Beer and Bat Shit

From Castella, we decided to hitch to the town of Mt Shasta where we wanted to experience what we heard to be a hippie's dream come true. The town, sitting at the base of the root chakra of the world, is home to several crystal shops, art galleries, and people who understand the hiker lifestyle. We also intended to visit the Buddhist monastery in order to gain a more cultural understanding of the area. As Golden put his pen to the paper to make a hitch-hiking sign, a woman named Kate did a double take and offered us a ride to Shasta despite having just come from there. She was on a road trip enjoying the scenery and decided to hang out at the trail head because she was determined to give a PCT hiker a lift. We were the lucky recipients! The ride from her was refreshing because, rather than only asking the standard questions about how many miles we do or how long we've been on trail, she was curious about the logistics, gear, and organization required to complete a long distance hike, as well as our opinions, do's and don't's, of how to hike.
Our first night in Shasta was a nice change of pace; we had decided to stay in a hotel room alone for the first time so as to make long-overdue phone calls to home and have a night to ourselves.
To see a summary of our next night in Shasta, see the photos below :D

Homeless or Hiker?

Needless to say, we all rolled over the next morning unanimously agreeing to zero another day. Plans fell into place rapidly. 30 Pack left the room to go buy a DVD player. Steamer called the front desk to reserve another night as then left to go rent movies. Golden went to pick up lunch for himself, Ex, and Rainmaker. We didn't move from bed once the rest of the day. This was made easier because Steamer and Rub-a-dub made the room an ice box by turning down the air conditioning. It was the truest zero we have taken.
Leaving Shasta was one of our most difficult hitches, but we still managed to hike ten miles before night fell. Unfortunately, the views from Shasta to Seiad Valley were obstructed by the smoke from the forest fire that an arsonist had set. We were surprised, however, when we received magic from trail crew members working to repair the eroded section. They fed us fruit salad, greens, and spaghetti and even let us pack out the excess fruit to eat for the following day's breakfast.
As we raced to beat the Seiad Valley Post Office yet again, we met our first southbounders who reassured us that we would love Oregon. With that news, we hiked 22.5 miles into Seiad Valley by 2:30pm.
When we arrived in Seiad Valley, we were shocked to hear that the RV Park was charging $20 to pitch a tent. Nothing irritates us more than having to pay to camp when we could just walk a mile out of town and pitch our tent for free. Under the same mindset, the manager of the general store gave us permission to camp under the nearby bridge that he owned. After socializing into the late hours of the night, we convinced Rustic that our plan to camp under the bridge was brilliant. The three of us climbed down the embankment, headlights casting a blinding beam, and stepped beneath the bridge. Without warning, we were swarmed by HUNDREDS of bats! Circling our heads, we ducked for cover. When finally the last bat flew off into the night, we searched for the flattest spot to camp. Rustic stomped right into a pool of foul sludge. Too proud to abandon our plan and cough up the twenty bucks, we found the most functional spot and made camp for the night.
We didn't sleep well. Throughout the night, we awoke to the bats swooping in and making their squeaky calls. At one point, we could hear the distinct sounds of pellets dropping around us. Golden lay awake at night fearful that some would drop into his open mouth as he slept. When daylight finally broke, we were greeted with a ghastly sight that we were unable to see in the darkness of the night. We were surrounded by bat shit! Due to his unlucky position beneath a support beam, Rustic's sleeping bag was covered in it. Poor Rustic. Of all the people for this to happen to, it is unfortunate that it had to be him because his type A personality requires a high degree of cleanliness. Despite our traumatizing experience, we all climbed up the embankment with a smile on our faces knowing that we had survived that night together and were left with a unique story to share.

Satan and Strawberries

Chester turned out to be a vortex of fun! After hiking in early in the morning and completing our chores (i,e. laundry, showers, grocery shopping, resupply, etc.), we had a proper meal, shared a drink with new friends on the motel porch, and relaxed in the hot tub.
We grudgingly took a hitch back to trail at 11am but ended up sitting at the trailhead for two hours putting off the inevitable. We were all feeling a little worn down realizing that we had only completed half of our journey. Despite our high after having made it to the midpoint, our focus again fell toward how far we still have to go. It didn't help that we got word that three people we hadn't seen in a while were only three miles outside of town. Of course we had to go back into town to celebrate with them! The other plus side to this decision was that the dentist's office was now open and offered PCT hikers a no-strings-attached $20 meal voucher to Maria's Mexican restaurant. We surprised Rainmaker, Rub-a-dub, and Steamer at the restaurant when they arrived. The celebration lasted until the wee hours of the night, but we managed to be more responsible the next morning getting back to trail at 9am.
The two days into Old Station were quick and painless, except on our noses; we hiked passed a boiling lake that smelled strongly of sulfur. We raced to Old Station to catch the post office. We rewarded ourselves with milkshakes!
While Ex sipped on her milkshake, a male section hiker named Strawberry pulled up in his car. Not wanting to be alone with him, she nervously glanced around for Chick Chock and New Orleans. This particular hiker had gained a reputation for being a creeper on trail. So one story goes, Strawberry was southbounding and crossed paths with Outburst. After hiking a few miles beyond her, he ran into another hiker who was bird watching. The hiker told Strawberry that he had just witnessed two eagles mating, locked together in a free fall of imminent death if the ceremony were not completed. Strawberry took this as a sign that he and Outburst were soulmates, did an about face, and ran after her. She let him down gently. His heart couldn't have been too broken because a couple days later at the William's, Bad Seed woke to him staring at her. As she got up to go to the bathroom, he grabbed her by the arm and whispered seductively, "How bad are you Bad Seed?"
He tested the waters by giving Ex some beers and two avocados telling her she was beautiful and offering her a ride to wherever she wanted to go. She accepted everything he had to offer and gave him nothing in return. Sorry mom.
That night, we cowboy camped at Subway Cave, underground tunnels created by ancient lava flows. Golden went exploring deep into the sections that were closed off to the public. With only a headlamp to find his way into the damp and dark depths, he squeezed his way passed a chainlink fence into the home of satanic rituals. Melted wax spotted the floor left over from calls to the dark one. The pentagrams and the numbers 666 sprayed on the cave walls could give anyone a shiver. He pushed deeper into the tunnels, climbing through cave-ins and over boulders that reminded him of the traps in well guarded temples. It made him feel like Indiana Jones seeking a wonderful treasure.
Although Golden made it out alive the night before, both he and Ex wanted to kill themselves hiking a 30 mile dry stretch along Hat Creek Rim. We were reminded of how much we did not miss the desert. Unbeknownst to us, that would be the last night we would hike with Solstice.
Burney Falls had many surprises in store for us. Golden Boy's friends had sent him a surprise package of freshly baked funfetti cookies, dots (his favorite candy), airplane bottles of liquor, and letters from home. Chops' mom, Valerie, was excited to become a trail angel and provided us with sugarcane soda pop, chips, sunblock, and a ride to the grocery store. Explagrance was excited to have the opportunity to tell her what a spectacular job she did raising her son, Bill Parnell. An impressed camper even gave Golden and Busted a bottle of wine. As Ex was behind them hiking in, she didn't get to partake since they were selfish brats. We hiked out of Burney Falls after the heat of the day to make our way to Castella/Mt Shasta. Although the trail was extremely overgrown, we had our first awe inspiring views of Mount Shasta. She stands thousands of feet higher than those surrounding her and is the root chakra of the world. Watching her silhouetted in the sunset the night before we made it into town was a privilege and excited us all the more.
When we arrived in Castella we found more love in the form of a surprise package from our Aunt Jodi and Uncle Rodney. Home made fudge, whipped honey, Mountain House meals, Nutella (which Ryan eats in disgusting quantities), trail mix, and other goodies, along with much appreciated words of encouragement cheered us. Getting these packages from home provides us with an overwhelming feeling of love and support, easing our home sickness, and pushes us to carry on in our journey. We love and miss you all!

Dropping like flies

7/21: We started the morning off with Golden laughing as Lady Ex. raged war on Eddie, who was put on her shit list by being the first the thru-hiker to ask "are you out here BECAUSE you, like, read Wild?" After being asked this by EVERY  day hiker, Explagrance snapped and responded "no, actually, I'm not a heroin addict who opens her legs for random strangers. And not to toot my own horn but I've walked over a thousand miles and didn't skip half the desert and the Sierras." On that note, we hiked out with Rustic. We found him to be especially refreshing, as he bitched more than Lindsay about the 1/4 mile off-trail hiking we had to do to make it back to the PCT! Hiking up to the Sierra Buttes was exposed and piping hot. Lady Ex. had to hang her soaking wet underwear from a trail sign to dry when she finally made it to the top for lunch. Gross! While we were enjoying lunch, Solstice caught up to us and immediately burst into tears. Crazy Knees, she told us,  had finally come to the decision to listen to his body and his mind and get off trail.
This was our first of many heartbreaks to come. Sierra City proved to be hard on people's spirits, having been shortly after the 1000 mile mark and the next easiest bailout point. Northern California, although not home to difficult elevation changes or extreme temperatures/water shortages,  is difficult in it's own right. Northern California is a different kind of beauty. The thick forest engulfs you, however,  preventing the panoramic views that you had come to expect from the trail. Furthermore, people become far and few between, as hikers' pace is no longer defined by the terrain. As much as we love each other, we had come to enjoy and depend upon the company of others. It's extremely disheartening when you find out that a person that you've come to know so well over the past three months has decided to quit. You, too, begin to think about how far you still have to go rather than how far you've come. Stealth quit. Babyface, D-Cup, and No Bad Days hitched to Canada to Southbound in an attempt to reignite their passion and reasons for hiking. We know of at least three others who made it to Sierra City and could go on no longer. Drama Queen, our long lost love who we had been holding onto hope would catch us again,  wrote to tell us he was flying home to Utah because he couldn't do this for another two and a half months. In the midst of all the depressing news, we've been trying to hold onto the hike-it-out mentality and share laughs and love with those that remain.
Terry and Nancy Williams support couldn't have come at a better time. We hiked into the trail angels' house around 9pm on 7/22 and were received with open arms. Nancy was so excited to take care of hikers, since she wasn't hosting anyone yet and had thought it was going to be a quiet, lonely night. Terry and Nancy provided such a warm homey feel, the perfect experience for Solstice's first angels. The home cooked meals, the soft foam mattresses, showers, laundry, and genuine display of love in action helped us to get past our home sickness and refocus.
Unwilling to become a feral child again, we made our way the 25 miles to the Braatens, another family of trail angels, in Belden, CA. Two angels in two nights--we had never been so spoiled!
The hike out of Belden is one of the largest elevation changes on trail. Already a time consuming and rough climb, Explagrance made her life all the more difficult by getting lost for over an hour and a half. When she caught up to Golden and Solstice 13 miles later, she broke down into a fit of tears. Golden silently slipped her a snickers bar in an attempt to cheer her up...it worked! The evening was improved further when a group of day hikers insisted that we drink their beer and eat their chocolate.
We woke up anxious to hit the trail, as we were to finally hit the half way point. As we came up on the tiny concrete monument, Lady Ex ran into Golden's arms in a celebratory embrace! We popped the champagne generously packed out by Fireball and Busted, sat on our butts for two hours, and posed for several silly pictures. Our spirits were high! We had walked 1325 miles, half way to Canada! We planned to head into Chester the following day for some proper celebration.