Pacific Crest Trail, Round 1d
6-30
Destination: Home
Road miles: 3 (or so they said)
Trip miles: 37
It is indeed a long night. My body doesn't feel like it's recovered well from yesterday. I want to get going soon to maximize my chances of getting a ride or passing into cell range. I think it's going to be a very long day.
One of the CalTrans workers camped nearby tells me I can go to Bartle, 3 miles west. My feet still hurt, so I hope he's right. It's a very long and fairly painful 3 miles, but I still manage to summon up the willpower to stop and look at plants. The Bartle Cafe is closed, but the phones are outside. I still have no cell service, so I call Jose collect. Those things used to be easier. He's understanding, but it might be another day before he can get up here. I think I can manage, as I still have plenty of food and maybe a liter of water. I think I'm going to be bored, though.
I take a short nap, move to the shade and, well, get bored. So I decide to try thumbing for a ride because, well, I have time and I may as well be doing something. This proves to be an exercise in futility--the road is not heavily traveled, fully half the traffic seems to be semi trucks, everyone's driving really fast, and no one's apparently inclined to pick up backpackers. I really don't know how through-hikers stand it. Another call to Jose is only slightly more promising than the first one--he's trying to find someone in the area--taxi, shuttle, USFS, whatever--to come get me. After more unproductive hitching, I notice the driver of a pickup truck that pulled in here a couple of hours ago looks like he might be fixing to leave, so I inquire. It turns out he is indeed headed to Bruney and does indeed have room for me and my gear and doesn't have a problem giving me a lift! Yee-haw! he's a nice old guy. During my ride, I learn that he's a life-long rancher who grew up in the area and whose grandfather was one of the first settlers of the small valley through which the highway runs between Bartle and Burney. When we arrive back at my car, I offer to give him something for gas, but he declines. I thank him and we go our separate ways.
Now in cell phone range, I touch bases with Jose and Sarah and am on my way. I'm surprised how smoky it is heading up I-5. It seems particularly bad in Medford. The haze continues all the way home.
In every way that matters, I pretty much consider my bailing to have been a strategic withdrawal. If I'd been on a through-hike, it would have been different. Although discretion is often the better part of valor, I'll really only have one shot at a through-hike. As such, as they say in the military, failure will not be an option, so I'll have to improvise and figure out how to push on through adversity and manage the risks. When I set out on this particular hike, I aimed to explore several facets of hiking: how well my gear might be up to the task of long hikes, focusing on what won't work and what might need to be replaced; how much I can take, particularly how much more work I'll need to do on myself and how my body responds to the trail; making myself acquainted with what the trail can throw at me; and just looking at plants and wildlife. I feel like I've accomplished all of that. After I returned home, I weighed my pack and found that, minus water and 2 days' worth of food, it weighed 35 pounds. That's not bad from a traditional backpacking standpoint, but by modern long-distance backpacking standards, that's still far too heavy. My food weighed 12 pounds, which was about right. I want to go over Mt. Hood in September after implementing new gear approaches and I figure things should go better.