On Shooting Stars, a Close Bear Encounter and a Naked Hottie. All on the same day. Another Guest Posting While Dan Hikes.

This is our first view of Mt. Lassen. Look closely, she is in the background, more about her later.

Dan is been busy hiking and has passed mile marker 2000. He was last heard from in Bend, Oregon, most likely in or near the Deschutes Brewery, quaffing several Mirror Pond Ales and meeting up with other hikers Alex, Niko and Liane. I'm making another post with his permission....I think he is grateful he doesn't have to write one. I am encouraging him to post at least some pictures from the last 600 - 700 miles since I returned to civilization. Maybe he will.....maybe not......here is another post from our hike together. Dan took most of these pictures, hence the upgrade in quality from my last posting.

A neat set of clouds for Ken.

We hike up the switchbacks out of weird little Beldentown in bright afternoon sun. Our shirts and bandanas quickly soak through, but we make good time. My feet do much better with toe holes. It is hot and up, but I have my ascent wish granted.  There are few patches of shade. I learn not to stop in the sun. Fortunately, the water resources are frequent, so we can offset our heavier-than-ideal pack weight by carrying less than half a liter at a time.

We run into Southern, a sturdy, bearded young buck from Tennessee with the appropriate accent. He hikes in a kilt and eschews trail runners for traditional hiking boots. Like Dan, he can fly. He has thru-hiked the AT. Southern hit the Fat Tire keg hard in Beldentown and was hungover. He is water hopping and bleary-eyed, we pass each other several times.

[I am surprised  the third time we catch  him when he looks me in the eye. “I give you props for being out here hiking with your son.” It is the first of several young thru-hikers who remark favorably that I hike with Dan. These are not casual compliments and always catch me a bit off-guard. They come from very fit, serious thru-hikers. A mixture of appreciation and wonder (and yes, pride, I try to stay in shape) runs through me. Older people than I thru-hike and I am only a section hiker. Do these remarks come from a desire they have to hike with their parent or  is it to have their parent understand how much hiking and being outdoors means to them? I wonder.....come on now, quit analyzing old man! Accept your aged fate and get to hiking!

I realize what you are thinking: only old hikers get props just for hiking.]

Evidently  Southern can beat a hangover faster than I, he passes us once more and we see his flying kilt no more. I know you ladies are wondering……. I’ll not answer the question..…. certainly you understand the delicate nature of mystery and  wonder.

More Trail Magic



The Trail. I use the label PCT, but it is the Trail. It deserves to be a proper noun, a proper entity. For me, the Trail becomes a sort of live partner in the hike, infused in me. The outdoors always brings me closer to a deity than any church ever has. She loans her beauties. I accept. I hike her and she delivers.

The picture doesn't really show the insects very well. We were blessed to see hundreds here, back-lit and joyously buzzing and dancing. Look closely, all those little white specks are the bugs. Amazing art.

This guy had his head in a hole chasing something when we disturbed his hunt. See part of his body still down the hole about a foot behind his head? We guessed he was 6 feet or so.

We decide to camp by a lake we see on the map. We hiked up on  the crest of the cliff you see in the background of  this picture and saw this lake below. It was too inviting to pass up, even with a half mile off-trail hike down some very steep rocks.

You mentioned a Naked Hottie?

We made camp, swam (no, neither of us was the naked hottie), rinsed our clothes (we each only have one pair of hiking shorts due to weight), whooped and hollered to listen to the echoes off the cliff and generally had a grand old time. This was to be a night to remember, though we weren't yet aware. Surprisingly, we heard some voices. We quickly climb out to cover up, but needn't have. A young couple of overnighters had hiked to the lake and made camp on the lakeshore obscured from our sight by a large boulder. Shortly, they came by on their way to swim. He, a typical bearded Oregonian-type. She, a statuesque, blonde goddess. We exchanged our stories and trail pleasantries and they then went for a swim in their birthday suits.

Below is a reasonable facsimile of Dan's grin once he realized we needn't have climbed out so quickly to cover.

We are gentlemen and don't stare....though she certainly qualified as Trail Magic.

Something akin to the following conversation ensues when they are out of earshot:

Dan: I need to find a woman like that!

Me: That looks like her?

Dan: One who is adventurous and likes to hike. 

Me: That looks like her?

Dan: One who likes the outdoors!

Me: And looks like her?

Dan: Well.....(insert sh*%-eating grin)....

Now, about the shooting stars?

The only reason you won't see at least a few shooting stars each night, is if you don’t stay awake long enough. We saw plenty and it wasn't even Perseid's shower yet. Fourth of July every night.

 And the Bear Encounter?

I am awakened by the bearded guy with the hot girlfriend yelling and what sounded like a stick pounded on the ground. I can't see them because of the boulder, but I see a flashlight being shined in the woods at the edge of the lake. I turn on my light in the same direction. I hear something large in the bushes about 80 feet away. A pair of eyes shines ominously back at me. I get out of my bag, fully awake. I call to Dan. 

All I hear from Dan is silence.
The noises in the bush get closer.

Me: “Dan….Dan…DAN!!”

Dan: More silence.

One of the rocks holding down my ground cloth sails in his direction.

Dan: “What, what?”

Me: “Get the F*@# up, there is a BEAR out there and it is coming closer!”

We both shine our lights and the bear’s eyes are visible about 35 feet away, blocking our only route of egress. I am now fully aware of the lack of security planning we gave this campsite.

(I know what you’re thinking, back there in the comfort of your home……. “You didn't have a security plan?”)

We plan on the fly and seize upon a brilliant one.

Me: “HHHEEYYYAAHHHH! HHHEEEYYYAHH”

Dan: “YYYYAAAHHHH! YYYYAAAHH!!”

Me: “HHHEEYYYAAHHHH! HHHEEEYYYAHH”

Dan: “YYYYAAAHHHH! YYYYAAAHH!!”

Bear: “….Silent Stare……”

We yell more. I pick up another small rock and throw it in the general direction of the bear.

I don’t want to hit it, just scare it.

It comes closer.

Ok, this bear is serious.

I assess the situation. We are in our skivvies, no shoes on; lights, yelling, and knives our only weapons. Lights and yelling have only encouraged the beast. Why did Dan send the damn bear spray back home 3 weeks ago? I have no desire to try the knives. 

I remember our fire ring. (Not what you think Smokey, we didn’t go to sleep with our fire still burning. We had no fire. Like good scouts, we’d doused the fire earlier). I wobble over and pick up one of the large rocks we used to build the fire ring. Things are looking up. I have some decent weapons. I formulate a plan.

 I consider throwing the rock directly at the bear.

Worried he’ll charge, I ponder a high, indirect, arcing shot to its right side with the 5 pound rock. Calling upon my considerable, but long-dormant, Artillery gunnery mathematics skills, I consider factoring in wind direction, air density, humidity, wind speed, rotation of the earth, distance to target, etc. to formulate a firing solution......Nah, maybe not.

I inhale without the benefit of the aforementioned calculations, and, conjuring my best David Price imitation, I heave mightily.

The time of flight is longer than I expect. The eyes stare silently, unblinking.

The rock lands directly on the huge boulder the bear is standing upon. A thunderous CRACK, echoes across the lake and is reflected back by the several hundred foot cliff that forms a partial bowl around the lake.

The eyes disappear and we hear a full-on, branch-crashing, paw-pounding retreat.

We withstood the age-old man vs. beast challenge. We conquered with intellect, fortitude and skill!



(Well, that, and a huge quantity of good luck. That Bear really wasn't that interested in what we had to offer.)

With more mathematical wizardry, I quickly calculate the rock must’ve landed right beside that bear and scared the bear crap right out of him.

Me: “AND DON’T COME BACK!!!”……..

(Ok, ok, I didn’t really say the last line.)

The lucky bearded guy with the hot girlfriend hollers from across the lake.



Guy: You guys ok? 
Me: Yeah, we're fine. You guys ok?
Guy: Yes, we're fine.
Dan: (under his breath)Yeah, I bet he is. I'd be fine too, if I had a hot girl in my tent.

Our campsite and lucky fire ring constructed of decent weapons.

The next morning, I am dissappointed not to find any bear scat. There are no tracks because it is all rock. We hike out, the couple still in their tent. We surmise the bear had been conditioned to expect trash and coolers from campers at public campground at a larger lake not too distant.

We get closer to Mt. Lassen in the Lassen National Volcanic Park. She is a beauty and getting closer, the first of several volcanoes in a string stretching into Washington.

Our lunch time view.

This is my lunch at that view - tortillas, Nutella and Fritos!



More Trail Art.

I am happy to be with Dan when he hits the half-way pole on the Trail - 1325 miles! I whoop for him and offer congrats! He is more subdued than I expect; pensive actually. I take some pics and then hike on, letting him have some space to digest the moment as well as the Hiker log his friends and fellow hikers have filled. He lingers a while.



Dan at the half way pole.

We hike to the road into Chester and Trail Angel "Piper's Mom" just happens to be pulling up to drop another hiker off and gives us ride into town. What a treat and special person Piper's Mom is! I promise Dan a steak, beer and a hotel to celebrate his half-way mark. We end up in the Best Western and I assess my feet. Not too good but I'll survive, I have 3 nails swollen and darkening. They'll be off in the near future. I minister to my blisters. The dirt completely infiltrates each blister.

That right one is disgusting.

There is no steakhouse in Chester so we settle on a pitcher of Magic Hat #9, salad bar and pizza. We hobble back to the hotel and collapse in the beds. The next morning we eat the best breakfast I have on the trail at the Kopper Kettle. Incredible corned beef hash with eggs and fried potatoes!
Resupply, soak of the feet in epsom salts, meet a teacher who is Harleying her way through 18 states, lunch of a burger/fries/shake and we are ready to hitch. I get more head shakes at my lack of hitching skill. A short, tactfully delivered, lesson from Dan improves our luck... we catch a hitch with a visiting German Materials Science Engineering professor (that is Dan's major, so he gets the guy's card and makes a contact) and we are back on the Trail by 2.

I have one final post including a geothermal vent, lake, hot spring and the balance of my piece of the hike into Burney. I'll post that and some pictures soon. I continue to have a great time on the Trail and with Dan. I see him in ways I didn't before. I'll leave you with a picture from the last post, just because it is so damn beatiful!

Mt. Shasta!