Tahoe- Oregon

Friends, Weddings, Grass Valley, Bucks Lake & Etna to Oregon!

My hike before Tahoe was predictable: my pace could be consistently measured at 3mph, and I'd hike anywhere between 18-22 miles/ day. After Tahoe, chaos began. I felt confident enough to push the pace and to go at the hike alone, or with new friends, or however I felt it should go that day. My plans became hazy and I made a lot more game time decisions (I now LOVE game time decisions). This was FUN- it was an unexpected rejuvenation from my very predictable previous hiking style.

All this was initiated in July, I have dubbed it my month of chaos. It started when I saw friends from home for the first time on trail. My dearest Gillian and Lisa drove all the way from San Francisco to Tahoe with Gillian's pup Winnie in tow. They scooped me from the trail head in South Lake Tahoe and we immediately went out for Thai food- a recent trail craving. Gillian found out in the first half hour that my extremely predictable dietary habits had gone out the window while hiking- I was now a chip girl (I can still name every flavor and brand that I tried on trail, and which ones rank above the rest and why) and that I was no longer a vegetarian. I had ended my 12 year stint as a vegetarian to curb my hunger while on trail. Admittedly, I am a huge fan of Slim Jims meat sticks. 

We spent our time in Tahoe catching up on stories, jumping into the lake, and eating delicious food. I returned to the trail feeling rejuvenated, finally having been able to connect with a friend from home gave me a breath of fresh air and returned some energy and purpose to my hiking. I knew I'd be getting off trail again a week to return home for a wedding, so I was preparing myself for that short reintegration period- its a bit intimidating after spending so much time on the trail and in the woods to reintegrate quickly back into society, even for a short excursion. 

Somewhere in between Tahoe and coming home back to Orange County (which was coordinated by my parents incredibly ability to efficiently logistics any situation), I spent two nights at a friend's aunt's house in Grass Valley, CA, attended another wedding a short distance off trail, and spent a 4 day surprise respite in Bucks Lake. July was a very unconventional month of hiking, for sure!

Bucks Lake deserves its own little story time. Hootz and I had been eating lunch on a cliffside when one of our friends, PartyBus (appropriate) walked by and said that he was going to hitch into Buck's Lake for a pizza and a beer. For reference, there is a road crossing in this section of trail on which you could hitch into Quincy, CA for resupply or continue on. Bucks Lake is the opposite direction of Quincy and a less popular resupply as its a much smaller town and doesn't have a proper grocery store. But they have pizza and beer! It was a brutally hot and exposed section- part of the Dixie burn scar that is an absolutely egregious stretch of trail covered in burnt trees, ash, global warming and sadness. Anyhow, this invitation to take an unexpected break was warmly welcomed. So warmly that I practically forced a sweet man I found sitting in his car on a fire road to drive us into town (I not only enjoy hitching now, but I have become quite audacious in the attempt). 

We arrived in Bucks Lake and were welcomed with open arms (the open-est of all the arms on trail) to the Lodge that served said pizza and beer. We drank margaritas and had artisan pizza, and were quickly caught in conversation with curious bar-goers about our adventures and trek. They bought us drinks, offered their campsites, rides, anything they could. We didn't have a plan just yet for our time in town, but ended up being convinced by a group of family friends to stay in their "campsite"- we were put up in the Taj Mahal of tents, complete with a bedside table and a queen size mattress. We ended up staying four days in Bucks Lake, soaking in the hospitality, home cooked meals, signature "tree smacker" drinks, and some fourth of July festivities. This elongated town excursion is one of my favorite memories on trail- meeting unfamiliar faces and quickly becoming friends, enjoying each other's company, sharing stories, and being firsthand witness to the unencumbered kindness of strangers. (I can't count the amount of times I heard 'you guys are STILL here??' in those four days. Everyone in town knew). 

July felt like a month of off-trail fun. I don't remember the hiking in July, to be honest. Besides Mt. Shasta, where I reunited with my dearest of trail friends, Diva, and we shared my tent in one of the prettiest campsites of trail overlooking the mountain. We hiked together towards Etna, where I spent a few days with my friend McKenna from back home (and was fed like a QUEEN- nothing made me hike stronger than her homemade meatballs and blueberry crumble). 

All of this time off trail and with friends from various spaces of my life made me so, so grateful for the opportunity to hike the trail. I didn't want to spend any more time off trail, none at all. After July, town stops became less exciting for me, I just wanted to be on trail. This shift felt very forceful in me- nothing else mattered besides the hiking and the experiences I'd have on the dirt and in the clouds and everywhere in between. This energy carried me, practically without effort, through my highest mileage day so far (39 miles!) and finally across the California/Oregon border. I packed out a plastic bottle of Jack Daniels and made everyone that crossed with me take shots followed by a chaser of Mio (caffeinated drink flavor, YUM). After spending more than 3 months on trail, more than half of my total time on trail, in one state, I was MORE than ready to get out of California (no offense, it's the address on my license and all that, respect, whatever). Crossing the California/ Oregon border felt like progress, it felt like the trail was real and I was on it and it wasn't all a hazy dream. Crossing the border made me feel like crossing into Washington wasn't far away, and reaching Canada by foot could actually be a real possibility.