I stepped onto the platform in Truckee, California and the bright sunshine hurt my tired eyes. I spent the last 31 sleepless hours bouncing down the rails on an Amtrak train. My exhaustion was overwhelming but I was happy to be here. I chose to skip south from Cascade Locks, Oregon because I wanted to fulfill a life long dream and hike in the Sierra Nevada mountains before the fall snow storms arrived.
It was Labor Day weekend and the sidewalks bustled with vacationers. I desperately needed to sleep but there wasn’t a bed or campsite to spare anywhere in town. I walked down the highway into the setting sun and eventually hitched a ride. I trudged a mile out of Donner Pass and called it a day at the first campsite. The next morning I felt very weak and had a splitting headache. I couldn’t determine if it was the altitude or if I was getting sick and I thought it would be unwise to go deep into the wilderness in this condition. It was Sunday and I decided to camp one more night then return to town in search of a bed once the Labor Day crowds subsided.
The plan was a success and I spent two lazy days recuperating in Truckee. Once I was rested, the feeling hit me for the first time. “I think I might be ready for the next chapter in my life.” I said into the phone as I walked down the highway towards trail. My friend listened patiently as I thought aloud and came to the decision that the journey wasn’t over. If I hiked for a few more weeks and still felt this way then I would consider getting off trail. We said goodbye and I stuck my thumb out to hitch a ride back to trail. My second climb out of Donner Pass was much more enjoyable. I climbed quickly but stopped frequently to admire the setting sun behind me. I pressed on excited to see the trail that lay ahead.
The scenery over the next week was incredible but a stark contrast to the lush forests in Washington. The landscape was shockingly arid, a sandy soil crunched under foot as I walked, and trees stunted by this harsh environment bent in the powerful winds. One morning, I walked an open ridge with a near bird’s eye view of Lake Tahoe. I gazed at the distant ocean of blue as it glistened in the morning sun but soon continued on as uncomfortably cold gusts were cutting through me. The trail continued on in this manner for days. One moment I enjoyed an epic ridge top view and the next I plunged into an endless forest dotted with massive white boulders. Eventually, I found myself meandering past Velma, Fontanillis, and Dicks Lake. My pace slowed to a crawl as I stopped to savor these truly epic places.
Once again I spent most of my time hiking alone but I got to chat with awesome people at camp and during breaks. One afternoon I stumbled across quite the interesting family of six. This incredible husband and wife had managed to bring their four children on a PCT thru hike. I especially loved the father’s trail name Kidnapper. We played leap frog for much of the week and would always run into one another at breaks. One afternoon at Fontanillis Lake, Kidnapper relayed a warning from a backcountry ranger regarding dangerous bears between Dicks Pass and the highway to South Lake Tahoe. The news upset our camping plans for the following night and after our discussion I decided to hustle to the highway in the morning to find a ride to town.
I was up before sunrise and began my climb up Dicks Pass. I paused briefly at the top to bask in the warmth of the sunrise and then powered down the other side. When I reached the end of Lake Aloha, I ran into local couple and their two dogs. This husband and wife were two decades my senior but we had a great deal in common and struck up a conversation as we hiked together. We swapped big game hunting tales, stories about family, and health/fitness strategies. When we neared the trail head they offered me a ride to town and I gratefully accepted. Their generosity didn’t stop there. They gave me a tour of South Lake Tahoe, recommended restaurants, handed me a coupon to their favorite eatery, drove me to the front door of my motel, and even offered to drive me back to the trail in the morning. I was flabbergasted by their kindness. After a good nights sleep, I ran my errands then called my new friends, and before I knew it the wife and I were chatting as we drove back to trail. At the trail head I thanked her again and offered some gas money which she quickly refused. We said our goodbyes. Then I stood in silence staring at the ribbon of trail draped on the mountain before me. For a moment, my thoughts began to drift as I relived the incredible generosity I had just experienced. Then I pushed up the mountain determined to out run the storm clouds on the horizon.
