Vacation from hiking vacation

We stayed in Sierra City for several days. Craig's parents had shipped his laptop to him. Before we left for this trip, he had submitted his master's thesis to the top journal in the field: Ecology, if you're up on that sort of thing. Thinking that it would likely just get rejected, and he could resubmit it to another journal in the fall. It was, however, provisionally accepted with revisions. Only trouble was, they gave him 6 weeks to complete those revisions. So Craig sat on the porch at the General Store doing science while I hung out with the other hikers.

Our new friends in Sierra City helping finish the "ruined" ice cream

Sierra City has a little church that lets hikers camp in its lawn and a sweet swimming hole on the river, and the store has WiFi and a deli and a big ole porch for sitting. To top it off, the power had gone out a couple days prior, so they were giving away all of the "ruined" ice cream for free. This is (literally) what us hikers dream about. So we stayed for three days, until the ice cream was gone. Our good friend Milkman had also just decided to go home, so we had extra motivation to hang around. He was planning to hitch to the nearest city, Reno, to arrange transport back home. Coincidentally, my good friend Elisa was visiting her boyfriend Patrick in Reno at the same time.

We had bid goodbye to all of our PCT friends in the last few days, because Craig and I had decided to skip 500 miles forward to Oregon, to relieve some of the pressure we were feeling to hike faster faster faster. It was a surprisingly emotional decision; we were leaving behind our trail family. And most of these dear, amazing people, we don't know their real names!

We made a sign to entice motorists to drive us to the biggest little city in the world. Actually we made two, because Milkman has trouble spelling tricky words like "hiker". We sat on the side of the road, smiling at cars as they passed, until our smiles probably looked as artificial as they felt. A few cars stopped, offering a ride to the next town, or for 2 of us, but we decided to hold out for a better ride. By 4:30, I gave up and called Elisa, asking her if they could plllleeeeaaaasssse come and pick us up. A couple hours later, Elisa and Patrick came prancing up like magic and we drove down the winding road towards the little city of sin, excitedly catching up.

Doberman the Doberman

In Reno, we ordered real pizza for delivery. Patrick asked, "Should we get one party pizza?" Us three hikers exchanged looks, "We should probably get two party pizzas." I fell asleep on the soft carpet drinking Coors and watching Labyrinth (David Bowie, not Pan's), waking up from the heat of being not-outside. The three of us quietly moved out to sleep on the patio under the stars. We spent the next two days in Reno, drinking copious amounts of coffee by day and beer by night, falling asleep to awesome movies in the company of not only Elisa and Patrick but also his roommate's dog, a giant Doberman named Doberman. He moved like a horse and would come closer and set his forehead on your leg, encouraging you to scratch his neck.

After three days in Reno, Elisa and Patrick dropped us off at a highway exit half hour north of the city, and left for northern California. It seemed desolate, like we'd made a terrible decision. It was hot, and the road was exposed and cars were moving at 65 mph past us. We were hours from the PCT, and in addition to our packs, Craig had his laptop in a plastic bag and a giant box to ship it in. Miraculously, within five minutes, a big RV pulled onto the shoulder. We could hardly believe it, and went running towards it with our unwieldy loads. Inside, there were four beautiful people from southern California on their way to a reunion. They were young, and we're blasting electronica on the speakers and drinking mimosas out of red solo cups. We slid into the table, and they offered us beer. For an hour, we all road together into Quincy, where they bid us good luck and headed south.

New CHACOS! Over 900 miles on the pair to the left

In Quincy, we again only waited for a few minutes before a car pulled off, offering us a ride part of the way to Belden. We were heading to Belden to the Braaten's house to pick up our resupply package, with essential items like new Chacos and contacts and maps- things we couldn't easily replace. This ride was from a middle-aged off-duty cop, heading to hot springs for the day. He dropped us off, and again! we got within minutes, from a guy who was actually heading to the Belden Resort for work, and knew the Braaten's so dropped us off right at their house. No one was around, but (per the welcoming sign) we let ourselves into the hiker corner and found our packages waiting. An hour or so later, the Braatens returned and Mrs. Braaten came in smiling with pint of cherry tomatoes, "Candy from the valley!" We explained our plan, to hitch to Chico and take a Greyhound bus to Ashland. She offered to drive us down to the trail, a mile west, and we gladly accepted. The road is narrow and winding, and there is no shoulder to walk on.

Scientist with his laptop in a plastic bag in Chico

At the trailhead, there was a electronica festival across the river, with copious amounts of young people lounging on floating rafts on the river. Once again, we got a ride within minutes, from a car of three college girls heading to Chico. They'd actually been partying in Reno for the weekend and were heading home. They dropped us off at a little motel close to downtown. We checked in and got giant burgers and beers down the road. I was getting fat from all of this not-hiking and eating.

The next day, we hit the coffee shops to load up on caffeine and WiFi again. This is a strange version of a thruhike. Another day later, we left Chico on a Greyhound bus heading north to Medford. More pizza, more hotels, more coffee, more internet. I was getting bored. Craig still needed more time for science, and I needed to hike. We made a plan to meet up in Crater Lake in a few days.