The Adventures of...: Days 25-26

Day 25, 24 miles, endpoint 5 miles up an abandoned paved road

The four of us left our creepy campsite and headed out for a nice morning of hiking through high desert with multitudes of wildflowers and green chaparral.

I must diverge for a moment and discuss the dangers of hiking. Before leaving on this trip, I was told by friends, family, coworkers, aquantinances, and strangers about all of the terrible things that could happen to me while hiking. The list of things to be careful of included, but was not limited to, lions, tigers, bears, snakes in general, rattlesnacks specifically, rain, snow, heat, cold, dehydration, hypothermia, rodents, falling off cliffs, criminals who rob hikers, and any type injury that would require one to be "carted off the trail." However, the real danger, something that strikes fear and hatred into the heart of every hiker, is something called poodle dog brush.

Poodle dog brush is the vulture of the plant world. It spreads its seeds into the soil and then lays dormant for an unknown period of time. Then, after a wildfire comes along and kills off all of the surrounding plants and animals, it springs to life. Poodle dog brush thrives in burn zones, growing like the weed it is and taking over vast quantities of now empty real estate.

This plant is similar in concept to poison oak in that its leaves cause contact dermatitis (a yucky rash). It is different in that it is not an oil, but rather micro-fibers that grab ahold of the skin or clothes of passerbys, that causes the reaction. It can also be quite harmful; the warning we got was that several forest service workers had been hospitalized as a result of PDB exposure.

Our water report--the bible we use to know where all of our water sources are--indicated PDB was problematic in our upcoming miles, so we were on the lookout. For two terrifying miles we snaked in and out of it, walking sideways with our arms up at times, or leaning from side to side as the wind came and went and the PDB stalks swayed to and fro. It was definitely touch and go, and the hiking was nerve-wracking.

Just when we thought the worst was over we ran into a group of four hikers who told us a road walk was necessary due to the fact that PDB had completely taken over a large section of the trail ahead. Not wanting to relive what we had just gone through, but worse, we exited the PCT for our second detour in as many days.

We first went down a long dirt road that dropped us out at a remote fire station. Several other hikers were in the back, where there was shade, picnic tables, outlets, and water. We filled up on water before continuing on (our last source for 17 miles) and hopped on a paved road that mostly parallels the PCT. We made it five more miles up the road before we called it quits, our feet sore and aching.

Right now Josh and I are set up next to Uke and Smiles' tent on the side of the road that we think is closed. There are views on both sides of the road, and the moon is full above us. I never would have guessed we would camp somewhere this beautiful next to a road. There have been a few night hikers already pass by our tents, and I imagine there might be more to come. The moon is so bright that none of them have had their headlamps on. It would have been nice to keep going and knock out more of this road, but our feet just won't handle it tonight.

Tomorrow we continue on the road for another 12 miles, I believe. We have an exciting goal for tomorrow to keep our spirits up: a KOA campground at mile 444. Showers, laundry, and a store just may be waiting for us at the end of the day.

Just Carla.

Andrew (Yuke) and Alex (Smiles), our fellow Portlanders and hiking pals.

Poodle Dog brush enjoying a nice sunset.

Home of the night... you'd never know we were camped 2 feet from a road.

Full Moon!

Day 26, 20 miles, endpoint PCT mile 444

We left our road campsite early and trudged uphill in the early morning heat with Uke and Smiles. After a few miles we noticed, off in the very hazy distance, the skyscrapers of downtown LA, along with the sky blue ocean further behind it. It was a strange moment to realize, despite all of our wilderness hiking, we were still within viewpoint of the second biggest city in America.

At the top of our pavement climb we reached an eerie spot: a memorial of two fire fighters killed in the 2009 Station Fire, along with the wreckage of a burned-down fire station. The buildings were nothing more than concrete hubs with rusted metal twisting inside of them, a sad and somber remnant of the devastating forest fire.

After the road we cut down on a dirt forest service road, still avoiding the overgrown poodle dog brush infested PCT. Finally, after many long miles, we were clear to return to the actual trail. Although this part of the trail was open, it was still in the danger zone, and we very carefully danced around this stupid plant for many more miles. PDB has a very pungent odor, sort of like a compost pile sitting out in the hot midday sun, and the smell followed us all day long.

We made it to a ranger station, where we took a break and enjoyed soda they had left out for hikers in a cooler. We had only 8 more miles to the KOA and figured it would be a piece of cake. However, the temperature increased dramatically, and the last 8 miles were exposed and devoid of any wind to cool us down. I think those were the hardest miles I have hiked yet so far this trip!

Finally, we arrived at the KOA, which I learned stands for Kampgrounds of America. Yes, campgrounds with a "K." We pitched our tent in a large field with several other hikers, enjoyed the burger special, and did two of the most important things a long-distance hiker can do: showers and laundry. We were even able to convince someone at the campground to go on a beer run, resulting in a pretty awesome night all around.

Tomorrow we will arrive at the home of the legendary Saufleys. These people are renowned for their kindness towards hikers, so it will be interesting to see what it is all about. We will need to resupply in the small town on Agua Dulce, where they live, and will also need to beat the heat, which is supposed to be in the low 100s.