Forested saddle just beyond northern boundary of Castle Crags State Park

Yesterday I simply wrote that Huff-n-Puff made dinner. There was much more to it than that.

Huff-n-Puff barbecued a beer-can chicken, which looked like a sitting on its butt chicken. Unfortunately, it took too long. So while we waited for it to cook, we ate the roasted veggies he had prepared. We ate them in our individual salsa bowls as we sat in a circle on chairs in the driveway. After the veggies, we ate each 1/2 of a barbecued portabella mushroom. Whatever it had been marinated in was absolutely fabulous.

The chicken still was not done and now the barbecue was falling apart, so Huff moved the chicken to the oven inside the house and brought out burgers to barbecue. He served them with maple-flavored toast. It seemed like an odd combo, but it was actually quite incredible. We again ate these in the circle in the driveway.

It was getting on long after dark, approaching 10pm when finally the chicken was done. It was plopped on the gravel driveway in its roasting pan and hacked up by Boon. We ate it in our circle in the driveway. It was delicious, tender and juicy.

It was the oddest dinner ever, but so tasty, cobbled together from seemingly whatever had been on hand. Huff has a gift.

He repeated his gift at breakfast when he served us the most fattening scrambled egg dish ever with ground beef or sausage (not sure), cheese and avocado. With fruit salad and pancakes, I ate two servings each.

My mom arrived as I was having breakfast and I took her on a tour of the Hideaway. I showed her the loaner clothes and washing machine, the shower and the treehouse and the place we set up our tents. I packed up my stuff and off we went to Castle Crags so I could resume my attempted thru-hike from last year. First we stopped in Mt. Shasta City to buy more DEET and sunglasses and have some lunch at Burger King. I was still full from breakfast and had two orange juices.

On the way to Mt. Shasta City, driving on highway 89, there was a view of Mt. Shasta that took my breath away. It is the most beautiful mountain I have ever seen. I was so happy to be here this year instead of last when I could not see Shasta through the smoke of all the wildfires.

My mom dropped me off at the trailhead and I began the long climb up from the Sacramento River. There were lots of small creeks to quench my thirst along the way. True to the guide book, I saw a baby rattlesnake.

I rose higher and higher, first with only glimpses of the Castle Crags through the trees and eventually I was nearly level with them. The guide book had a confusing note that one of the creeks would be the last water for 20 miles, except for a whole bunch of water when you left the trail. Not if, but when. That made no sense so to be safe I guessed which creek was the last and loaded up all my bottles. I made dinner at the last creek, too, to avoid carrying water for cooking. It was hotter than hell, which made eating a hot dinner difficult.

I was sad my giant Hershey bar was once again a puddle of liquid chocolate. I soaked it in the creek in a bag while I ate dinner. Now solidified, I packed it next to a bottle of cold water and headed up the trail.

I climbed the 2500 more feet to a small saddle where I found a flat spot to set up my tent. I ate my Hershey bar so I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. It was still solid.

The evening light lingered a long time and the sky turned pink. I was glad to be on my way and finally moving ahead of where I had left off last year.

Old Station

I slept in the exact same stealth camp I made last year. The ground was level with a little trough just the right size for my body. I slept like a rock. I slept in.

I got everything put away and went down to the pool by 7am. I soaked my feet and talked wtih 3 other people who were guests at the ranch. One was a man named Peter who was an illustrator who lived on the Mesa in Santa Barbara. Maybe I would see him at the Daily Grind back home someday.

For breakfast I had french toast with sausage and two blueberry muffins, 2 perfect, flaky croissants, coffee and grapefruit juice. Yesterday and today were the chef's days off so the food was not as incredible as last year, but it was all delicious and better than most places. The croissants in particular were to die for. I was stuffed.

I sat with Janet the writer again. We talked about Nepal. She had been there in the 80s when travel there was more difficult than now.

We heard there was a real thru-hiker outside so she wanted to interview him. I wanted to hit the trail.

I met the hiker, Moosa, and said I'd see him later at Old Station. Away I went down to Warner Valley Campground where the trail continued. I didn't want to do Drakesbad's secret shortcut to the trail on so full a stomach. It was too steep.

I climbed the trail up into the woods again. I walked along the pleasant trail, startling a mama deer and a baby faun. I passed some nice lakes and contemplated swimming, but it was too early.

At the junction with the lake-blessed alternative route, I opted to take the official PCT route and see what I had missed the other two times I had hiked through the area. I was sorely disappointed. It was indeed a boring, dry dirt road. I should have hiked along the lake route.

I timed myself to Badger Flat. I was hiking 3mph.

At the trail register at the park boundary, I met a section hiker with his dog. I signed the ragged register and found my signature from last year.

The hike through the pine plantation was as boring and awful as ever, but my feet did not hurt and I felt strong. I motored along as fast as I could go. I reached the junction to Old Station store and post office a little before 5pm.

When I arrived, Boon was sitting there waiting for Moosa. When I told him Moosa had just started eating and planned to hit the pool afterward when I left Drakesbad, he seemed a little annoyed. I told him he'd probably be no more than an hour behind me. He showed up faster than that.

The three of us went to the Hideaway and got the grand tour from Firefly. Huff-n-Puff made dinner for us. We showered and did laundry.

Tomorrow begins my thru-hike.

Near Drakesbad in Lassen National Park

My mom and Lowell dropped me off at Highway 36 around 8am. In less than 4 hours I had arrived at the North Fork of the Feather River. The forest and views seemed so different from last year when I walked through smoke in the later season. Things were green. The air was clear. Lassen loomed.

I sat next to the river and bridge for a while. I was not sure of the time since somehow my watch had gotten screwed up, but it still seemed like morning. I only had 10 miles left to get to Drakesbad. I could take my time.

The trail spent most of the rest of the day climbing gently over a ridge and then after entering Lassen National Park, the trail descended toward Boiling Lake and then Drakesbad and Warner Valley Campground.

I decided not to visit Terminal Geyser. I like the pretty colors of Boiling Lake best of all the features I have seen in the park. I had been through this stretch now 3 times.

I saw Lassen looming so close now I could touch it. It amazed me that just the other day it was far away.

I saw a buck with large antlers near Boiling Lake. It disappeared rather than run crashing away.

When I reached Drakesbad, I went inside the main room and a girl sweeping up said she believed dinner was all booked up for the evening. I was disappointed, but I was welcome to use the pool. I went down and soaked for an hour in the hot water. The water seemed much hotter than last year. My feet did not hurt like last year, but 20 miles was 20 miles and the floating in the hot water felt good.

I knew there was a copy of the Yogi book in the office, so I got dressed and went inside to borrow it in order to figure out my resupply strategy for Oregon and Washington. Inside the office, I spoke to Billie who said of course there would be dinner for me. On the way back to the pool with the book in hand, I passed Ed who gave me a hug and said there's always food for PCT hikers. I should come for dinner near the end at 6:45. Hooray!

I sat at the pool with the Yogi book and got a lot of useful information for how to resupply in the town-scarce states of Oregon and Washington. Basically, I have to buy all my Oregon food in Ashland and mail it ahead and all my Washington food in Cascade locks and mail it ahead.

At 6:45 I lined up for dinner behind young men getting seconds and thirds. I got plenty of barbecued hamburger, corn, potato and salad.

Later one of the guests introduced me to the editor of the PCT Communicator who wanted to talk to hikers for an artical. I sat with her until dusk swatting mosquitoes, drinking red win and talking about the PCT.

I soon had to go into the woods before it was too dark to set up my tent. As I snuck away, Ed commented that I did not eat very much. I had been so well fed the last two weeks I felt all filled up. I hoped I would have foom in the morning for breakfast.

I thought later how I had started my hike trying to repeat sections I had done before in different time schedules so that I could see the same areas differently. Not so this section, which seems optimal to do so that you get breakfast and dinner and a dip in the pool at Drakesbad. How on Earth would I be able to manage wtih all the deprivation and loneliness to come?