June 26, 2023
- Start: California/Oregon border (PCT mile 1692.7)
- End: Near a seasonal stream (PCT mile 1704.9)
- Miles Hiked: 12.2 miles + 0.3 bonus miles down to the border (12.5 miles total)
- Distance Driven: 206 miles to the Stateline Trailhead
Today is the start of my Oregon section hike on the PCT. I’m finally hitting the trail!
Of course, getting to the trailhead would a battle in itself. I’d planned to start this summer’s hike down to the Oregon/California border (PCT mile 1692), which makes for a nice symbolic starting point, but not an easily accessible one.
Most people who pass this geographic landmark do so their PCT leg between Seiad Valley, CA (PCT mile 1657) and Ashland, OR (PCT mile 1719). Far fewer hikers try to drive there. Yet in my typical stubborn way, I really wanted to start this trek right where the PCT crossed into Oregon. This meant winding our way down miles and miles of gravel and dirt forest roads into the rural reaches of southern Oregon until we arrived at the Stateline Trailhead just 0.3 miles north of the California border.
Luckily, I married a good man who’s driven me to more remote trailheads than I can begin to count. Keith no longer even bats an eye when I ask him to head down rutted dirt roads with no cell service just to drop me off for one of my hiking adventures.
POLEDORK
My summer section hike on the Oregon PCT is also one of the rare occasions were I’m not starting my journey solo. My weekly hiking pal, Bonnie (aka Poledork), is joining me for the first 150 miles of Oregon so she can fill in a missing gap in her own PCT hiking resume.
It honestly feels a little weird to head to the trail with a partner in tow, and I wonder how this trip will impact our friendship. We’ve hiked a hundreds of miles together over the past 18 months, but only as day hikes. This will be our first real backpacking trip together and I have all these nagging questions running through my mind. What if we aren’t compatible hikers? Will we become bored (or annoyed) with each other after so many days together? Will this hike enhance or diminish our overall impressions of the other person?
Nonetheless, hiking with a partner has its perks too. It means moderating my pace and walking fewer miles at the beginning of my trip, which is a skill I still desperately need to learn. I often get so excited about my outdoor adventures that I overdo it during the first few days and then end up paying the price with injured feet, sore muscles, and a bit of mental catastrophizing.
I definitely don’t need any new injuries either – given the fact that I’m coming into this section hike with badly torn up feet from my Mt. Rainier climb, which ended a mere two days ago. I finished that climb with blisters covering the tops of most of my toes and the insides of both heels thanks to the double-walled rental boots I used. So the last thing I need right now it to do it overdo it with my exuberance. Hence the reason I’m eager to let Poledork set a more relaxed pace for the two of us.
But mostly, I’m super excited to share this experience with Poledork because she knows so much about Oregon history and the local flora. She’s a wealth of interesting knowledge and always pointing out new flowers and telling me their names.
TAGGING THE BORDER
Of course, I my first mistake of this trip was assuming the directions I pulled off Google would actually get us to the trailhead. This was not a good plan. Somewhere south of the tiny rural community of Ruch, my directions sent us up a dirt road that took a hairpin turn up a hill that was completely impassible by car.
Luckily, Poledork saved the day. She brought her guidebook for the Oregon section of the PCT in the car for entertainment value on the drive down to the border. So between that guidebook and her GaiaGPS app, we were able to get ourselves over to the gravel forest service road (Beaver Creek Road) that would actually get us to our intended destination!
Once we finally found the dirt pull-out for the Stateline trailhead, we left our packs in the car, and the three of us – me, Poledork, and Keith – set off hiking southbound on the PCT to find the sign marking the border. The route followed a lovely downhill slant, and we giddily chatted to each other the entire 0.3 miles, releasing the pent up nervous energy of the 4-hour car ride out there.
Two thru-hikers named Town Stop and Sherpa Sheryl were sitting beside the trail cooking up their lunch when we got to our destination. So we chatted with them briefly and learned they were a mother/daughter duo who started at the Mexico border, skipped the Sierras (due to the record high snow), and were now back on trail heading north toward Canada.
After signing our first official PCT trail register, Poledork and I grabbed some obligatory photos of the wooden sign marking the start of our adventure. Then, we wished the other hikers good luck and set off uphill to grab our packs from the car. It was time get the party started, for real!
SNOW
Our first hour heading north of the PCT was filled with miles of uphill hiking, and the weight of six days of food seemed to be working against me. We started around 6,000 feet above sea level and were soon up above 7,000 feet sweating with the effort of the climb.
Somewhere around the 6,800-foot realm, snow started to appear on trail too. It was patchy at first, but then completely covered the trail to the point that our route was no longer even visible. Soon thereafter, we began to leapfrog with another hiking duo, and eventually the snow slowed us down to the extent that even Town Stop and Sherpa Sheryl caught us too.
Unfortunately, all six of us hikers kept gravitating higher up the ridge while skirting the side of the deep snowpack. And by the time any of us thought to check our location in relation to the PCT, we were several hundred feet above the trail with piles of icy snow and a precipitous slope serving as impediments to get back down to our intended route.
After a full 10 minutes of sidestepping down the exceedingly steep slope, we all finally found our way back to the trail, and everything seemed well again. Yet the victory was short-lived. Soon the PCT started uphill anew and we were back into the snow once again!
After some frustrating bushwhacking through narrow pine trees, Poledork and I decided to just grab the adjacent forest road to finish the final quarter-mile hiking up to where the PCT crossed over just up ahead. In hindsight, we really should have totally avoided the snow altogether and just walked this dirt road the entire way. But, where was the fun in that? It was day one of our hike and the snow was a novelty still at this point.
Up near the road crossing, we stopped to check our progress. It had been two hours since we started hiking, and between the ascent to 7,000 feet and the maddening snow that hid the trail, we were setting an abysmally slow pace. We’d barely come for 3.5 miles since the border!
Normally, I would have been concerned about such slow momentum, but honestly, I wasn’t worried in the least. I’d mentally written today off as a short day. It was past noon when we got to the trailhead and I’d assumed we’d just hike a handful of miles regardless of the pace. Poledork and I would stop to camp around dinnertime, and we didn’t need to kill ourselves trying to push big mileage days. This trip was simply about the adventure and camaraderie of the experience.
And so, just beyond the dirt road, we pulled into the shade of some manzanita bushes and sat down for the first break of our hike. Poledork and I immediately began assessing how our bodies were feeling thus far, and in the midst of that, we almost missed out on the spectacular views. But then I looked up, and directly to our south, Mt. Shasta dominated the sky amid the puffy clouds. What an utterly beautiful sight!
Amazing afternoon
After our break, we were back to the snow and and carefully picking our way over some downed trees. Yet none of it was quite as bad as the challenges we’d already seen during our first two hours on trail. Everything – good or bad – was still a novelty, and we reveled in the moment. The sun was shining. The day was warm. And were were finally hiking on the PCT after months of talking about this adventure.
As we hiked on, my eyes continued to be drawn to various wildflowers, especially the bell-shaped blooms covering the waist-high manzanita bushes. They immediately reminded me of my winter section hike on the PCT back in January 2020 where I followed the first 110-miles of the trail from the PCT’s southern terminus up to Warner Springs, CA.
I’d been admiring the manzanita flowers in bloom back then too, when I had the horrible misfortune of crossing paths with some bees pollinating the flowers. One of the bees aggresively turned its sights on me and began buzzing around my head. Then the ornery bee decided to sting me! Right on my scalp!
Thus, I was on high alert for the buzzing of bees as we passed the these fragrant blossoms this warm afternoon. I didn’t want to repeat that experience on this section of the PCT too!
We continued hiking north on the trail without any bee incidents, and my thoughts turned to my weary leg muscles and blistered feet. Why had I thought it was a good idea to climb the fourth highest mountain in the contiguous U.S. just two days before this section hike? Why did I always overestimate my physical abilities and push myself so hard? I wanted to kick myself for my poor judgment, but I suffered in silence. At least I had Poledork to keep our pace easy and buoy my spirits with her witty conversation.
DAY ONE GLITCHES
As we climbed up toward the top of one of the peaks in the late afternoon sunshine, my stomach started to grumble with that unmistakable sign that I needed to stop and dig a cathole. The tension of my Mt. Rainier climb was finally being released and my bowels were working overtime as the hip belt of my heavy pack dug into my lower abdomen.
Dammit. I needed to stop and find somewhere to discreet to dig among the rocky slope before any of the other hikers we’d been leapfrogging with came upon us.
After my pit stop, Poledork and I checked our mileage. We were both feeling good still and the momentum of our first day on trail continued to push us forward. Although neither of us expected to hike more than 10 miles this afternoon, we were actually on track to push a bit further.
It’s always a nice feeling to feel like you’re ahead of the game, and we settled into a nice easy pace as we whittled the afternoon away. We agreed to shift the notional goalpost for tonight’s camp up the creek about a mile or so beyond Siskiyou Gap. That would get up a little more than 12 miles today, and put us in good stead for tomorrow’s full day of hiking.
As the warm afternoon turned to early evening, we stopped to drink some water and Poledork pulled out her phone to see how much further until we got to. This was her first time using the FarOut app, and you could see she was digging the novelty of it. Then her face fell when she read the app. We still had three more miles to hike until we’d get to our agreed upon campsite. You could see the fatigue on her face at the idea of a hiking for that much further.
Luckily this was my chance to be the hero. I knew from past experience that FarOut can be a bit finicky when you toggle the GPS icon on. Sometimes it takes an extra moment or two for your to calibrate your current location. And three miles seemed off to me, so I double checked my own phone.
That’s when I broke the welcome news that we were really only 1.4 miles away from the creek. Her GPS just hadn’t caught up yet. The smile on her Poledork’s face was priceless when I made the correction. Almost immediately, and the spring in her step returned. We only had another 35-40 minutes left to walk for the day.
We could see a handful of other hikers’ tents set up along the forest road when we finally got to Siskiyou Gap, but we’d already greed to continued on for another mile so we could camp close to the creek.
I’m extremely comfortable dry camping after doing it so many times on the Arizona Trail, but I think Poledork really preferred stopping near a water source – at least until she calibrated exactly how much water she actually needs each nights for her dinner, breakfast, and overnight drinking needs.
And so, we found an a perfect place to set up camp bout 100 meters uphill from the creek on an old abandoned road. I got to work pitching my tent just as the mosquitoes that magically appeared at dusk.
Our first day on the Oregon section of the PCT was officially complete. It was a perfect day in terms of the weather. There was much more water than I was anticipating (thanks to the high snow year). And the company was excellent. Hopefully tomorrow brings more of the same.
Our goal for tomorrow is to try to hike a 16 miles and get past I-5, where many of the thru-hikers will be getting off trail to head into Ashland to resupply. With so many days of food on our backs, we definitely don’t need to that detour into town. So we’ll start the day with a nice big 3-mile climb toward the Mt. Ashland Ski Resort, then it should all be mostly downhill to I-5.
