PCT Section A (northbound)

As some of the passes in Section B were still covered in ice and snow, I decided to hike Section A again this year. This time I hiked northbound, so I could spend some time getting to know a few of this year's thru-hikers.

I drove down to Lake Morena, after picking up Freebie, Tomato, and Raw in Portland. After a bit of car trouble on the I-5, we arrived late in the evening on the 23rd and cowboy camped under a tree to avoid the worst of the damp. The next morning, we got a ride down to the border near Campo with Greg "Strider" Hummel, who hiked the PCT in 1978. He told us some entertaining stories about how the trail had changed in the last 2 decades, then sent us on our way after a quick photo shoot at the monument.

Glad to be on the trail after such a long drive, I was fully enjoying every mile of the trail. Rolling, dusty hills with dry scrub and abandoned paraphernalia from the illegal immigrants provide the backdrop while the trail twists around and crosses the local dirt roads of Campo. After a few hours, the trail descends into Hauser Canyon, and at the bottom is a nice shady spot for lunch. Here we met I-Spy, Bootie (still Sarah at this point), and Pockets. I-Spy explained how he had just recently obtained his trail name, after using his monocular to track some illegals.

The hike up the north side of Hauser Canyon is not too steep, but is fairly long and I was fairly low on energy by the end. A few high energy snacks and the last of my water got me through the last stretch before camp, to complete a fun and picturesque 20 miles.

Back at the kick-off party (ADZPCTKO) I settled into a beer or two, and spent the evening chatting with old friends from last year (The Onion, Nitro, Heinz, Duckie, Nano, to name a few) and meeting too many new friends to name. Some people had already been hiking for a week, so we got updates on blisters, water, snow, and the usual trail gossip. Saturday was spent relaxing, eating, and checking out the vendors. Later that evening we got to see the latest installation from Squatch's quadrology, "Walked", as well as the 5-years-in-the-making, yet-to-be-completed first half of "Tell it on the Mountain."

Sunday morning we awoke to frost on the tent (or sleeping bag, in Tomato's case), then packed up ready for the trail. Duckie kindly offered to drive some of our gear to Mt. Laguna, so I gave him my extra food and only had to carry about 11 pounds for the 23 mile section. I opted to keep all of my gear with me in case of any trouble making it there, so technically it wasn't a true "slack-pack" but it certainly was nice. The weather was once again just right for hiking, clearskies but not too hot, and the hiking was brilliant. A few miles before the Mt. Laguna store, we realized it was going to be very tight to make it there before it closed at 5:00. Tomato was having one of his usual ice cream cravings, so he picked up the pace and left us behind. I continued along steadily, and at 4:51 I reached the road junction where it was a half mile walk to the store. I didn't really want anything, but figured an ice cream would be nice, so I switched into a fast walk. A hiker without a pack jogged by me and threw a taunt my way, so for some reason I went into a full sprint and raced him to the store. He beat me, but I still got there with one minute to spare. I had my ice cream while I caught my breath, and spent the next hour loitering on the Mt. Laguna steps as so many hikers have done before me.

As a treat to our thru-hiking friends, Duckie and I rented a cabin to share with Tomato and Freebie. The evening was nice, but we couldn't quite relax as we didn't know where Raw was. Raw had opted to do a complete slack-pack, so Duckie had all of his gear. It was slowly getting darker, colder, and windier. By 7:00 we took a drive around the area to try to find a sign of him, but had no luck. We left messages with campers nearby, and a note on the store message board, but at this point we were actually getting quite worried. Luckily, around 8:00, a truck showed up at our cabin and dropped a very exhausted Raw off. It turns out he had arrived in the area an hour before, but we hadn't been clear on where we were meeting. He eventually got the message from the campers that we were in a cabin, and found us. Now able to relax, we had some pints and helped Raw lighten up his pack a bit.

On Monday we hiked another clear, comfortable temperature day to just North of the Sunrise Trail Head. It was incredibly windy at this point, and finding a sheltered camp site was proving difficult. After getting water at the Sunrise Trail Head, we hiked a few miles further and then found a somewhat-sheltered gully. The wind battered the tent around all night, and I had trouble sleeping until I finally realized I had earplugs with me. This granted me a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, and I woke up refreshed and ready for more miles.

On Tuesday morning the wind had calmed down a little bit, but it was still a bit cool. Tomato, who didn't have the comfort of a tent, made a quick getaway. Freebie and I followed shortly after, and we all met up for lunch. Later on in the day we ran into Buddy Jesus at the Pioneer Mail campground, and he advised us to drink water. His actual words were, "If I can give you one piece of advise on the PCT, it's DRINK WATER." With this morsel to chew on, hilarity ensued for many more miles. We arrived at our destination for the day, Scissors Crossing, in mid afternoon. Not ready to settle down yet, Tomato and I caught a ride into Julian where we enjoyed milkshakes and hung out in the library to catch up on email. The proprieter of the local outfitter gave us a ride back to the trail at 5:30, where we met up with Freebie, I-Spy, Bootie, and pockets. Another windy tent set-up, then pass-the-pigs until we couldn't see any more.

Wednesday was going to be my longest day at 24 miles. It was also the crossing of the San Felipe hills, which, although not steep, is a long and dry stretch. The morning was cool, and we got an early start, so we made the Third Gate water cache for an early lunch siesta. A number of other hikers were here, including Buddy Jesus dropping down some more useful knowledge. We stayed for all we could take, then hiked the rest of the way to Barrel Springs where we were soothed to sleep by the resident frogs.

The last day of my hike was a short 10 miles to Warner Springs. The scenery is drastically different in this brief section, featuring oak forests, rolling meadows (replete with cows), and, arguably the most photographed spot on the trail, Eagle Rock. Tomato and I were both very low on food, so the draw of breakfast at the Warner Springs Country Club was very strong. Freebie proved to be a misnomer as he shared the last of his energy bars with us as we caught some extra photos at Eagle Rock, then we moseyed northwards.

Warner Springs Ranch deserves its own paragraph. A clean, well provisioned resort, they drop all pretense of standards and actually welcome hikers to soil their establishment. Deep discounts and friendly staff get you in the door, and 105 degree hot springs keep you there. We made full use of the amenities, spending countless hours floating around in the hot and slightly-less-hot pools. Although the hiking was incredible, Warner Springs was the icing on the cake for this trip.

Thursday night our gang crammed into my car and we went up to a Mexican Restaurant in the metropolis that is Sunrise Summit. Good food, good drink, and a well aged Christmas Tree mixed with new and old friends made for a fun evening. Another dip in the springs that night, and I started to feel the sadness as I knew all my friends would be resuming their hike northbound in the morning, and all I had to look forward to was a 1000 mile drive. Friday morning we took our time getting up, and had a leisurely breakfast at the golf club. I drove a few folks the 8 miles to the nearest grocery store for a resupply (the Warner Springs gas station isn't bad in a pinch) and then said my goodbyes. I was very jealous, and sad to part with everyone, but was also missing home.

The drive home was pretty uneventful. I drove to just south of Redding on the Friday evening, then got up early and drove the next 800 miles to make it to the ferry by 7:00pm. I just caught the 7, and was home by a little after 9:00 to an empty house. My fiancee went out for the evening as she wasn't expecting me to be home until after 11, whoops!

(Note: I had originally started to blog this hike from my Blackberry on the trail, but really didn't enjoy the experience. I've deleted those posts as they were rather incoherent.)

West Coast Trail

It started innocently enough. A group of us were sitting around a picnic table at the ADZPCTKO in Lake Morena, sharing hiking stories. I started describing my 2006 hike on the West Coast Trail, and the scenery and ruggedness got the attention of a few. Fortified by beer, 3 or 4 of my new friends expressed interest in a late summer WCT trek.

4 months later, there I was making a trip to the ferry to pick up Brian (Tomato) and Leila (Swifty). My fiancee, Rebecca, kindly offered to drive us all to the Bamfield trail head on Monday, Sept 1. We had a campsite reserved at the beautiful Pachena Bay Campground right by the trail head. After a dinner of campfire-roasted hot dogs and a quiet night by the beach, we said goodbye to Rebecca and Shadow and proceeded to the Parks Canada office for our orientation.

All hikers on the WCT are required to take the 1.5 hour orientation, which is offered 4 times daily. We diligently watched the PowerPoint presentation, grabbed our permits, and hit the trail at 10:45. When starting at the North end of the trail, the terrain is quite easy and the miles go by quickly. Our first stop on the way to Tsocowis (km17) was at the Pachena Lighthouse. The Lighthouse grounds are open for exploration, and panoramic views give a preview of the scenery to come. The guest book entries at the Lighthouse provided much hilarity, and started some running gags that lasted the duration of our trip. You really had to be there to appreciate them.

After a bit more inland hiking, we reach Michigan Creek and the beginning of beach walking. A sealion haulout rock provides ample entertainment for a lunch stop, and we're blown away by the size of these massive creatures. Swifty presented us with a list of wildlife she expects to see on the trail, and the first one is crossed off. Moving on, we explore the shipwrecks of the Michigan and Uzbekistan, as well as some nice rock shelves and tidal pools. The low tide enabled shelf-walking, often referred to as a hiker superhighway. Because we were making such good time, we walked right by our destination and didn't realize our mistake until we reached the impassible Valencia Bluffs. After my cohorts teased their "experienced" route planner, we realized the fortune of our mistake and explored some beautiful waterfalls and rock formations. A short backtrack took us back to Tsocowis and a soft, sandy campsite. The evening presented a stunning sunset and plenty of wood for a fire.

The next morning began with some forest walking, which on the WCT inevitably means mud. Lots of mud. Fortunately, there had been no rain for a couple of days, so the mud wasn't as bad as it can be. The three of us had very light packs, trail runners, and hiking poles, so we were able to hop over and navigate our way through the mud with little effort. Heavily-laden hikers coming the other way took a look at our relatively clean feet and assured us that the mud got much worse. We were offered advice such as "You haven't seen anything yet" and "Hope you brought your gators.. or a life jacket!". While well-meaning, their comments became more fodder for our trail banter, and the theme of inflatable flotation-device gators began.

Tomato and Swifty have extensive hiking resumes, both having done successful Pacific Crest Trail thru-hikes, among many other accomplishments. I had warned them that it was a different breed of hiker on the WCT, but I don't think I could have prepared them for the absurdity we witnessed. 80 lb. packs were commonplace, and we even saw several people with a pack on their front as well as the back. Although we all started heavy in our earlier hiking days, it was unbelievable that people would attempt a trail as rugged as the WCT without any research at all. "At least they're out there" we agreed, and kept our observations to ourselves.

I digress - back to the trail. At Trestle Creek we're rewarded with more beach walking, taking us to our first cable car crossing at Klanawa River. A group of fellows heading South demonstrated how to help each other across, and waited around to give us a hand. Having people on the cable car landing to pull the car across makes it much easier than pulling yourself when you're in the car. The pulleys were also in much better shape than my 2006 trip, so the crossing was fast and fun. A few more inland miles, along with some impressive ladders, took us to Tsusiat Falls for lunch. The tides and storms change this beach annually, and what in 2006 was a large freshwater pool at the base of the falls was now a tidal bay with steep banks. Swifty and I braved the cold water for a quick shower under the falls, while Tomato settled for the mist bath available nearby. The waterfall is astounding to watch, but the strutting alpha-males offered scenery we didn't come to see, so we packed up and headed back up the ladders to the trail.

Moving on through more inland mud, our next stop is to wait for the ferry at Nitnat Narrows. We chat with some fellow hikers here for half an hour until the ferry comes for the short trip across the narrows. On the South side we're offered beer and seafood, but decide to keep trekking. There is quite a crowd there, and we agree we'd rather be hiking. Right after the ferry dock is a swampy area, flooded several years ago by a beaver dam. The boardwalk is in rough shape, but we motor on through to the beach access at Cheewhat River. Some fun beachcombing with a few inland detours around surge channels brings us to Cribs Creek, our campsite for night two.

Cribs Creek is a large, picturesque beach and a popular camping spot. There's probably 40 people already camping there when we arrive, so we cross to the south side of the river which is currently unoccupied. After finding a small spot between the logs in which to cram our three tarptents, we count another 20-30 hikers come from both directions. Every available spot near us is occupied, but once the sun goes down a bit it doesn't feel so crowded. For some reason nobody decides to camp on the gently sloping beach at the far North end, where I camped in '06. Wood is scarce, but we scrounge up enough for a comfortable fire and enjoy an evening of stargazing and conversation. I suggested it would have been nice to have grabbed a few beers from the Nitnat ferry dock, but, alas, hindsight is 20/20.

Day three brings us an overcast morning, but a feature-filled day of hiking is ahead of us. After a beautiful beach walk to Carmanah Point, we head up the steps to explore Carmanah Lighthouse. A few photos and sights keep our interest, but the thought of breakfast at Chez Moniques keeps the visit brief. Soon we're heading down the ladder to the makeshift "restaurant" and its charming hostess, Monique. We all opt for the breakfast plate of eggs, potatoes, bacon (for some) and toast. Fresh cowboy coffee is served while we occupy a table with the best view for miles around. While we're waiting for our breakfasts, (actually second breakfasts, Tomato pointed out) Swifty notices an uninvited guest behind the restaurant. A black bear, muching on the salad bar, has decided to join us. I let one of the cooks know, and he chases it away. Another wildlife sighting is crossed off the rather demanding list given to me by Swifty.

After breakfast, a fantastic beach walk lies ahead. Our second cable car crossing, over Carmanah Creek, goes smoothly and leads us to Bonilla Point. Here we're treated to a large pod of Grey Whales surfacing and spouting not far from shore. We gawk for a while, then eventually have to keep moving. One more off the list. The next obstacle is Walbran Creek, which we're told isn't in flood so is crossable. When we arrive, it looks a bit higher than we feel like crossing so we take a side trail up to the cable car. From here, the trail moves inland to avoid the Adrenaline Creek surge channel, site of numerous injuries and evacuations in previous years. A mix of mud and slippery boardwalks is our price for the previous fun on the beach. When we get to Cullite Creek, we decide to check out the camping area. A short side trail heads down to Cullite Cove, with a few small tent spots crammed into the trees. There was nowhere we could set up three tarptents, and after discussing the option of rigging up a tarp and sleeping out, we opted to get back on the trail and stick to the original plan of Camper Creek.



And we were so glad we did. Camper Creek, while fairly busy, offered a less crowded option of camping on the peninsula reached by a quick river crossing. Tides can be an issue here, so we chose a high spot carefully and proceeded to set up. I had been having trouble getting a good pitch on my new Contrail, so Tomato helped me achieve my first perfect pitch. A small breeze helped us air out our damp gear, and we settled in for another fun night around the campfire. Wood was once again scarce, but Tomato's fire building skills outshone even his tent setup skills. Swifty shared some marshmallows procured at Chez Monique's, and I used the time to quiz my hiking friends about long distance hiking. I learned a lot from them this trip, and the reality of a PCT thru-hike in 2010 started to sink in.

We arose early on our fourth day, eager to explore Owen Point at low tide. A long beach shelf, followed by tidal caves, boulders, and even bigger boulders were the highlights of this day. I think anyone hiking the WCT owes it to themselves to consider this optional, difficult route as part of their itinerary. It is definitely the most rugged and dangerous part of the trail, but offers West Coast scenery at its finest. Much to Swifty's delight we saw a sea otter and a seal, and the list was quite complete. Tomato, an accomplished rock climber, bounced across the boulders and disappeared from sight. Swifty had a bit more trouble with the large boulders, but admirably kept a strong pace and we arrived at Thrasher Cove at lunch time. Our original itinerary had us spending the night at Thrasher, but the campsite is purely functional so we chose to keep going to the end.

Heading inland at Thrasher, the only option, reveals 5km of ladders and hill climbs. A straight line on the map, it's actually a considerable amount of switchbacks and altitude gains. The hiking is fairly easy though, and we get to the ferry with plenty of time. Some overloaded hikers we passed were going to have to rush for the last crossing at 4:30, as the camping options at the ferry beach are very limited. Once over Gordon River we take a short bus ride into Port Renfrew for a hot meal and a cold beer, and I call a surprised Rebecca requesting an early ride home. She's unable to make it, but luckily my mum steps up to the plate and zips out from Sooke to drive us home.

I'm really glad my new friends were able to join me on this trail, and hope they both take back the fondest of memories (and forget the bad ones). We've already begun discussing where we can hike next year, and I know we'll follow through and get together again.

Success!

I got back yesterday evening from my two-day hike of the Juan de Fuca Marine Trail. I managed to hike the entire length in the short amount of time I had, and hiking solo was an interesting adventure.

I started out at the China Beach trailhead at 7:30 am on Saturday. The weather was cloudy but warm and dry, and the trail was in reasonably good shape. Signs warned of the trail closure due to the bridge out at Ivanhoe Creek, but I knew froma previous visit in March that there was a bypass trail. I actually didn't even need the bypass trail, as the water levels were low enough that a log over the creekbed proved enough. By 9:30 I was at Bear Beach where I stopped for second breakfast. I didn't see anybody at Mystic Beach, and only 2 small groups at Bear. One couple at Bear were turning around and heading home due to their 70lb packs. Ouch!

Not the most technically difficult, but definitely the most arduous section of the trail is between Bear Beach and Chin Beach. Roughly 10km of ups and downs take a toll on your legs, and I was feeling pretty worn out by the time I got to Chin. I stopped and had some lunch, but as it was only 1:30 I decided to press on to Sombrio Beach at km 27. I passed a few hikers from Chin on their way to Sombrio, but otherwise the trail was deserted. Being by myself in bear country, I was a little bit nervous, and did a lot of whistling and peering around corners. My hiking poles did double duty as noisemakers, clacking against rocks, tree trunks, and each other.

When I got to Sombrio I was still in pretty good shape, but my legs were ready to give out. I staggared a few more yards down the beach and plopped on the first level spot I came to. Shortly thereafter, one of the fellows from the site next to me came over to say hi, and invite me back to their site. After I relaxed for a while, I joined Stewart and his friends for an evening of wine, fresh mussels, and conversation. Stewart gave me his number so we could meet up to brew some beer, but I appear to have lost his card. If anyone sees it, let me know! The hospitality of this group was amazing, and I went to sleep well past hiker midnight (10:30) and zonked out immediately.

Sunday morning I woke up feeling pretty good, and not too stiff from my previous day's exertion. I lay in bed for a while, as I "only" had 20km of comparatively easy terrain to make today. As long as I was at Botanical Beach by 5:00, when Rebecca would meet me, I'd be fine. I packed up said goodbye to my new friends, and was on the trail around 9:00. Sombrio River was quite low, so I opted to wade through it rather than trek up to the suspension bridge. The sun was shining, so I wasn't too worried about wet feet. After a bit more beach walking, my spidey-sense was tingling. In a field of grey boulders, I saw one furry black boulder that looked out of place. Sure enough, a small bear was eating something, probably a dead seal. Luckily, the tide was out, so I was able to give him a wide berth. I had a chat with him on the way past, and we came to an understanding. I wouldn't eat his dead seal, and he wouldn't eat me. At one point I looked up and there was a bald eagle, a sea otter, and the bear all within my line of sight. I tried to take a picture of all three, but couldn't get the angle right. Rather than dwell on this, I figured it would be prudent to move past the bear and get on with my day.

The rest of the day proved to be quite uneventful. I kept up a good pace, with just a brief stop at Pyzant Creek for water. At around 2:30 I was nearing Botanical Beach, so I stopped at one of my favorite resting areas at Tom Baird Creek. I made myself a big lunch, and stretched out in the sun with my book for a couple of hours. At 4:30, I packed up and headed to Botanical to meet Rebecca and Shadow. I could tell they both wanted to go down to the beach, so I added another couple of miles to my trek and walked down to Botany Bay with them. After that, we went for dinner in Port Renfrew, then made our way home.

I'm glad I was able to meet my two goals: hiking alone, and completing the trail in two days. As for the former, hiking solo has its benefits, I got to get lost in my own thoughts, and not worry about anyone else's pace or fitness level. I did, however, find I was quite jumpy and nervous about bears, which I'm normally not around other people. As for the timeline, I don't know if I'd want to hike that distance regularly, but it was good to know my body is capeable of it, and I'm proud of my accomplishment. I still enjoyed all the scenery and solitude of the wilderness, but spent it hiking rather than sitting at a campsite. What's next.. maybe the West Coast Trail in three days? We'll see :)

Pacific Crest Trail section hike (Warner to Morena Southbound)

For my first backpacking adventure of 2008, I joined my friend Paul (Potential 178) on a section hike of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT). For those not familiar with the PCT, it runs through the Western states, from Campo on the Mexican border to Manning Park in Canada. More information can be found on the Pacific Crest Trail Association web site.

Paul and I both were able to lower our base pack weights to well under 10 pounds, and were very excited about testing out our new found buoyancy. On April 17 I took a ferry to Vancouver, enjoyed dinner with a friend, then made my way to Paul's apartment. After a bit of last minute gear organizing and food packing, we had a short sleep before heading to the airport the next morning.

Not wanting to risk misdirected baggage (you wouldn't believe how often this happens to me) we opted to pay extra for a direct flight to San Diego. We arrived midday and proceeded to the tin-man statue to wait for two other hikers, and a ride from Pea "Girlscout" Hicks (more on trail names in a future post). After stopping for tacos, Girlscout took us back to his place where he generously has made space and amenities available to hikers. The plan was for Girlscout to drive some people to Campo in the morning, then come back and take Paul and I to Warner Springs in the afternoon. Unfortunately, we had a severe case of trail fever and couldn't wait, so we called up a cab. A very expensive cab. The driver and his co-pilot had no idea where they were going, and ended up going 20 miles out of the way. By this time it was nearly midnight, we were hungry and grumpy, and didn't argue the price. Much to Paul's dismay, I even gave them a small tip.

The next hiccup was on checking in to Warner Springs Ranch. The lady at the counter insisted that as it was after midnight on a Thursday, she had to charge us weekend rates. This obviously made no sense, but we didn't have much choice so she left a note to the manager to discuss it with us in the morning. Sure enough, as we're walking across the road to find breakfast, Maureen, the manager, comes running out to apologize for the error. Our spirits are lifted, and we enjoy a great breakfast at the golf course club house. Overall, I'm very impressed with Warner Springs, all of the staff went out of their way to make sure we enjoyed our stay, even the night-shift security guard was chatty and curious about our hike. Next time I definitely want to stay longer to enjoy all the serves the ranch has to offer.

Okay, so we're finally on the trail! Our destination for the day was a short 9 miles to Barrel Springs. Maureen had described a horse trail we could use to get to the PCT and avoid some road walking, which was a nice start to the day. Once on the PCT we followed Cañada Verde Creek, gracefully lined with Oak trees, until emerging into chapparel covered hills and ranges. One of the famous landmarks on the PCT is Eagle Rock, an appropriately named mass of rocks that no hiker wielding a camera will ever bypass. Paul commented that it didn't look remarkably like an Eagle, but then we proceeded to the correct side and were properly impressed. We stopped here for a snack and plenty of photos. The land here is quite dry, but there are some seasonal creeks. We stop off at San Ysidro Creek to dip our feet, then hike the last few miles to Barrel Springs.

Setting up camp at Barrel Springs, we meet a few thru-hikers, including the infamous Warner Springs Monty. Monty is a character who helps maintain the water pipe at Barrel, among many other duties. He also is very involved in the annual kickoff party, ADZPCTKO (report to follow), and took the opportunity to drum up our interest in helping to prepare food at the kickoff. Our night at Barrel was otherwise uneventful, and we were serenaded to sleep by a chorus of frogs, crickets, and owls. And crazy drunk redneck women screaming at their cars at 3:00am. In the morning, I briefly chatted with a couple of turkey hunters heading up into the woods to catch something to put in their sandwiches.

From Barrel Springs we proceeded up into the hills, past Billy Goat's Cave, (Billy Goat is a well-known hiker who, rumour has it, was born in this cave. Or maybe he just took shelter here on a particularly hot day. Trail gossip is great.) The trail in this area wasn't overly spectacular, but still nice to be out and about. Small flowers attracted butterflies, and small prickly vegetation attracted my buttocks. Water promises to be scarce, so we tanked up with 3 litres of Barrel's finest. Midday we arrived at the Third Gate Water Cache, an oasis of bottled water for thirsty hikers. As the day wasn't too hot, and we still had a bit of water from Barrel, we just took a splash each. The cache is resupplied by trail angels (and hikers with spare time) via a 1 mile spur trail down to the road. We contemplated camping here and playing Gungadin, but it was still early in the day so instead opted for more miles. The databook promised a "sandy wash" ahead, so we saddled up and hit the trail again. The winds started to pick up, and by the time we got to the sandy wash, it was evident we'd need to find a sheltered spot to set up camp. The wash had a lot of flat ground to choose from, so we spent half an hour walking around, eventually settling on nice spots protected by shrubberies. The wind brought cooler evening temperatures, so it was early to bed to read, justifying the extra weight of the book I brought along (The Salmon of Doubt by Douglas Adams).

The next landmark on the trail was Scissors Crossing, where the trail intersects a couple of highways. We must have been hungry when we got to the road crossing, as we took a wrong turn and headed a mile up the highway in the wrong direction. After a bit of frustration, we narrowly avoided fisticuffs by finding the correct trail 10 feet to the right of where we turned left. Shortly after the road crossing we found a small patch of shade we shared with a couple of thru-hikers and prepared some lunch. Spirits lifted, we walked another mile to the next water cache. The Scissors water cache is right by the road, so we felt a little better about filling up our supply as nobody had to hike the water in. A gaggle of section and thru hikers was gathered in the limited shade, and we enjoyed a few trail stories and a brief rest. A mile of flat, treeless land lead us to the looming hills ahead. We were told there wasn't too many flat spots after we crested the first batch of hills, so we agreed to look for a camp spot once we had made a few miles into the hills. We passed quite a few nice spots, but really weren't ready to make camp, so kept on hiking until just before the crest. A little worried that we had passed all the good spots, we agreed to stop at the next reasonable area. It turned out to be a very nice spot with a view of the valley below, and the trail from the previous day's hiking back into the hills.

Although we each had a bit of trail damage to our feet, we woke up in otherwise good spirits and health, eager for a solid day of hiking. Plenty of ups and downs today, punctuated by flowering cactus, panoramic views, and wind. Our first rest was at the Rodriguez Spur fire tank, the biggest bucket of water around. Just below the fire tank was a spigot where we could fill up with water and rest in the shade. We heard a voice from up at the tank, and upon investigation met Eric, one of the only two people to yo-yo (hike the trail both directions in one year) the PCT. A humble and friendly chap, Eric remembered Potential from the trail last year and was happy to answer our gear-related questions I'm sure he'd been asked countless times before. With a base pack weight of under 5 pounds, Eric's spartan gear list made our previously ultralight packs fall into the shameful category of just plain lightweight. From the fire tank, we almost took another wrong turn up the spur road, but quickly realized there were no footprints or other clues of the trail. A gate with a PCT sticker on it revealed the correct path, and we quickly moved on. Just around the corner we spotted a hiker perched in a field of yellow flowers who was excited to hear that he was just a few hundred feet from the fire tank. Shortly thereafter we started up a steep hill climb where we ran into Ridgewalker and Lynn, the other hikers who shared Girlscout's ride from the airport with us. Once reaching the summit, we hunkered down in a nice shady spot for a long lunch and rest. Rejuvenated, we decided to push on to the Sunrise Trailhead, which offered clean outhouses with a nice.. umm "backdraft." From Sunrise we kept on going, eventually hitting Kwaaymii Point, a fantastic stretch of abandoned road perched on the edge of a massive cliff face. Popular for hang gliding, the rock-strewn ledge had several memorials to fallen hang gliding enthusiasts. From Kwaaymii, we proceeded to the Pioneer Mail trailhead, a picnic area with outhouses and a water tank. The water tank was polluted with dead rats, but luckily a local Samaritan had provided jugs of fresh water for the hikers, which we shared with the 15 or so others camped in the picnic area. Dusk arrived quickly, so we tucked into bed shortly after Paul tried to warn some night-hikers about the dangerous water. They stormed past, upset that Paul's flashlight was ruining their night vision.

After a cold night at Pioneer Mail, we quickly packed up camp in eager anticipation of our first town stop at Mt. Laguna. The miles flew by, and before we knew it we could see the radar station that marked the outskirts of Mt. Laguna. A little bit of road walking, and the glowing beacon of the Mt. Laguna Lodge general store. The store is a hiker's paradise, offering such delicacies as microwave burritos, ice cream sandwiches, beer, and plenty of packaged food for a resupply. The brothers who run it are helpful and very hiker friendly, always happy to sit on the deck and hear some trail news. The deck at Laguna is a part of hiker lore, and almost every hiker has a story that starts with "so we were sitting on the deck at Laguna..." We booked a cabin for the night, loaded up on burritos, and plunked down for about 4 hours on the deck with some other hikers. Russ, a former gold miner, regaled us with tales of stripping the land bare. Pheeew, after a few hours of unsuccessful hitchhiking in the sun, demonstrated gravity's awesome power by falling off the deck and breaking her ankle in two places. (I'm told she's had it splinted and is resuming her thru-hike. Look forward to her book!). This prompted a visit from the local emergency services crew, who were very helpful and professional. Later on, a group of hikers showed up who will end up playing a major roll in my enjoyment of the kickoff, and hopefully will be hiking with me on the West Coast Trail this Fall. The evening was punctuated with some horrible television and good beer in our cabin.

Although we enjoyed our 20 miler the previous day, we were in no rush to get to the end of our hike, so we broke up the trip to Morena by stopping at Cibbets Flat campground. Cibbets was a picturesque spot by a creek, with clean outhouses and private camp spots. As it is about half a mile off the trail, we didn't see any other hikers for the night. In the morning, we had our last on-trail breakfast and began the final leg of our journey.

On the way to Lake Morena and the kickoff, we stopped at Boulder Oaks campground where some trail angels were handing out Gatorade and sandwiches. We were fine for supplies, but couldn't pass up an ice cold drink. The last of our food was consumed under the shade of an oak tree, then the lure of the Lake Morena Malt Shop's famous fries beckoned us onwards. The miles went quickly, interrupted only by the occasional rattlesnake. When we arrived at Lake Morena, there must have already been 100 tents set up for the kickoff party, even though it didn't begin until the next day. We found our assigned spots and set up camp, then headed up to the store. To our bitter disappointment, the shopkeep informed us that he wasn't going to open up the deli for another month, thereby denying over 500 ADZ attendees and countless more hikers the chance of a cold milkshake or tasty french fries. The store had a pathetic selection of food, mostly just potato chips and beef jerky. Fortunately, it had beer and ice cream sandwiches, so all was not lost. Fortified with San Diego's Red Trolley Ale, we headed back to the campground to settle in for 4 days of fun at the ADZPCTKO, which I will review in a few days.

Trip Report: Yoho National Park

Our search for the sun was successful! On Wednesday morning, Ian and I got on the 9:00am ferry and headed towards the mountains. Because this was a last-minute adventure, we decided to go into familiar territory and headed for Yoho National Park. After a motel stop in Revelstoke, we proceeded early on Thursday morning to the Yoho Information Centre to purchase our park permit and wilderness passes. We asked about some of the backcountry hiking which allowed for "random camping" (no assigned campsites) but were advised that the best hiking was in the Yoho Valley. We chose an itinerary based on this advice, and opted for 3 nights: one night each at Twin Falls, Little Yoho River, and Yoho Lake.

Plans were settled, and we eagerly set off for the short drive up Yoho Valley Road towards Takakkaw Falls. Around 11:00 am, we quickly grabbed our packs and headed up the Yoho River trail. It only took about 5 minutes to leave the tourist-filled parking lot behind, and soon we were in the relative solitude of the Yoho Valley.

The hike to Twin Falls is about 8km on well-marked trails. Although this is some of the most accessible, beautiful hiking around, we only saw a couple of day hikers and even fewer backpackers. After an hour, roughly halfway along the Yoho River trail, we passed Laughing Falls which I assume got its name from when I tripped over a root and Ian laughed at me. Another hour later and we were at the Twin Falls campground. No, we didn't both trip over here: this one is actually named for the waterfall that divides into two distinct plumes falling 180 meters (591 feet). We set up camp and had lunch, then put on the daypack and headed up towards the Yoho Glacier.

The trail up to the Glacier begins in a pine forest, but soon opens on an expansive and barren valley and the Yoho River. Panoramic views of the Waputik Icefield, Mt Balfour, Mt Gordon, and Yoho Peak prevail. Hiking up the rock strewn pathway, the trail gets steeper and then scrambled up some rocks beside multiple waterfalls. We explored the waterfalls for a while, scrambling about on the rocks and looking for a safe place to safely cross a small branch of the river to continue on the trail. As it was getting late in the afternoon, the river was fairly wide, and we didn't feel comfortable with jumping the distance and risking a twisted ankle. After a bit more exploring, we started back towards camp. A father and son went by, in a rush to avoid what they predicted was an impending storm. They mentioned that it was just a "hop" across the river, but we still opted for safety and continued back to camp. The "storm" never materialized, so we spent the rest of the evening relaxing by the river with a book and plenty to eat.

Day two was to take us to the Little Yoho campsite. Heading out of camp, the trail takes you to the base of Twin Falls for some fantastic views, then punishes you for them by heading straight up to the top of the Falls. Well, not quite straight -- there's plenty of switchbacks. Once at the top of the Falls we stopped for lunch and took many photographs of the valley down below. Thankfully, the ruggedness of this trail keeps the majority of tourists away, so the steep cliffs are accessible without the usual blight of guard rails, fences, and warning signs. Common sense keeps you at a reasonable distance, while allowing for an unimpeded view for hundreds of miles.

Once we crossed over the top of Twin Falls, the trail continued to climb for a bit to the top of Whaleback (7250 ft.) A few more photos, and we headed down the much-steeper switchbacks towards the Little Yoho River. We both agreed that coming up from this direction would have been much harder. About 7km from where we started, we arrived at a junction and headed up the Little Yoho River trail. This 5km trail went through a mostly forested area with beautiful meadows and stream crossings until arriving at the Little Yoho campground. We set up camp and had lunch, then freshened up in the ice-cold river.

I was still full of energy at this point, so I decided to head up the 4km trail to Kiwetinok Pass. Ian was feeling his age and opted to stay at camp and guard the coffee. I grabbed some water and a snack then headed up the trail. After about 10 minutes I arrived at an unmarked 3-way junction. David, a gentleman we had met at the previous campsite, had been exploring the area and said the right-hand fork looked like the one to the pass, so off I went. A couple of easy river crossings were required, then playtime was over. The trail went straight up, and then got steeper. I was in full spirits, and practically jogged up the next few kilometers. After one false summit, I crested a second ridge and was rewarded with a small, deep-blue lake of stunning clarity. I took a short break and splashed about in the frigid water, then sprinted up the final section of trail to the top of the pass. Absolutely stunning views in all directions took my breath away, and I cursed myself for forgetting my camera. Luckily David came to the rescue and sent me some great photos, including the one at the top of this paragraph. He also advised me that the

I eventually tore myself away from the top of the world, and bounced down the trail past a few other hikers, practically beaming with contentment. When I got back to camp, I tried not to gush too much about the trail to Ian as I knew he had a hard time saying no to the hike. He made the right choice though, and didn't take a risk that could have made the rest of the trip less enjoyable.

Saturday morning, we awoke to another clear day, and started the trek towards Yoho Lake. After a few kilometers in the forest, we reached the junction to the Iceline Trail. This popular trail follows a ridge just below the Emerald Glacier, and winds through a boulder-strewn landscape replete with small lakes, ice patches, and creeks. Views of Takakkaw Falls and the Daly Glacier proved irresistible to our cameras. We passed dozens of dayhikers equally dazzled by the sights, exhausted after their climb from the valley below. After about 6km on the Iceline Trail, we turned back into the trees toward Yoho Lake.

Emerging into the campground and picnic area at Yoho Lake was a little surreal. A very popular dayhiking spot, the lake front was filled with screaming children, dogs, and guided tour groups. I knew they had all made a long, steep hike to get there, so I didn't begrudge them for intruding on my solitude. We scouted out the available campsites, and found one by the lake with a couple just packing up ready to leave. Rather than hover over them, we retreated back to the main beach area to relax and put our feet up. When the couple still hadn't left after an hour, we settled for a spot in the trees. The lakefront spot probably was probably too close to the water anyway.

After setting up camp, we started to head towards Yoho Pass and Emerald Lake. Once over the pass it was 4km straight down to Emerald Lake, and we were a bit hesitant to hike that far down and end our day with a long uphill hike. I felt suddenly very clammy and sweaty, and really wanted to go back to Yoho Lake for a swim. We abandoned our hike and headed back to the campsite, which was now deserted. I took the opportunity to don the special swimsuit given to me at birth, and jumped in the glacier-fed lake. The water was a bit warmer than the rivers at the other campsites, and I managed to cleanse myself without risking hypothermia.

After my swim, we noticed black thunderheads racing towards us over Wapta Mountain. The air thickened, then shook with thunder. We quickly strung up our small siltarp and had dinner under the shelter while the heavens opened up for an hour-long deluge. Goretex laden campers hurried in from their various explorations and sought the shelter of their tents. It seems we were the only ones who have discovered the 4 oz. siltarp. I wonder if my sudden need to abandon our hike was my body's spidey-sense tingling and detecting the coming storm long before my eyes did? Maybe I'll get a job as a meteorologist. Or a superhero. Look, up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's a Weatherman!

I digress. The storm passed and everyone emerged from the nylon cocoons. The rest of the evening was spent reading, relaxing, and chatting with our new friends Barry and oh-I'm-so-bad-with-names. If you're reading this, please forgive my ignorance, you know what we all smoke out here in BC. And mom, I know you read my blog, I'm just kidding. (Edit: Barry and Jennifer sent me an email too!)

Sunday morning we awoke early and quickly packed up camp. It was a short 4km hike back to the car, and we knew we could make the 9:00pm ferry if we didn't dawdle. Just as we put our packs on it started to drizzle. Hiking in the rain is fine, but I'm glad we didn't have to pack up in it. 45 minutes later we were in the car, and headed into Field to have breakfast at the Truffle Pigs Cafe. With casual service, excellent coffee, and a small but tasty menu, Truffle Pigs is an adventure in itself. Allow for an hour or so as it's usually busy, but there's plenty of knickknacks and distractions to pass the time.

The drive home was long and uneventful, an although we got to the ferry terminal at 6:45, there was a two-sailing wait so we were on the 9:00 sailing anyway. The buffet made the crossing bearable, and shortly before midnight I was home to a warm shower and soft bed.