June 27, 2023
- Start: Seasonal stream (PCT mile 1704.9)
- End: Carter Creek (PCT mile 1721)
- Distance: 16.1 miles
It was a good first night on trail. I slept well, but I found myself wide awake with the sun around 5:40 am, which was at least an hour earlier than I’d wanted to get up and out of my cozy quilt. Despite the hour, I knew Poledork and I weren’t any rush to hit the trail right away. We were still trying to find our rhythm together as a duo out here on the trail.
This was where I realized the difference of hiking with a partner. If I were out here on trail by myself, I would have rolled over to heat some water for breakfast in my open tent vestibule. And then, I would have enjoyed my hot coffee and oatmeal as I lingered inside my tent and stayed tucked in warm quilt.
But, hiking with another person (who I’m currently sharing a fuel canister with) meant I had to physically get up this morning. No half-assing it. No lazing in my tent until I felt 100% warm enough to break down camp and get going. I needed to pull myself together and wander over to the kitchen area between our two tents for breakfast like a civilized person.
Poledork was awake already too, which didn’t surprise me. She’s an early bird all year round, even when the sun doesn’t rise at this premature hour. So the two of us gathered around the stove to boil water in the cool morning air, then we began to discuss our hiking plans for the day over a leisurely breakfast.
Our shared goal was to hike 16 miles today and end at a creek on the far side of I-5, just beyond Callahan’s Lodge, a popular spot for hikers to head into Ashland, Oregon. With heavy packs full of food, neither of us had any need to get off trail so early. We could blast past this first town stop and head over to the east side of the interstate where we hoped there’d be plenty of room near another water source to set up camp for the night.
HAZMAT
After breakfast, we set to work breaking down camp, and I quickly realized that I had far more practice at this task than Poledork. I’ve been using the same gear now for several long thru-hikes and my routine is pretty tight.
It wasn’t a race though. So I sat down on my foam sit pad to quietly wait for her to finish packing up. I didn’t want her to feel rushed and forget something in the midst of my restless impatience. We had all day to hike our miles, and there was plenty of daylight to spare.
We eventually rolled back onto the PCT around 8 am, and Poledork took the lead to set our pace. The first few miles of the day were going to be all uphill toward Siskiyou Peak, so I was just trucking along behind her on trail as we chatted about topic after topic.
We’d been hiking for about an hour and just entered an open meadow, when Poledork nearly ran into a male hiker standing on a low stump next to the trail. He’d seen (and likely heard) us coming his way and courteously stepped aside to let us pass. Yet Poledork was so focused on the dirt trail down at her feet that she never even saw him. And she literally jumped up when he said hello to us from mere inches away.
As she caught her breath and gathered her composure, I began chatting with the guy and learned his name was HAZMAT. He said he was a local hiker from Ashland doing a just few days on trail during his time off. After hearing the term HAZMAT, I knew there had to be an interesting story behind his trail name. So I asked him for details about his unusual moniker.
HAZMAT said he earned trail name when he thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail back in 2018 (one year before my own AT thru-hike). He was hiking with his partner above treeline in the White Mountains of New Hampshire when his bowels decided to come rushing to life.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anywhere to dig a cathole in the alpine environment, and the next privy was still miles away yet. So he did the only thing he could think of to deal with the situation. He pooped in a ziplock bag, which he then had to carry for miles, thus becoming his own personal HAZMAT disposal team.
I could help but chuckle out loud. That was an excellent trail name story! I’m so glad I stopped to ask him some questions!
TRAIL MAGIC
HAZMAT wasn’t the only hiker we’d meet that morning during our ascent either. As we continued back into the forest toward the day’s high point, we ran into an older couple out doing a southbound day hike from their car.
They stopped to show us some photos of bell-shaped flowers they’d spotted earlier (though neither of us would see the flowers ourselves as we hiked north). But the really interesting thing about this couple, was that they were both in their mid-80s (!!) and out there doing a 6+ mile day hike on the PCT. Now that was inspiring.
After saying goodbye to the cheerful spry couple, we continued out climb up near the Meridian Overlook and to the trail’s highest point for the day. The summit was just ahead, and Poledork and I both felt ready for a break. Apparently, someone else had the same exact thought too, because just as we crested the peak, we spotted some coolers for PCT hikers and two short folding lawn chairs waiting for us. Trail Magic!!!
We chose to save the drinks for any PCT thru-hikers who might come by, but the empty chairs were definitely calling our names. So we shrugged off our heavy packs, pulled out our respective water bottles, and settled in for a few minutes of resting our swollen feet.
It’s so wonderful to discover that trail magic exists out here on the PCT just like it did on my AT hike. I didn’t expect to see any of it on our short section in Southern Oregon, especially since the high snow year is causing a lot of thru-hikers to skip sections or flip further north. This crazy situation must make it so much harder for trail angels to anticipate when hikers are actually coming through an area and plan accordingly.
MISSING: ONE WATER BOTTLE
We lingered a bit too long at our break. Both of us realized we had cell service, and before you know it we were down the rabbit hole of sending texts home and checking the internet. But we still had lots of miles to hike yet, and it was far too early into this hike to get sucked into the comforts of the frontcountry. We needed to get back on trail and say goodbye to the fantastically comfortable lawn chairs.
As we continued further north, I took the lead on the long, 10-mile descent toward I-5. Of course, just like any trail you hike, that long of a descent is never completely downhill. It’s always small undulating ups and downs with a net elevation loss as you pick your way toward a lower spot on trail.
Nonetheless, the hiking was definitely easier, with lots of places to get water from all the melting snow nearby. The only real challenge were the handful of downed trees on trail that we had to go around, over, or under.
One larger tree laying across our path was particularly troubling. The trunk was so massive that it came above my waist, and I began to worry how we would safely scramble over it. But then Poledork spotted a place beside the trail where someone had bust through the rotten wood in the trunk. It would be far easier to navigate around the tree than over it.
Once we got around to the far side of the giant tree, Poledork stopped to grab some water from a seasonal stream and that’s when she realized one of her 1L water bottles was mysteriously missing. She had two water bottles back at our break on the lawn chairs. But that was an hour ago! One of the plastic bottle must have popped out somewhere along the trail.
This wasn’t a total catastrophe that we needed to remedy though. Her other 1L bottle was still in her side pouch. And she also had the 1L pouch that came with her Sawyer Squeeze filter for her dirty water. This development just meant that she was now down from 3 liters to 2 liters of carrying capacity.
This discovery wasn’t catastrophic. I still had 4.5 liters of water capacity between my two 1L water bottles, my 2L CNOC water bladder (for dirty water), and my 16.9 ounce drink mixing bottle. If we had to dry camp on one of our upcoming days, we would be fine with 6.5 liters of water between the two of us. We would just need to stick together.
MT. ASHLAND
As we continued hiking north into the late morning, we kept catching glimpse of Mt. Ashland. It stood out from the other peaks mainly due to the eye-catching FAA radar tower that reminded me of a golf ball all teed up or the Spaceship Earth attraction at Disney’s Epcot. Anyone who’s see it knows exactly what I mean.
Then we passed over stream after stream along Mt. Ashland’s slopes, crossing paths with more than a few and day hikers out with their dogs. But rather than stopping for lunch at one of these random spots, we decided to push on until we got to the former Mt. Ashland Inn.
Originally built back in 1987, this rustic B&B had since become a private home and the new landowners were very hiker-friendly. They put a wooden picnic bench on the edge of the property for PCT hikers to use, and they allowed people to use their water spigot.
The two of us lingered in the shade for a long lunch while taking in all the blooming wildflowers on the property. Poledork even broke out her watercolors and painted a small image of the inn on a paper map of the trail. It was such a clever way to document her journey out here. I’m always in awe of people who identify as “creatives” because I don’t any sort of skill like that. I can’t draw, or paint, or do any sort of visual art. I just don’t have the originality to come up with something so artistic.
BUSHWHACKING
Unfortunately, the next section of the PCT beyond the old Mt. Ashland Inn wasn’t nearly as relaxing as our lunchtime respite. The trail was pretty overgrown, and I felt like I was beating back the jungle as I pushed my way through brush and plants that were often and high as my shoulders.
Only a narrow dirt strip down at my feet told me I was still on track as I left us though the green maze. And my biggest fear was that the foliage was too dense for me to see any potential snakes that might be hanging out nearby.
We finally broke free of the melee as the trail dropped down to the road we’d been paralleling since the Mt. Ashland Inn. I genuinely hoped the trail crossed the paved road and picked up somewhere below without any more bushwhacking. My legs and arms were already scratched up enough for day two.
But, my hopes didn’t pan out. Rather than crossing over the road, the trail picked right back up again at the far end of a vehicle pull-out. And it dove right back into the green leafy mess for another mile or so before it we finally made our way clear of the overgrown foliage.
CROSSING THE INTERSTATE
About two hours more of hiking through the shaded trees of the Rogue River National Forest, we could hear the noise of semi-trucks making their way up and down I-5. We were closing in on our evening destination of the east side of the interstate.
As we got closer and closer, I could spot the road traffic below us. I now had a visual reference to go with the vehicle noises we’d been hearing for more than an hour. It was one of those casual reminders of how loud cars and trucks (and especially motorcycles) can be.
You tend to adjust to this noise when you’re in town and hearing it all the time. But as soon as you get out in nature and away from everything, it’s as if your ears recalibrate to a lower decimal level. Bird chirps appear at a “normal” volume, and ordinary motor vehicles sounds like disruptive aural chaos.
We paralleled the interstate for the better part of a mile before dropping down onto Old Highway 99 and walked south to the underpass where we crossed under the interstate. We were now on the east side of I-5, where we would remain for the rest of our time in on the PCT as we headed toward the Cascade Mountains.
It was approaching 5 pm now, and we were nearly to our campsite for the evening. All that was left was to hike the final mile to Carter Creek where we intended to set up camp for the night in a nearby meadow.
The creek itself was dry and had a small bridge over it, but off to the left of the trail, there was seasonal brook flowing strong according to some comments in FarOut. And once we finally got there, nobody else had claimed a spot yet. We have the entire place to ourselves!
I suspect our good fortune was mostly because so many thru-hikers were getting off trail to head into Ashland to resupply and stay the night. They would pass this spot a mere mile after they returned to the trail, probably in the morning sometime. This was a one of the many benefits to being a section hiker where your miles and stopping points were staggered between the bubbles of other hikers.
FOOT WOES
We found some flat spots in the lush meadow to set up our tents, but I still had one major issue to deal with – my feet. They’re just still so mangled from my Mt. Rainier climb. The rest of my body seems to be doing fine with our overall increase in mileage today. My legs feel good. My back is fine. It’s just the blistered feet that are holding me back.
After cleaning them off in the brook, I decide to try something new. Back when I had my big toenail removed a few weeks ago (after the mishap on the Highline Trail), one of the podiatry nurse practitioners at the VA gave me an entire package of lamb’s wool to take home with me.
I’d seen and heard about lamb’s wool during some of my hikes on the Camino. It was a common treatment for foot issues in New Zealand. Essentially the long wool fibers provide additional padding for your feet, and it wicks moisture away from the skin to prevent hot spots from becoming blisters. Plus, the lanolin in the wool was a moisturizer for the skin – kind of like a natural wax.
I already had open blisters open on my feet, so we were long past the preventative phase. But it was still worth a try to see if the lambs wool cushioned my painful open sores better than tape or bandaids. At a bare minimum, the wool should let my skin breathe and dry out a bit overnight.
There were still a lot of miles to hike before we get to our first break at Fish Lake, and I was willing to try just about anything. Today was a fairly easy day on the feet, with lots of downhill, no snow, and only a few downed trees. But I doubt we’ll have that same trifecta again tomorrow!
