I slapped myself awake and continued on up the mountain where I found a dude handing out lemonade – the most unexpected trail magic yet! The afternoon sky was full of pops of pink cloud – the desolation wilderness is just stunning, despite its rather dour name. Everything was starting to hurt in the last few miles – we’d all gone soft after two days in town – but we had an excuse to stop early after reading comments about a psychotic and fearless bear at our planned campsite. Cheers Yogi, you saved us three miles.
Day Seventy-four, miles 1115.7-1145
Pleasant as it was to be spared the extra miles the day before, all it really meant was we had to make them up today, and we made the slightly unhinged decision to attempt a 29 mile day. The first half flew by in a blur of fields full of lily of the valley. There were a few climbs, but they were negligible compared to what we were doing in the Sierra so I stormed up them. Managed to smash my shin on yet another blowdown – I always forget to pick up my trailing leg. I’d have made a terrible hurdler.
My shoes were about to give up the ghost so I managed to order some new ones with a rare bar of phone service then continued along a windy ridge with spectacular views, the bowl of the lake on one side and a steep slope filled with fir trees as far as you could see on the other. The trail passed through a ski area in the afternoon before what should have a been a cruisy downhill into camp, but my nemesis, the piles of jagged rocks, was back again, and given the tread on my trainers was worn smooth, it was particularly agonising. Finally arrived at the campsite after a huge day. To think it was taking me twelve hours to walk fifteen miles two months ago, and now I’d done almost thirty. What a boss, if I say so myself.
Day Seventy-five, miles 1145-1161.9
I thought I’d feel completely dead after the previous day’s exertions, but my legs were still kicking as I climbed Tinker Knob (who names these things, honestly) and then down into Truckee. A trail runner passed me and offered me a ride into town, so I raced down to meet him and we were on our way. We hit the post office where I got rid of my godforsaken bear can and then luxuriated in how light my pack was while scoffing chilaquiles in a nearby diner. I ditched my unspeakably disgusting sun hoodie and picked up a new one, grabbed food for the next few days and then went to Donner Ski Ranch, where we collected our free 40oz Bud Lights. I love the PCT. The last seven miles were a slightly drunken stumble to camp by 8pm. It was weird seeing the sunset for once – I’m normally dead to the world by this time.
Day Seventy-six, miles 1161.9-1181.1
The morning was all ups and downs, through fields of this cabbagey-looking plant that Tofu identified as Mule’s Ear. Since the terrain has become easier I’ve stopped having to self medicate with constant infusions of podcasts, instead enjoying the sounds of the wind whispering through the trees and my last two brain cells knocking together. We ran into a hiker who was backtracking eight miles to retrieve his lost wallet (awful) and who told us there was trail magic up ahead! Man, I’ve missed being close to civilisation. I put on Bill Bryson’s audiobook of his travels through Europe and enjoyed his skewering of various nationalities, although it must be said that some of his observations have aged like milk.
Sped through the rest of the afternoon to make it down before the trail angels left, and saw the most unbelievable spread – beer, soda, ice cream, fruit, pastries, cold brew, a charging station. The angel asked if we had any ideas for future trail magic but I couldn’t think of a single thing he’d missed. I loaded up on as much as I could without seeming like a scavenger and then trekked the last three miles, during which Aquaman decided to treat me to a list of all his favourite scenes from the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise. Let the record show, I didn’t actually ask.
Day Seventy-seven, miles 1181.1-1216.5
The trail was all downhill in the morning, but through rough, overgrown switchbacks, so it was tough going. I had a right job trying to dig a cathole, especially with hikers going past every five minutes. We passed over a bunch of bridges strung high over gorges and then hit the road that led into Sierra City. I was out of cigarettes and craving French toast, so spent twenty minutes trying to hitch a ride. There wasn’t much traffic though, and what there was clearly didn’t like the cut of my jib, so I gave up and hiked the mile and a half into town with a friendly German who was dismayed that his hand drawn knife and fork sign on a piece of tyvek hadn’t gotten him a ride.
I went to the store for a nicotine refill which came in the form of the fry cook, who I’m pretty sure was just selling off his own stash. With that in mind, he could have ripped me off a lot more than he did. If he’d told me they were $100 a pack I would have paid it. Got my French toast fix at the Red Moose cafe and then was back on trail by 11am. It was a seven mile climb up and around the Sierra Buttes, but whether thanks to the carb loading or because I’m just a machine now, it went by painlessly. The trail went through shaded woods at first before depositing me on an ridge below the towering Buttes. It was exposed, rocky and uphill – the classic PCT trifecta.
At the top I was ecstatic to discover another dose of trail magic, and sipped my coke while sitting in an actual chair, the height of luxury. We decided to take the blue blaze trail for the next six miles as the actual PCT went down into a valley and back up again rather than going along the top like a normal person. Three miles before camp there was MORE trail magic in the form of a dude giving out sparkling water, particularly welcome given my planned water source turned out to be a mud puddle. We soldiered on the last three miles, getting water from Pauley Seep, which was about as appetising as it sounds, then collapsed into camp after our second marathon day in a row.
Day Seventy-eight, miles 1216.5-1244.6
Today was filled with the most stunning scenery, there must have been about twenty different shades of green in the forest from the moss on the trees to the pine trees to the plants next to trail, with splashes of wildflowers dotted about. The trail went up and down relentlessly – the elevation map looked like the ECG of someone who was not long for this world.
All the water today was off trail, so there were a few detours and long carries. I checked my remaining dinner to see how much water it needed – I’d thought it was some beans and rice combo I’d bought in an attempt to be healthy, which was why I’d left it until last – but I was ecstatic to find it was actually a packet of mac n cheese. The resultant euphoria carried me through the next few miles of burn zone with dozens of skinny black trees poking into the deep blue sky. Even though what they represent is obviously terrible, they were weirdly beautiful in a stark sort of way. So I was enjoying the views until the trail became so overgrown with the gorse that pops up after a wildfire that it ripped open all the old cuts on my legs and added about a hundred new ones. Oh well. Town tomorrow!
