There are a lot of things I probably could or should have done with my free evening yesterday. As it was, I had barely enough energy to fix my filter, grab a shower, and sit watching a deer grazing on the lawn in front of the RV park. I went to bed early and was up just before the only cafe in town opened. I waited outside with another hiker, Big Sky, whom I have been playing leap frog with. We had breakfast together and were included in the morning chatter of several locals. Perhaps my judgement yesterday was unfair. After all, the guy I talked to was not representative of these kind folk, and when he arrived later he turned out to be very nice himself (if a little nuts).
After a large omelette and several cups of coffee I headed over to the post office and picked up my resupply box. Then, shouldering a depressingly heavy load, I headed out of town and began the ascent from hell. Actually, the first 2000 feet weren't all that bad. I put my legs on auto-pilot and distracted myself with the view. In this way I almost didn't notice I was hiking at all. After 2000 feet, though, the exertion became more noticeable. I decided to stop for a rest and see if my phone got better reception up on the ridge. I was able to make some calls, publish blogs, and snap a photo of Seiad Valley from half way up the climb.
My rest over, I resumed my climb, which shortly brought me out of the trees and into the hot sun. The temperature was in the mid to high 90s, and I began sweating buckets. I also noticed a smell of smoke, which explained the haze of blue hanging over the mountains to the south. Eventually I reached the top of the series of ridges, at a place called Kangaroo Springs (poorly named if you ask me - I didn't see a single kangaroo there).
Now on the way up I had passed a small rattlesnake on the trail, so all morning I had been keeping a close eye on where I was going. So after admiring the view I looked down to see a coiled rattler about a foot and a half away from me. I literally jumped, heavy pack and all, a few feet to my right. The rattler barely twitched. He just lay there staring at me. Since he was inches from the trail, I decided he might be a danger to anyone hiking behind me. I grabbed a handful of pebbles and tossed them toward the snake. I purposely missed by a few inches each time, intending to scare him but not hurt him. He didn't budge. His relaxed posture seemed to say "yeah? So what? I'm poisonous. What you got, ugly?" I got a stick, that's what. He seemed mildly more impressed as I poked him gently. Eventually he got the point that I wasn't going to leave him alone and he began to leisurely slither off. As he uncoiled I could see he was the biggest timber rattler I've ever seen. He was a light greenish-brown, the color of pea soup that's been left on the counter overnight, with a few darker rings near his tail. As he moved off I guesstimated him at 3.5 to 4 feet long, and about 2 inches in diameter. What an impressive creature! A few miles later I startled another rattlesnake off the trail, but it was nowhere near as beautiful as that timber rattler.
After the spring the trail dipped and climbed a bit before dropping steeply through forested hillsides to Cook and Green Pass. Then, with a groan, I started another hot climb - 1400 feet up the other side. Between the earlier climb and this one I had now taken on 6000 feet of uphill, all in the sun. As I neared the top every step became an excruciating struggle. I passed Big Sky, who had left town an hour before me and was now setting up camp. I managed to struggle on another mile to a spring before my body cried out for an end to the madness. And so I am camped near a cold mountain spring, a whopping (sarcasm) 20.5 miles completed for the day. Still, I figure with all the small climbs thrown in I managed to climb 7000 feet in that short distance. I had a choice, stop early and rehydrate or suffer tomorrow.
On a positive note, I have less than 1000 miles to go! The countdown can really begin now. Also, I will be in Oregon around midday tomorrow. A couple of good milestones to brighten an otherwise painful day.
