It is 6:18 in the morning as I set out to climb 5600 feet out of Belden Town by myself. This would be a big climb for any given day in the High Sierra, but I did not expect we would face a climb like this in Northern California. Although Kurt has been doing amazingly well on this whole hike, a climb of 5600 feet in one day is not for him. He is going to hitchhike back to the car and drive it around to the trailhead where I will finish later today. We camped in the ‘Treehouse’ which is really an old mining structure on the side of the highway where we played our nightly game of cribbage after having a burger at the strangely vacant Belden Resort. Set deep in a canyon on the side of the Feather River right in the middle of nowhere, the whole town looks like an abandoned movie set.

An old mining structure known by PCT hikers as ‘The Treehouse’

I tried to lighten my pack, but in the end, I’m carrying everything I might need to spend the night up here. I’m not sure if I can do 20 miles when the first 14 are straight uphill. I get as early a start as I can, given my fear of hiking alone in the dark. Yesterday it was 90° in Belden, so heat is definitely going to be a factor. Twenty minutes into this climb, I am already in a full body sweat.

The hillside I’m hiking up is impossibly steep, the kind where you can’t imagine how they ever got a trail carved in, the kind where you can’t afford to slip. Even so, the trail itself is stable and wide enough to not feel dangerous. I glance behind me and see the sun is about to cross over the ridge. The hill tops in front of me are kissed with golden light. Yesterday we passed a sign, welcoming us to the geographic area of the Sierra and saying goodbye to the volcanic geography of the Cascades. Its amazing how clear this difference is in the landscape.

It would make sense for me to plan to spend the night on top of this beautiful ridge, but I’m going to try to do it all in one day. This is partly because of my acknowledgment that I don’t like camping alone in the wilderness and one of my Jobs-In-Life is to stop pushing myself toward things I don’t want and instead choose to be in alignment with what I do want. But the other reason is simply this: I don’t want to leave Kurt. I just don’t want to leave him.

He is on this journey for two primary reasons. The first is to support me in finishing my PCT. He was willing to come to Northern California to be my Trail Angel, to meet me at all the re-supply points and help me get a ride back up to my car at the end, but we both got the idea that he might be able to hike some of trail with me as well. After his successful climb of Glacier Peak this summer, it seemed that he might be able to hike a lot of it, so we changed our intention and set out to do the hiking together. His other intention has become to see if he can do this. I have decreased my daily mileage a bit to accommodate him, but we have still been hiking 15-17 miles per day which is amazing.

At the last opportunity before cresting a ridge, I look down and see the highway below me. I wish that I could see Kurt getting a ride so that I would know he was all taken care of for the day. He has taken on the job of hitchhiking back to Chester to get the car which is a huge service to our mutual project and is, in many ways, harder and more daunting than doing the hiking. This may involve hitching to Quincy, getting a bus to Chester, getting another hitch to the trailhead to pick up the car and then driving back to Quincy. We have both been befuddled by these small towns and mountains highways in the hills of this part of Northern California. Where the heck is Quincy? How do you get from Quincy to Chester? Which side of the highway do you stand on for the hitchhike? Sometimes it simply turns out that you can’t get there from here, at least not without a private vehicle. It’s actually easier to walk, which is what I get to do.

By 7:30 the sun has crested the hillside and is fully upon me. It’s not hot yet, but it’s coming. Every vertical foot I can gain works in my favor in terms of temperature. I checked my map. I’m over 4000 feet in elevation, and it’s only 1.8 miles to the next water source. I take a break to put away my headlamp and dump out a liter of water. This will save me 2.2 pounds. The trail meanders back-and-forth on switchbacks straddling a ridge, half in sunshine, half in shade. Back-and-forth I go until I’m out of the trees and overlooking the whole valley and the North Fork of the Feather River.

A view of the Feather River canyon from the first water source

By 8:30 I have made it to the first water source, a tiny spring hidden in a canyon slightly off trail. I love these little springs and marvel at how water is somehow naturally coming out of this dry hillside and somebody found it and put a small pipe there to make it easy to collect. I’m pretty happy with my progress and enjoying the beautiful view. I drink enough water in the shade to raise goosebumps all over my body, so soon I shoulder my pack and continue up hill.

By 10 am I’ve gone 8.3 miles, and for the next several miles I wind uphill through a burned plateau of forest. The undergrowth is mostly willow, fern and fireweed, which has long since ceased its bloom and is now covered in sparkling white cotton-like seeds. The tree trunks are either black or bright white where the bark has fallen off. Some of the fireweed leaves are turning purplish red. It’s startlingly, peacefully beautiful. I collect my last water and lean in to the rest of this climb.

I have not heard from Kurt, and I don’t know if he’s gotten a hitchhike to town or not. I am concerned about him but absolutely clear that we made the right decision. Today’s climb would not have been in his best interest. Hiking together has been a wonderful and totally new experience for me. Hiking with a trail partner is something that was lacking through most of my PCT experience. There were some trail partners of convenience for a few days or even a couple of weeks, but they (or I) would simply move on or stay behind when our needs diverged. It feels different to have someone who will wait for me if I need it and someone for whom I will wait. Because of our age and experience differences, I have been mostly looking out for him. I hike faster, but I don’t let myself get very far ahead before I stop and wait. I check in to see if he needs a break or wants to push forward. I recommend therapeutic cold water leg soaks with which he willingly complies. He has pushed himself pretty much to his limit by the end of each day, and I have been filled with tenderness and admiration for how strong he is. I hope to be doing exactly the same thing when I am 75, and I know there are no guarantees that I will be able to.

The trail before me flattens out and moves along the edge of the ridge top with expansive views of the granite basins and mountain lakes below. I checked my map and find that I’m done climbing for the day. I feel great, and I’m ready for a long lunch break on top. As I move toward an inviting granite chair complete with backrest, a peregrine falcon swoops toward me. She does not deviate from her path but soars right at me as if to get a closer look before pulling up over my right shoulder and soaring out of sight. Feeling thrilled and lucky, I wonder what kind of a blessing this was. I have not seen a single human all day, but I am not feeling lonely or afraid. I sit and write in my journal and text a few friends. I still have not heard from Kurt.

It turned out that Kurt was having an adventure of his own with the hitch hiking. It look him longer to get the rides he needed to travel the 100 miles from Belden to Chester, fetch the car and then drive back to the trailhead in Quincy to pick me up (which could have been done in 2 hours in a private vehicle) than it took me to hike 20 miles. This saves us more than one full day in our schedule and allows him to continue hiking with me for one more section. I am grateful and happy to see him, frazzled though he is, pull up to the trailhead at 6pm. In Quincy, we are gifted lodging, showers and laundry by a dedicated Trail Angel named Pounder, and we are excited to be back on trail the very next morning. There is nothing like the feeling of heading down a brand new trail with everything you need for five days in your pack, perfect weather and a good friend. I feel so blessed.

The Longest Climb

The Last Last Day

Back to Burney: Facing the places that scared me