15.61 miles - Total to date - 636.4 miles
Ascent - 1856’ , Descent - 3821’ - Tent site at mile (1703.9) to Callahans (1719.5)
Sticking to my routine, I was up and on the trail by 5:30 am. I quietly stowed my gear, hoping not to wake Hun. The smoke was still in the air, but not as thick as some days. The trail gained 1000’ in the first two miles before leveling off and starting the downhill run to I-5. The air was cool. I am sure it is my imagination, but it felt cooler now that we were in Oregon.
At the top of the hill was the trail magic I had heard about. A cooler with a dozen cans of soda. Camped nearby were Hoover and two other hikers. I selected a Shasta Cola and enjoyed it while talking with them. I signed the trail register. The trail abruptly began its descent. I passed two athletic looking women out for a day hike, although it was still quite early.
It wasn’t long until I was on the part of the PCT I had hiked back in June when driving to Yosemite to pick up Sally to bring her home. This brought me under the Mt. Ashland ski resort. I crossed the paved highway where I had parked the van on that day and continued down the trail, still about 7-8 miles from my trail’s end.
I rounded a bend in the trail and found a PCTA trail crew lopping brush from the trail. As always, they shout, “Hiker coming through”, passing it down the trail in front of me as if royalty were in their midst. I always answer, “Its only me!” I stopped to chat with the foreman of the group, discussing my journey and their work. He mentioned he had a cooler full of iced soda in the back of his grey pickup and I was welcome to take one. Woo hoo! I stopped at his truck just a couple hundred yards down the trail where it joined the road and selected a Pepsi from his stocked cooler. I yelled back up the hill, “Thank You!!” I could hear them chuckle and yell back, “You are welcome!”
Since I had seen Hoover and friends I had not seen another hiker. I passed two Sobo hikers in the next couple miles as the trail made its way downhill, punctuated by the occasional up hill stretch.
I had cell service, so I called Jeff, Andy, Sally and Ed. Jeff asked how I was getting home. I explained my hitchhike, bus ride to Centralia plans. I heard Jackie in the background ask why I didn’t fly home. I didn’t realize Alaska flew into Medford. Jeff checked flights for me and found two afternoon flights that were nearly empty-50 open seats on a 76 seat flight. He booked a 5:05 pm flight to Portland for me. I called Sally and told her the plan.
I reached Callahan’s by the side trail. It passes over the train tracks and down a little used dirt road to the frontage road alongside I-5. A short walk under I-5 and I was at Callahan’s. Along the way I passed a woman PCT hiker I had not met. She was headed into Ashland for resupply, hitchhiking on the freeway on ramp, where I would be in less than an hour if all went according to plan. She was worried about her chances of getting a ride due to the lack of traffic. I wished her well. I walked into the lobby of this stylish lodge type resort and inquired about showers and laundry. The desk clerk told me about the hiker shower in the utility building across the parking lot and charged me $12 for shower and laundry.
Luckily, no one was in the room and I quickly sealed myself inside, stripped and threw all my clothes in the top loading washing machine. I got it going, then stepped into the shower and scrubbed all the trail dirt off, or at least as much as I could remove without removing skin. The clerk had given me one of those white bathrobes along with my washcloths and towels, so I put it on while I waited for my clothes to finish. I put them in the dryer for about 5-10 minutes, then pulled them out and put them on damp. It was in the mid 80’s outside, so I knew they would keep me cool while I stood by the road in the sun hitchhiking and would dry just fine. I put the other items, my pack towel, extra socks and underwear in my pack, still damp. I would be home tonight and could dry them there.
I left Callahan’s and headed for the adjacent freeway on ramp. As I stood in the sun waiting for a car to come by, Double D walked up from Callahan’s. It was great to see him! I last saw him at the Dunsmuir, where we had shared a room. He told me he had met his friends at Etna, hiked with them to Seiad Valley and was doing well. He was wearing support stockings to help with his hurting ankle and reported it was doing much better. A couple cars passed as we chatted, but they ignored my extended thumb. Finally, a car stopped and we exchanged quick goodbyes as I climbed in and he headed back under the freeway overpass to rejoin the PCT northbound.
The woman that picked me up worked at Callahan’s and drove me to my desired destination, the Co-op grocery store in downtown Ashland. She was trying to climb in the hotel industry, working her way up through the ranks. Nice lady.
I had hoped to meet some old friends at the Co-op, but saw no PCTers there. The bus that would take me to Medford and from there to the airport stopped just a couple blocks away. After buying some bananas, apples, nectarines and carrots, I walked to the bus stop. I had my fuel canister in my pack and knew I could not leave it in my bag for the flight, so I extracted it and left it on a wall near the bus stop. Maybe a PCT hiker would find it?
The bus ride was uneventful but interesting. The driver was a very kind woman who obviously knew many of the riders as her regulars and chatted with them on the 45 minute drive. The clientele on this Saturday bus was colorful and I enjoyed the contrast from the PCT hikers I had been with for the last month.
I changed buses in Medford and was soon at the airport, about 3:00 pm. I arrived early enough to catch the earlier flight, but I found a cubby to sit at, reminiscent of the study stations in the high school library, and worked on my blog for two hours while waiting for my flight.
We boarded on time and had an uneventful flight with the plane 3/4 empty. I collected my pack at baggage pickup in Portland and stepped outside to wait for Sally. We communicated via phone and she arrived in a few minutes. I saw her approaching in the Buick and stepped off the curb. At least I thought I was stepping off the curb. I flopped my foot forward and put it squarely on the edge of the curb. This twisted my ankle and sent me face first onto the pavement. My left arm was tucked under my body as I splatted onto the pavement, knocking the wind out of me. Embarrassed, I sprang up from the pavement and quickly walked to her waiting car as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, glancing around to see many pairs of eyes that had seen my graceful act of coordination. I threw my pack in the backseat and jumped into the passenger seat. We laughed about my ridiculous fall, and drove away. Sally asked if I was okay. I said sure, but then noticed my rib cage on the left side was pretty tender and painful. I had cracked a rib or two. How can I hike 630 miles, then trip off a curb at the airport on the last day and crack a rib? As Derek would say, “Brilliant”.
And so, my PCT adventure came to an end. 31 days. 630 miles. I met wonderful people. I pushed myself physically. Today, I kept trying to comprehend that I had just walked from Lake Tahoe to Ashland. I have driven that distance many times. It seemed incomprehensible that I had just walked it. But I was there. I knew I had, but it did not seem possible. Except for 140 miles from Tehachapi to Kennedy Meadows, I have hiked the entire length of California. So cool! And what a great state. Desert. The high Sierra. The immense forests of northern California. And such great people along the way. Although my journey has now ended, I plan to trail angel my “trail family” at White Pass, a reunion for me and a last chance to see everyone a last time. Hopefully, I will get the chance to hike Oregon and Washington some summer and once again live the trail life that I enjoy so much.
Be glad it happened, not sad its over.
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