White Pass to Stevens Pass

The three days between White Pass and Snoqualmie Pass flew by in what seemed like an instant.  Although the trail often passed through areas that had been recently clear-cut, the scenery was not nearly as dull as I had been warned.  There wasn't anything to rival Goat Rocks or Mt. Adams, but the trail was clear as it made its closest approach to Mt. Rainier (~12 miles from the base).  The weather also held out and continued to provide unseasonably warm and sunny conditions for hiking.  At night, I was amused (although often awakened) by the loud  buggeling of elk.  Bow hunting season had just opened up for elk, so I ran into a number of hunters on the trail asking about where I had heard or seen the animals.  Other than being questioned by soft-spoken hunters about the whereabouts of elk, the only other interesting note for that section was hitting trail magic every day.  First there was Shrek parked near Chinook Pass with coolers of soda and beer.  Then there was Magic Man parked at an unsuspecting dirt road crossing with Krispy Kreme donuts and coffee.  I couldn't take many since I had just eaten a decent lunch, but Half Fast downed six fresh donuts so that he wouldn't be trumped by Sunshine - the 11 year old girl who had apparently managed five donuts while passing through just a few hours ahead of us.  Finally, there was Not Phil's Dad (the father of 2009 thru-hiker Not Phil, named for his resemblance to Phil Collins) camped out at Tacoma Pass.  I was hiking into the night with Red Blaze and Half Fast with the impression that I probably wouldn't even have dinner given the time.  Then, just as we reached our campsite for the night, we saw Not Phil's Dad camped out with a pavilion, lawn chairs, propane stove, and multiple coolers.  We went from planning to skip dinner entirely to indulging in hot chili dogs, chips, and cold drinks.  No wonder my net weight less at the end of the trail was 0 lbs!  

Before pulling into Snoqualmie Pass to pick up my resupply package, I pulled ahead of Red Blaze and Half Fast with the result being that I spent a night alone at the creepiest campsite imaginable.  I was camped off-trail by the side of Ridge Lake with THICK fog rolling in.  It was the quintessential scene from a horror movie, and I was preparing to run at the first sound of Friday the 13th music.  At least I had 3G reception since I was so close to I-90 and was able to say a few final words to friends on Google Chat and Facebook.  I definitely let technology invade my wilderness experience more and more as I moved northward, but I figured I deserved a break.

Fortunately I slept well without being awaken by ax murders or swamp monsters and was able to pick up my resupply package at the Summit Inn/Pancake House before noon.  While browsing through the hiker box, I came across a trail magic container with "magic crystals" (quartz) and an attached story.  I thought the story, posted below, was worthy of taking a crystal to defend myself against the onset of snow:

"PCTers,

You must have shown great courage to get this far, PCTer; but there are still many trials ahead before you reach the Golden Trailhead that guards the invisible borderland of Canada where the bravest of you will be greeted by a host of Furry Friendly Monsters, with wings, who will breathe raw freedom into your nostrils and shrink your feet back down to their previous proportion in reward for your hiking from Mexico to Canada...

Frozen fingers, days of 35 degree rain, vicious Wood Elves with a taste for skinny-assed thru-hikers, Bigfoot (and his mother) - all these dangers you must face as you pass through the Northern Cascades, the Sacred Evergreen Jungle that knows no state or nation or beaches...

BUT, never fear!

I, Bookmaker Jake (who made a book on this trail on Sept. 8th, 2011), formerly known as Cashe (who thru-hiked the Trail of Trails in 2006 and met the Furry Friendly Monsters), have some magic for you.  The crystals in this NASA designed Tang container aren't any old crystals found in the circus stands of One-Eyed Carnival Wookies - these magical trail crystals were forged from the fiery blasting of we the Crystal Miners of Mt. Spruce - which you could gain access to if you were classified as a Miner, or an Assistant Miner/Human Pack Mule in my case.. Otherwise I am not permitted to say where Mt. Spruce is, other than to say that it's at the Heart of the Northern Cascades... Toothless Brit of the Queen's Empire is still searching for it.  The Human Pack Mules, like me, of the Evergreen Jungle make lots of money on field trips seemingly looking for Mt. Spruce.  Anyway!  My fellow miners and I used all our crystal mining magic to put the purest of pure trail magic in these shiny rocks.  They didn't, but I did perform the appropriate dancing rituals with spirits and Pip, Evergreen Jungle Cat In Training, to add a little something-something to keep the snow away for at least another few weeks.

Best of luck to you!

And remember - when all other lights fail you, don't hold your crystal up and expect it to shine.  Pray for moonbeams instead.  Ha!"

Climbing out of Snoqualmie Pass, everything around me changed in an instant.  The second I reached the top of the initial climb, all the day-hikers disappeared, the weather turned south for the season, and there was no doubt that I had entered the North Cascades.  I suddenly found myself surrounded by clouds of fog, jagged peaks, and rocky trail lined on one side by a dark rock wall and on the other side by a fog-shrouded abyss.  Thick clouds continued to roll in such that by the time I set up my tent, I couldn't even see the alpine lake that was literally a stone's throw away.  At least the rain held off until I had my tent set up, and it lightened up enough for me to pack up camp the next morning without getting things soaked.  The rain continued incessantly for the next 24 hours and the temperature dropped into the 40's, but I managed to stay warm and dry enough to be happy.  Even with the rain, Alpine Lakes Wilderness was spectacular.  Rugged terrain, cloud-shrouded peaks in every direction, and dark-blue lakes everywhere I looked - this section was definitely a highlight of my trip.  It was also the most physically challenging section since escaping the Sierras.  Most of the trail was tightly-stacked switchbacks up and down steep mountainsides.  The sections of level trail traversing the bottom of glacier-carved valleys seemed short and fleeting.

On my last night out before Stevens Pass, I got a reminder that the seasons really were changing and that summer was gone.  I decided to camp on an exposed ridge at 5,700 feet, and I woke up to freezing winds and a slight flurry of snow.  I knew it was going to be a cold morning, but I didn't think my hands would be going numb packing up!  At least I warmed up quickly once I got moving- and by 2pm I was warm, dry, and freshly showered at The Dinsmores' Hiker Haven.

The Dinsmores are trail angels in Baring (small town just west of Stevens Pass and Skykomish on WA Highway 2) that host hikers in a garage that's been converted into a hostel.  Although the small hostel was jam-packed with other hikers, it was good to catch a break from the weather.  I also caught up with Buffalo Jump Sly whom I hadn't seen since he split into Vermilion Valley Resort (VVR) in the High Sierras.  He was pretty surprised to see me since he was under the impression that I had permanently left the trail when I took time off for my shin splint.  Mrs. Dinsmore did my laundry as I watched Golden Eye, and it turns out that my pants were in worse shape than I thought.  The back of my shorts were already torn to tatters by the time I finished sliding my way down the Sierra snow-slopes, and another 1,000 miles of hiking hadn't done much to improve their condition.  In all her years of hosting hikers, she has never seen a pair of shorts that were as badly torn-up as mine.  She wanted to hang them on the wall along with other beyond-destroyed pieces of gear that hikers had left over the years - so I agreed to mail them to her once I had finished the trip.

It poured all through the night and was still raining the next morning, but I was itching to get an early start and to finally finish the trail.  Fortunately my mom's cousin from Seattle drove all the way out to say hi and give me a ride back to the trailhead - so I was able to get 18 miles of hiking in and pitch camp just as the rain let up.  Slowly but surely, Canada was getting closer...

Sisters (OR) to Bridge of the Gods (WA)

(OOPS, I ACCIDENTALLY UPLOADED THIS ENTRY AFTER MY ENTRY FOR SOUTHERN WA.  ALSO, THIS ENTRY ORIGINALLY POSTED FROM MY ANDROID PHONE)

Well, I'm behind on updating my blog (like usual), so I figured I should get to it now that I am currently [when I started writing this post] halfway through WA.  I downloaded the Blogger app for my phone, so we'll see how well blogging works when done in a tent using a micro-keyboard...

After cursing much of southern Oregon for its mosquitoes and lack of scenery, the section after Sisters was a pleasant surprise.  My memory of the first few days is a bit sketchy, but I remember that everyone was pretty excited to be out of the (really bad) bugs and was looking forward to Timberline Lodge's All-You-Can-Eat breakfast.  I also got to meet some new faces on this section by hiking with Annie, Data Muffin, and Topsy Turvy (I had seen them previously, but we never really talked extensively).  The trail first started to get interesting as we approached Mt. Jefferson.  Mt. Jefferson is one of the first major volcanoes that you encounter while traveling northwards through the Cascade range.  Whereas the Sierras strike me as a fairly uniform range where the size of the mountains gradually changes, the Cascades are characterized by massive volcanoes dotting a landscape of comparably smaller mountains.  From south to north you have: Shasta, Jefferson, Hood, Adams, St. Helens, Rainier, and Baker.  I could see the crooked precipice of Mt. Jefferson from a day or two away, and it was fascinating to see the details of its glaciers as I got closer.  At one point we had to cross a milky-white (as a result of fine sediment/silt particles produced by glacial ice grinding against the volcanic rocks above) glacial stream and couldn't help but laugh about how much things had changed since the Sierras.  None of us would have thought twice about walking straight through that stream in the Sierras since keeping shoes dry was just a lost cause.  Yet dry shoes have been a guarded luxury since escaping the Sierras, and we spent over 10 minutes trying to find a dry route before giving up and splashing through.

That evening we camped next to an alpine lake in the lush meadows of "Jefferson Park".  For once I was actual able to enjoy a lakeside view since the temperature dropped low enough to keep the mosquitoes down.  I somehow ended up being the first one out of camp the next morning (I'm usually kidding myself anytime I set an alarm earlier than 5:55 AM) and was quickly able to justify having lugged my microspikes from Crater Lake.  There were still several large snowfields on the north-facing slopes that had to be traversed after climbing out of Jefferson Park and I hit them just after the sun came up.  The snow was hard and icy as would be expected that early in the day, but they were no problem at all with the microspikes.  I felt a bit sorry for Wet Smoke, the only other hiker out there at the time, as he gingerly made his way down the ice.

After Mt.  Jefferson came Mt. Hood and Timberline Lodge.  Annie, Data Muffin, Topsy Turvy, and I all camped at various points along the ridge that were above treeline and close to Timberline Lodge the night before heading in for breakfast.  Although the night was probably the coldest that I've had all trip (woke up to frost on my tent and pack), it was worth it to see the sunset over Mt. Hood.  As for the breakfast, things on the trail often get hyped up and we didn't want to get too optimistic about all the rumors describing an amazing spread.  Fortunately Timberline Lodge lived up to the hype.  Eggs, pancakes, seasoned potatoes, fresh fruit, make-your-own waffle bar with all sorts of toppings (berries, chocolate, nuts, whipped cream...), house-made toasted granola, milk, OJ, AND amazing coffee.  It might have cost $15, but I'm pretty sure everyone ate more than their money's worth.  I walked around the historic building to get a closer look at its craftsmanship as I digested. My understanding is that it was commissioned in the 1930's to make work for unemployed woodworkers, stone masons, and other craftsmen.

I left the lodge feeling sluggish from all the food, but I needed to push some miles for the day to set myself up for a quicker arrival at Cascade Locks.  Cascade Locks would be my last town stop before entering Washington, and I wanted to get in on Friday before the post office closed for the weekend.  As a result, I ended up popping a caffeine pill and hiking well after dark.  I'm not a big fan of hiking at night since it's easy to stub my toes and it can get pretty creepy, but it's still fun to do once in a while.  At one point I could look back through a break in the trees and an orange glow caught my eye on the horizon.  I realized that I was staring at the flames of a forest fire (many miles away), and I later learned that I had narrowly escaped trail closures that forced hikers behind me to skip sections of the trail.

Although I overslept my alarm, I still got up early enough to take the Eagle Creek alternate route (a more interesting trail, but too narrow and crowded with day hikers for equestrians on the PCT) and grab my packages from the post office.  In addition to five more days of food, I got new shoes AND new socks!  My feet were very happy thereafter.  I decided to camp for two nights so that I could catch a true zero-day, and I timed it perfectly to coincide with PCT Days.  PCT Days is an annual event for the trail community that draws together past and present thru-hikers, trail angels, gear vendors, and anyone else with an interest in the trail.  There was a gear demo/sale, raffle to benefit the PCTA, and screening of the documentary Six Million Steps.  It was also a good time to catch up with hikers that I hadn't seen for a while.  Wired was there on account of taking a few days off to go into Portland, Balls and Sunshine were there after taking six days off for a badly-infected blister on Sunshine's foot, and Thumper (now off-trail) was there with his wife Stumbling Goat (got off-trail partway through the Sierras, it's a long story) to serve up lots of burgers and breakfast burritos.  Oh, and it all took place on "Thunder Island" in the Columbia River.  Thunder Island was separated from the "mainland" about 100 years ago when Cascade Locks was constructed to facilitate commerce up and down the river.  Back then, long before dams along the the river calmed things down, there was an impassable series of rapids that had to be portaged around.  Now of course the lock/canal is a historic footnote, but the town is still alive with tourists.  The next morning (actually, it was after noon by the time I had finished two breakfasts), I walked across The Bridge of the Gods with Cricket into the final frontier: Washington!  

Welcome to Washington

(THIS ENTRY POSTED FROM MY MOBILE PHONE.)

After crossing the Bridge of the Gods, I made a great first impression on some local day-hikers by dropping a very long string of four letter words.  I had just been stung on the back of my leg by an unnecessarily angry wasp, and I was none too happy about the rude welcoming to the state.  I was stung again the following day on my other leg for no good reason, and I began to wonder what I had ever done to piss off the insect population of Washington.  Perhaps it was a preemptive strike on their part for what happened the day after that.  Cricket and I had caught up to Headbanger, and we were all looking for a place to sit down for lunch.  Unfortunately we were in an area overgrown with vegetation and devoid of good logs to sit on.  When we finally did come to a trail-side log that I thought would make a good bench, my Leave-No-Trace ethics broke down and I began to hack away at the surrounding brush with my trekking poles.  I just wanted to clear some space for our legs and it didn't look like the brush would have the slightest trouble regrowing.  This was a mistake.  As luck would have it, I was hacking away right above a hidden bees nest - and they did not approve.  Before I knew it I was hopping the "bee dance" while cursing, swatting, and running a few yards down-trail.  I ended up with three stings to the knee, one to the wrist, and one right beneath my shoulder.  We concluded that we were not welcome at that log and pressed on to another lunch spot.

Aside from a few bee attacks, and more than one ravaging encounter with mosquitoes, the first five days in WA treated me pretty well.  In the areas that required a lot of climbing, I was at least treated to spectacular views of Mt. Adams.  Mt. Ranier may be the largest peak in Washington, but the PCT doesn't get closer than 12 miles from its base.  However, the trail wraps around the behemoth of Mt. Adams just several days out from Cascade Locks.  It was awesome.  When the trail dove away from the mountain and into a brushy "green tunnel", it also flattened out so that it was easy to push big miles.  However, the real highlight of this section was Goat Rocks.

I had heard that Goat Rocks was one of the most scenic and challenging sections of Washington - and I was not disappointed on either account.  To start with, I had perfect weather, brilliant sunlight, AND a light pack (it was my last day before White Pass, so I had eaten most of my food at that point).  When the scenery is amazing and the trail in good condition, I'll take steep climbs over flat trail any day.  As the trail climbed from our campsite, the views just kept getting better and better.  The wild flowers were in full bloom at ground level.  Further on the horizon, we were surrounded by snow-clad peaks.  It was truly awe-inspiring.
After a few hours of hiking, we came to a juncture where we could chose between the "hiker" route or the "stock" route.  It was clear from our maps that the hiker route just shot straight up an extra 1,000 feet only to drop straight back down again - a classic P.U.D. (Pointless Up and Down).  Being hikers and not horses, we chose this route anyway.  When we finally reached the end of what was probably the steepest series of switchbacks I've encountered on the trail (I can't compare against the Sierras since all the switchbacks were buried in snow last I "cut" them), we stopped for lunch atop a rocky pinnacle. 

While we were doing lunch, we got cell reception and a call from Headbanger's dad saying that he was already at White Pass.  Not only did he have a room with bunk beds - real beds! - to sleep in, but he was also cooking steak and potatoes for all the hikers passing through.  It would mean another 18 miles, but we decided that this was too good of an offer to turn up.  So we proceeded to haul ass down a knife's edge ridge covered in loose shale.  It was exhilarating to practically run down the spine of Goat Rocks surrounded by nothing but open sky and sunshine!  It also brought back a lot of good memories of trail running in the Wasatch Mountains from last summer; a subtle reminder of things I gave up to do this trail.

It was a long and exhausting day, but Cricket, Headbanger, and I made it to White Pass just after dark.  Instead of camping at a swampy and mosquito infested lake, we got showers, beds, and tons of freshly cooked food.  The next morning we made our resupply runs at the "Kracker Barrel" general store.  The ladies running the place were awesome and very kind to thru-hikers (I hope that the staff from Echo Lake Resort and the Old Station general store/Hat Creek Resort make it up here at some point so that they can learn a few manners!).  My resupply box didn't arrive on time, but the store agreed to forward it ahead to Stevens Pass for me as soon as it came in.  Fortunately the store was surprisingly well stocked for hiker needs.  Headbanger and Cricket headed out a few hours before me, so I left for the next leg of the journey with Liz, Meow Meow, and Funyan.     

Photos for Washington

For anyone interested in the rest of my photos from Washington, the public Facebook album can be viewed at:

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.886371881609.2348577.12820170&l=4aaa7920b6&type=1

Photos for Oregon and Trail Name (Scout's Honor)

For anyone interested in more photos, the public album from Facebook can be reached at:

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.880046567589.2346241.12820170&l=8397a26732&type=1




Also, in case anyone on the trail is trying to find my blog based on my trail name, I should probably post that my trail name has been Scout's Honor (alternative misspellings may include Scouts Honor, Scout Honor, or just Scouts) for over a thousand miles.  It's not a very exciting trail name, but it fits well enough and ought to do until a more exciting name (e.g., "Pants On Fire", "Grenade", etc.) comes along.  Daybreaker and Easy Strider came up with it on our first day out of Kennedy Meadows since I had been bouncing scout-related names for several hundred miles prior.  I left the McDonalds at Cajon Pass (Southern California, very early in the trip) with about seven other hikers.  We ended up hitting a long series of switchbacks just as it was getting late and eventually camped together ON (I think my previous post from the time has a photo of all our tents lined up along the trail tread) the trail since there was nowhere else to go.  Between cooking away from camp so as not to attract animals to my food at night, telling some of the other hikers not to through rocks as we were going up switchbacks while hikers were known to be below us, and a few other quips, the group agreed that a name related to scouts would be fitting.  However, it took a while to come up with one since "Scout", "Boyscout", "Girlscout", and several others were already taken.

Onwards Through Oregon

After packing down ridiculous amounts of food at the Etna brewery, I drove myself and a few of the other hikers back to the trailhead so that we could get a few miles in before sunset.  I think I forgot to mention in my last post that just as I was arriving at the access point to Etna, a group of PCTA members pulled up to the trailhead to start a section hike.  Kodak Karen recognized me as a thru-hiker and immediately offered her car keys to me on the condition that I drive PCT hikers back to the trail head when I returned.  This was definitely one of the more interesting rides I have had into town.  I was grateful to be entrusted with her car, but in hindsight it was a bit crazy on her part to just hand over the keys.  Even if integrity was not a concern to her, I would have thought twice about giving the keys to a hiker who hasn't been behind a wheel for over three months - especially considering the road.  The wide two-lane road at Etna Summit quickly turned into one of the windiest one-lane mountain roads that I have ever driven, and the car didn't exactly handle as smoothly as my Saturn Ion.  Having my view obscured by the rising sun and a dusty windshield (wiper fluid was empty of course) added an extra bit of "excitement".  Clearly I made it in and out of town safely though.

From Etna, it was about another two days until we hit the last trail town in CA: Seiad Valley.  Passing through the small town of Seiad Valley, we quickly learned that there was actually one more state to pass through before we could enter Oregon: The State of Jefferson.  Long-story-short, the rural counties in northern CA and southern OR have a history of feeling neglected by their larger state governments.  In response, there was a fairly serious movement in the decades before WWII to gain autonomy by succeeding from their respective states and joining to form the 51st state (they even went as far as electing a governor).  However, the movement lost steam when WWII fell into swing - yet the independent attitude of the area still remains.  State of Jefferson seals were plastered everywhere, along with "NO K.S. MONUMENT!" signs.  The latest ire to the locals is a proposal to designate much of the surrounding area, including the town of Seiad Valley, as a Klamath-Siskiyou National Monument.  Although the proposal is being pushed by environmentalists in Ashland, the locals are STRONGLY against the plan.  Granted I was party to very biased details since my main source of info was talking with the store clerk and campground manager, but my understanding is that a national monument designation would greatly hamper the town's land and water rights. Whatever the details, it is very clear that this town does not want to be messed with.  Anyhow, I passed on the cafe's Five Pound Pancake Challenge and left early evening to make the 4,500' ascent back to the crest.  The climb was pleasant considering we sat out the afternoon heat, but I was definitely looking forward to Oregon on account of its rumored flatness.

Oregon came soon enough and there was much rejoicing.  After three months of heat, sun, cold, and snow, it felt great to finally make it out of CA!  Before I left for this trip, I had never even backpacked over 100 miles - yet there I was with 1,700 miles down across an entire state.  To make the celebration even better, our next resupply was the town of Ashland.  Of all the towns that I've visited on the trail, Ashland is the one that I would most like to visit again in the future (preferably with a car).  Between the great downtown area, a large city park, and a renowned Shakespeare festival, there was so much to see and do but too little time.  I focused on resupplying and relaxing - thus I held back from wandering around and exploring everything that the town had to offer.  While the hikers that were sharing my motel room went to a late-night play at the other end of town, I put in a solid 12 hours of sleep instead.  So it was a good rest stop, but I have motivation for going back at some point.

From Ashland, the trail turned towards Crater Lake National Park.  The trail also lived up to its reputation of being flat and soft - but it was not the land of milk and honey that I had been hoping for.  To be honest, walking through a perfectly flat expanse of trees can get boring pretty quick.  I like climbing, and I was soon longing to be up in the mountains again.  Furthermore, there were mosquitoes.  Lots of mosquitoes.  Literary devices escape me for an accurate description of the horror (Gangsta Rap, Collin, and I have concluded that only creative sounds - not words - can come close).  How an ecosystem can support that many blood-suckers is beyond my comprehension.  From about two days out from Crater Lake to four days past the park, I was swarmed 24/7.  I'm not keen on exposing myself to poison, but I finally broke down and began (sparingly) using DEET in the afternoons when it was too hot to ensconce myself in rain gear.  Fortunately there were a few scenic gems floating throughout the mosquito hell-hole.

The first point of interest was Crater Lake.  I thought Tahoe was amazing the first time I saw it, but Crater Lake blew me away.  The dark and pure blue of the surface was mesmerizing, and the volcanic Wizard Island plus the rock walls combined to make one of the most surreal images of the trip.  The PCT rides along the rim of Crater Lake for just over seven miles, and my timing worked out such that I got to split the traverse over two days.  Although the rim is technically a no-camping zone, I figured that most of us PCT hikers are pretty good about Leave No Trace.

After Crater Lake, there was the jagged peak of Mt. Thielson and eventually exposed lava fields beneath The Sisters (prominent snow-covered peaks near the town of Sisters).  Overall though, I pushed hard to get through this section as quickly as possible with a 38 mile day, a 35 mile day, and no days below 30 miles.  I wanted OUT of the mosquitoes and I desperately needed to wash my clothes.  How a single pair of socks can hold so much dirty is one of the trail mysteries that no one can seem to figure out, and my two pairs were typical.  Despite my marginally-effective efforts to clean them on the trail, there was enough dirt in them that the arches of my feet were abraded to the point of needing band-aids and Neosporin for several days.  On the bright side, I had good company between Crater Lake and Sisters.  For the first few days I hiked off-and-on with Gangsta Rap and Collin, and I spent the last day or two around Rocklocks and Mr. Fox.  The last night of hiking before I split to go into Sisters was particularly entertaining since Mr. Fox also has an engineering background.  Getting two engineers in the same room together (or campsite) can be dangerous in that we will never shut up - and I reckon that everyone in camp lost a solid hour that could've been used to catch up on sleep.  The main topic of conversation was devising outlandish ways to repel and/or kill mosquitoes (of course).  After examining some less practical ideas such as a portable tesla coil (how would you power it?) and miniature laser turrets (same problem plus many more) - we started to think about acoustic methods.  If you could acoustically force the mosquitoes at their resonant frequency - or the resonant frequency of their internal organs - that ought to freak them out enough to make them less interested in dinner (i.e., YOU).  Of course that raises the question of "Well, how does one go about finding the resonant frequency of a mosquito?".  After pondering the question, I laid out an experimental procedure that ought to work fairly well (to anyone associated with PETA or other animal rights groups, let me state that ethics does not apply to mosquitoes).  I will spare you the details of super glue, shaker tables, and laser doppler vibrometers.

The only other interesting features from the last section were trail legends and trail magic.  Right before the trail junction where many hikers go into Elk Lake Resort for a resupply, I ran into a blazing-fast Southbounder.  He was the first thru-hiking Southbounder that I had encountered and he seemed to be in a hurry to push 12 more miles for the day.  There was something familiar about him, as if I had seen a picture of him before, and he politely gave a detailed report of the trail conditions ahead in Washington.  Granted things are changing quickly, so I should be better off by the time I get there, but he mentioned that he only had heavy snow north of Snoqualmie Pass.  He had introduced himself as "Bink" and was carrying what looked to be the lightest/smallest pack I've seen yet.  Only later when I got to town did I confirm that Bink was in fact Scott Williamson, a PCT legend.  Scott Williamson holds the record for the fastest thru-hike at 66 days, and apparently he is trying to beat his previous record by making 65 days this year.  Good luck to him; I'll be content just to finish the trail happy and healthy.  As for trail magic, Lost and Found (a retired school teacher) was camped at Lava Lake and providing all sorts of delicious food to every hiker willing to make the half-mile detour.

From Lava Lake I had the option of catching a ride from the nearby McKenzie Pass or pushing on another 17 miles to Santiam Pass.  Although I was craving a shower and clean clothes (trail magic had satiated my appetite somewhat), I wanted to knock a few miles off the next leg of my trip.  I decided I would rather hike the extra 17 miles with a practically empty pack than have to carry any extra food out of Sisters.  Santiam Pass proved to be the better hitch since there was actually a shoulder where cars could pull over and it was heavily traveled.  I can't say that there's anything particularly interesting to report about Sisters, but it is a nice tourist town with everything (except canister fuel) that a thru-hiker could need.  I intended to get a ton of sleep here, but I got sucked into watching both volumes of Kill Bill on AMC last night.  Fortunately the coffee shop here has the best coffee I've seen on the trail yet.  Anyhow, it looks like the afternoon rain has passed and it is about time that I get back to the trail.  Next stop: Oregon-Washington border at Cascade Locks!

 
    

Nor. Cal.

After taking what felt like an eternity to make it through the Sierras, Northern California has flown by in a blink of an eye.  I am currently taking a much needed zero (my first for Northern California, although technically I still had to get up at 5 AM and hike 5 miles this morning) in Etna.  Assuming things go right, this should be my last stop in California before I cross the border into Oregon!  It's been a great adventure, but it is starting to wear on me that I've been hiking for exactly three months and am still in the same state as when I started.  Fortunately the PCT holds a considerably straighter course through Oregon and Washington, so those states shouldn't take nearly as long (obviously the smaller size of the states helps as well).

For anyone interested in pictures, the public link for my Northern California album on Facebook is:

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.874247803359.2343841.12820170&l=2beb67a363&type=1

So, back to where I left off.  I returned to the trail at Echo Lake after taking exactly a week off to get rid of a killer shin splint.  Although I've been cautious about pushing my speed too hard, it seems that the time off did the trick and the shin splint hasn't bothered me yet.  However, another week off the trail (in addition to five days off in Yosemite) put me behind "the herd" and I was eager to make up for lost time.  Eager though I was, "making up for lost time" would have to wait until after Sierra City.  Perhaps it was just a case of Post Traumatic Snow Disorder, but the five days between Echo Lake and Sierra City were easily my least-favorite.  As much time as I've spent biking near the Tahoe Basin and trail-running along its ridges, I was really looking forward to the section of the PCT that overlaps with the Tahoe Rim Trail (TRT).  Unfortunately the TRT in that area was nothing but one set of obstacles after another this year.  There were downed trees everywhere to climb over, hordes of mosquitoes, mud/water/swampland where the trail should be, misleading footprints, debris all over the trail, and last-but-not-least SNOW.  A rare case of foresight had convinced me to print off Halfmile's topo-maps for this section, so I had insurance against getting completely lost.  I thought putting GPS mapping software on my "smart" phone would also add insurance, but I killed the battery on my first day of playing with it.  Fortunately I haven't forgotten everything that I learned in the Scouts, and I managed to navigate the snowy sections without losing too much time.  The serious snow finally gave way after Donner Pass, giving me a clear shot into Sierra City.

 Sierra City is a fairly small town that traces its roots to the gold rush era, and it is also home to the hiker-famous Red Moose Inn.  The Red Moose Inn is one of the most hiker-friendly establishments on the trail; I'd categorize it more as a "trail angel" than as a "business".  Free lodging (pitch-your-own-tent), free laundry, free wi-fi, and All-You-Can-Eat ribs for less than $12!  I talked with one of the owners, and it turns out that she and her husband actually purchased the place because they wanted more storage space for their mining equipment.  While her history involved a career in either molecular or micro biology, she and her husband are now legitimate miners.  I never realized that people still mine personal claims (patches of property) - but apparently it's a big activity.  She even pulled out a contacts case filled with a few of her recent specimens to show me: specks, flakes, and even a few tiny nuggets of pure Californian gold!  She reckoned that she and her husband probably yield about $600 worth of gold from a solid day's work.  After this introduction to present-day mining, I picked the brain of a retired NFS employee at the general store about the area's mining history.  The gold in Placer County is found in pure specks intermingled with all the other rocky debris and sediment - as opposed to being locked inside ore that must be crushed and processed.  Although miners at first panned the river beds, it quickly came to everyone's attention that a lot of gold was loosely deposited on the mountaintops.  This in turn led to the boom of hydraulic mining in which companies would dam rivers, draw off water, and blast it at the tops of mountains to wash down the gold-containing sediments.  Unfortunatley blasting away the tops of mountains tends to clog rivers with silt, and population centers around Sacramento were not happy with this.  So the lucrative practice was quickly banned.  I also learned about the technical details of other mining/processing techniques such as cyanide leaching and mercury amalgamation.  I refer the interested reader to the wonders of Wikipedia for further information.

After a leisurely breakfast of pancakes and coffee, I departed the Red Moose Inn for Belden.  Although the section from Sierra City to Belden wasn't terribly interesting, the snow FINALLY thinned out.  After cutting a number of snow-ladden switchbacks on my first day, I had clear -albeit somewhat overgrown - trail for the rest of the section.  That alone made the trip awesome.  To make things even better, I was able to call the post office and have my packages picked up by a local trail angel since I was going to arrive on a Saturday (P.O. is closed all weekend in Belden).  Rather than spend two days waiting on the P.O., I was able to get picked up by the trail angel Mrs. Braatan, shower and do laundry, and hit the trail again by the evening.  It was tempting to stay at the extra building on her property that had been converted into a hiker hostel, but I wanted to catch-up with the herd. 

From Belden, I climbed into Lassen Volcanic National Park and passed my first big milestone in quite some time: the PCT Halfway Mile Marker!  Rather than celebrate like most hikers by hitching into Chester for icecream, I pushed the quickest 28 miles of my trip to make it to Drakesbad Guest Ranch in time for dinner.  I had heard about the incredible hiker hospitality and amazing food at Drakesbad from southbound hikers and knew that I had to stop.  Drakesbad is a laid-back resort in the middle of the national park that always has its accomodations booked-out months in advance.  They don't need extra money from the hikers and the park service doesn't require that they do anything to help us, yet they have taken it upon themselves to give thru-hikers a treat.  Upon arriving a Drakesbad, the Bavarian owner Ed thrusts a mesh bag with towel and soap at you and points you to the showers.  After showering, the staff take your dirty clothes in the mesh bag and toss them in the laundry free-of-charge while you can relax in clean "town clothes" that they provide.  Between the tables and chairs in the shade, the hammock, and the hot-springs pool, relaxing is pretty easy.  Then, to top everything off, the resort gives PCT hikers a killer discount on food.  $5 for a breakfast buffet, $7 for a lunch buffet, and $10 for a multi-course dinner that includes salad, fresh-baked bread, and dessert!  I pitty the hiker that bypasses the short side-trail to Drakesbad.

I had originally intended to just stay for dinner and head out early the next morning.  However, I am a sucker for all-you-can eat breakfasts with fresh coffee - so I decided to stay a few extra hours.  After a long breakfast the next morning, I got caught up talking with the other hikers at the hot springs pool and before I knew it, it was only an hour before lunch.  Among other stories, I listened to the Aussie girl named Jimbrick describe how she had hit something along the lines of 60 [no typo] kangaroos with her vehicle over the years!  60!!!  She went on to explain that she would usually club the crippled animals in the head with a tire-iron so that they could die a quick and somewhat less-painful death.  The tire-iron apparently became her tool of choice after she had a "failed" attempt in which it took her 5-10 minutes to dispatch a poor roo with a shovel.  To say that Australia will be an interesting place when I go there next year is an understatement.  So I said to hell with getting an early start and didn't get out of Drakesbad until after 2 PM.  It was a good break though, and it made the awaiting army of mosquitos somewhat more bearable. 

From Drakesbad the trail continued to improve and the only known hurdle that remained was Hat Creek Rim.  Hat Creek Rim is a 30 mile exposed and waterless strech between the small resort of Old Station and the next source of water.  Rather than push this section during the mid-day heat while carrying a large amount of water, I decided to take a few hours off at Old Station to hydrate and restock on calories.  Around 5 PM or so, loaded with a few liters of water plus a can of Red Bull a piece, Happy Whale (a political science graduate from Humboldt State) and I left with the intention of doing a night-hike.  However, months of P.T.F.O. (Google/Urban Dictionary if you must) at 9 PM and awaking at 6 AM has an effect on the biological clock that is hard to override.  Come 10 PM we were both sleepy, I was stubbing my toes on rocks, and Happy Whale had an adrenaline-spiking encounter with a rattlesnake.  So we laid out our sleeping bags to camp under the stars and set our alarms for 4 AM.  Surprisingly, we got up "on-time" and continued our hike to Burney.  After signing my name in the register at "Cache 22" (a water cache 22 miles into the dry stretch), I pulled ahead and pushed as fast as I could to make it to Burney before the post office closed.  With less than an hour to spare, I made it in time to pick up new shoes (my old ones both had tears down the sides such that you could see socks) and a new ground-cloth for my tent/cowboy camping (I am finally rocking a stylish 3' x 7.5' piece of Tyvek)!  There was nothing particulary attractive about Burney, so I pushed on and got back to the trail by early evening.

Before leaving Burney, I looked in the McDonalds mirror and instantly realized why I might've had a hard time hitching into town.  Despite being only a few days out from Drakesbad, I was as dirty as ever from all the dust.  I must've washed my hands 4-5 times while I was there and I still don't think I managed to get them clean!  Between the lack of sleep (hiking Hat Creek Rim) and my contacts being expired (I switched them before I left), my eyes were pretty bloodshot.  Last but not least, my hair was sticking out in every odd direction and my beard had surpassed the "slight fuzz" stage.  I definitely have the bum/thru-hiker look going for me now.  I also caught up with one of my friends from Tech, and it was refreshing to have someone ask questions deeper than the standard "So what do you do about bears?  How much does your pack weigh?  How do you get food? ...".  One of the questions she asked was, "What do you miss most about the outside world?"  After some deep thought, I realized that the one thing I personally long for in the wilderness is communication.  To clarify, I mean that I miss having constant and instantaneous communication with everyone.  I am one of those people who (almost) always responds to his emails/voicemails ASAP, and I took it for granted being able to talk with people in real time.  Out here, where I can only contact the rest of the world while I'm in town, there's generally a 4-6 day delay on all communications.  To compound the issue, both I and whomever I am talking to have usally forgotten where we left off the last time we spoke.  On the positive side, conversations have grown to be of higher quality; i.e., less superficial than the general "So where did you go running today?" sort of talks.

After Burney, the miles flew by as I was treated with clear trail and stunning views of Mt. Shasta.  I continued to pass hikers and it became clear that I had finally caught up with the herd.  At Castella, I road-walked a few miles to pick up a food package (my foresight is getting better, I mailed my box to the local store instead of the P.O. since I would be arriving on a weekend) and took a side-trail to get back to the PCT before nightfall.  It was tempted to go into Shasta with a few of the other hikers so that I could take the night off and grab a real breakfast, but I was still eager to make miles.  I had heard good things about Etna, and I wanted to push on.  From Castella, the trail climbed steeply through Castle Crags State Park and onwards through numerous wilderness areas.  I'll keep my description simple and just say that the section between Castella and Etna has probably been one of my highlights for the trip.  The trail was clear, the water sources were ample, and the scenery was spectacular.  This would definitely be one of the sections that I'd recommend for anyone looking to do just a section/weekend trip on the PCT.

I loved the section between Castella and Etna, but I could tell that the miles were starting to wear on me.  Although I had taken a few days with "only" 15 miles of hiking, I hadn't taken a good near-0 since Tahoe.  My hiker appetite returned with a vengance, and I suspect that I've already lost the weight that I managed to put back on during my time off (so I'll have to start carrying more food, and/or paying more for lavish meals in town).  Although I was still able to push big-mile days, my actual speed was starting to drop too.  So I have been looking forward to this zero for a few days now.  Fortunately Etna has an awesome hiker hostel here, and I've already taken care of the essential shower, laundry, and food shopping.  Word on the street is that I've got beatifully clear trail on through to Ashland, and that I won't hit any significant snow until after Crater Lake.  For now, it's off to the local brew pub for some burgers and beverages...