PCT Day 63 – SoBo Flip – Imaginary Hot Tubs and Cold Showers

Burney CA the town (mile 1411) to Communication Facility on Hat Creek Rim (mile 1391)

Total PCT miles hiked: 849

Due to our early start Keith (Starman) and I arrived at the Sierras when there was still a lot of snow, and decided it wasn’t safe to attempt a crossing given my skill level. We elected to flip up to northern California and hike southbound (SoBo) back to where we left off near Lone Pine – giving the snow a chance to melt out. During this flip the PCT milage will be counting down, but I’ll include a tally of our total milage hiked so that you can keep aprised of our progress in a linear fashion.

Even in May it’s hot on Hat Creek Rim. The sun shining down unimpeded by tree or cloud. Free to bake and stagnante without even a breath of wind to jostle the humid air through which we are currently wading. And it does feel like wading. The air is positively thick with moisture and heat; the vast sloping flatness of the rim seems to collect and focus the heat so that it is all around me and within me. The right side of my body is disproportionately hot as though by being marginally closer to the sun it’s receiving a noticably higher dose of radiation. What a place, I think, what a relief to be here in May and not July when the rest of the hikers come thru. Thank you thank you thank you to the gods of luck. As with many of small discomforts on the trail, it could always be worse.

The trail along the rim, and below in the valley we crossed beforehand, is flat. Over the course of our 20 mile day we’ll only climb 2,000 feet. 2,000 feet diced into dozens of micro climbs, 200 feet here, 30 there, up and over innumerable small rises and dips as the trail navigates this volcanic landscape. The black rock of ancient lava flows burst to the surface, forcing us to go around and over. Sharp pumice stone under our feet, scattered across the trail, slows progress that prematurely tires our feet. Toe stubbers, ankle breakers, knee strainers – every kind of rock on the trail; they say variety is the spice of life. It’s a long day, filled with small observations one doesn’t normally have the opportunity to make.

Encased in a car, train, or plane the air around you is stationary. The air outside the cabin is without concern, whipping along past the window like so many invisible torrents. Irrelevant. But when walking the air is no longer a constant, no longer uniform but instead a collection of small pools through which we’re walking. Some are cool, causing our pace to slow eliciting a sigh of relief like stepping into a cold shower after a hot day; you can almost but not quite pretend to be washing away the heat of summer. Other air pools are baking hot; where were you while I was freezing in the rain, when I was so desperate for warmth? Of course this hot tub of air was here, where the black rocks reflect the sun just right. As we crest the highest point on the rim a breeze kicks up, blending the pools together until the uniformity of an evening wind merges everything together. The sun is falling from the sky and taking with it the special air pools. And will they be rebuilt tomorrow? Or are they transitory like us? I guess we’ll never know.