Leapfrogging NOBO (PCT)

Bottom line: Hiking requires sweat equity and working body parts!

Primate celebrates the completion

of his first 1,000 miles on the PCT!

(He still needs to get to the car,

almost a mile downhill, however.)

6/27/26, Saturday (Day 0) - Prim8 and I rendezvoused with Mark R. (Wrong-way) at the Evergeen Hotel in Shasta City prior to commencing our sectional hike of the PCT from near McCloud, CA (Halfmile PCT Notes, mm 1474.5) to Etna Summit (Halfmile PCT Notes, mm 1581.0).

Our plan: Car camp to allow for day hiking (avoid carrying weight by packing overnight gear, food, bear canister, etc) by alternating our vehicles to "leapfrog" northward (NOBO) on the PCT, though hiking SOBO segments each day. As a result, we needed two sets of overnight gear (tents, sleeping bags, toiletries, etc), one set in each car.

Note: I continue to use PCT Halfmile marker designations, though while hiking, I relied on Wrong-way's references to a FarOut cell phone app. And the two references don't match! The important point for us is to hike the sections that we've not previously done, regardless of the mile marker system we're using!

6/28/26, Sunday (Day 1) - Cabin Creek Trail junction/Road 38N82 (mm 1486.5) to Road 38N53 junction (mm 1474.5, our southern most point on the PCT during this trip)

Following a hardy breakfast at the Black Bear in Shasta City, we parked my car near the trial, then drove Wrong-way's RAV 4 to the Cabin Creek Trail junction.

Beginning our SOBO hike at 10AM under clear skies and in a cold breeze, we soon adjusted to the temperature while hiking. I soon felt wet with sweat, so removed my fleece jacket, and replaced my wool skull cap with a broad-brimmed hat.

Immediately, Prim8 made it clear that he didn't appreciate the pain intensifying in my left leg. I'd figured my arthritic knee would be a problem, though was unsure as to what degree. Regardless, I hobbled onward. During the day, various parts of my left leg, from hip to foot, joined in the pain-fest, as if in a concerted effort to induce me to quit hiking.

Stop! Prim8 demanded.

Okay. You'll get no argument from me, fella.

I paused periodically to catch a breath, and in hopes of easing the pain. Alas, the pain subsided only slightly and briefly, building again once I continued on.

Wrong-way showed me a video and picture that he'd taken of a bear.

Bear! Prim8 gasped.

"I missed it," I said. Just as well, probably.

Can you see the lurking bear?

(Photo courtesy of Wrong-way)

5PM, we arrived at my car, then stopped in Shasta City for dinner, before continuing to Castle Crags State Park campground.

Contrary to my hopes, my leg ached all night, and I had difficulty sleeping.

6/29/26, Monday (Day 2) - Soda Creek/near Interstate Hwy 5 (mm 1502.7) to Cabin Creek (mm 1486.5)

Reloading our night's gear into my car, Prim8 filled with dread and not a happy camper, I knew something had to give. I'll try Advil, Prim8. That should take the edge off, at least.

We left my car at 7:15AM under a thin, high overcast. The cool temperature and breeze felt pleasant, even more so once I began to sweat. My leg discomfort seemed subdued, yet after an hour or so, the pain had returned to the previous day's intensity.

No, Prim8 griped.

We can tough it out, guy, I countered, fingers crossed.

We arrived at Wrong-way's vehicle at 4:15PM, Prim8 giving me fits over my continued left leg pain.

Once again, though in Wrong-way's car, we dined in Shasta City, then car-camped in Castle Crags State Park.

The temperature through the night was pleasant, yet I slept little, and poorly at that.

6/30/26, Tuesday, (Day 3) - Dog Trailhead (mm 1509.2) to Soda Creek/near Interstate 5 (mm 1502.7)

I discovered a blister had grown on the big toe of one foot and, on the other, a small toenail had irritated that reddened toe, despite wearing new boots!

No! Prim8 protested.

Perhaps, I should've broken these boots in beforehand, guy. But, at least, those particular pains are explained! The least of my issues, I trimmed the toenail and wrapped it and the offending blister with tape. As for my sore leg, I downed a couple of Advil along with my usual regime of script meds and supplements.

Breaking camp and repacking the car, we asked ourselves and each other questions such as, Where did I leave that?, Have you seen it?, and Did I put one in this car? We began to realize that tracking duplicate items, one in each car, would be a challenge.

"Hey Mark, remember the 'Catholic Sign of the Cross'? That might help." I gestured as I said, "Keys (car keys, of course), wallet (driver's license, credit card/money), water (for the day's hike), and filter (water filter)." Those constituted the bare essentials to carry, given our current circumstances!

Our day's hike started ~9:15AM from Dog Trail Junction in good weather and cool temperature.

I suffered the pain in my left leg, somewhat reduced by the Advil, while Primate periodically demanded, Stop!

Alright, alright. I usually needed to catch my breath and cool down, per my sweat-fest in full swing as the day's temperature increased. One step at a time, fella.

Wrong-way usually proceeded ahead of me, though waited at chosen spots for me to catch up.

Prim8 points the way

from the wooden bridge

at Winton Canyon Creek.

1:50PM, we arrived at my car at Soda Creek/near Interstate 5 (mm 1502.7), Prim8 screaming about my on-going leg ache.

We headed to Shasta City for some cooked food (and beer, of course), then onto the Gumboot Summit Junction.

"Maybe, we should start our hikes earlier," I opined. "Before sunrise," I added.

Wrong-way agreed, though Prim8 wasn't keen.

Once again, overnight temperatures were pleasant, as I squirmed inside my sleeping bag, shielded from blood-suckers by one-man "Bug Hut." My leg ache just wouldn't quit.

7/1/26, Wednesday (Day 4) - Gumboot Trailhead (mm 1526.7) to Dog Trail junction (mm 1509.2)

Usual routines of breaking camp completed, following our 6AM wake-up, we hit the trail as an array of dawn colors filled the sky.

The downhill portion of the day's segment (some 3,500 feet) felt torturous as my leg-ache increased to a near-intolerable level...and sooner...despite helpings of Advil. Sun rays beat down upon us off and on, and, by Wrong-way's best estimation, the temperature rose to 90 degrees.

Castle Crags as seen

from the west.

Near the end of our day's hike, about 2.5 miles remaining, Wrong-way offered to carry my pack.

Prim8 didn't complain, and I relented, saying, "I don't want you to feel that you need to babysit me." Something's gotta change, Prim8.

I resolved that I'd schedule an appointment with my orthopedist to replace my offending joint, which he'd told me he would do, "...whenever you're ready."

Once at Wrong-way's RAV, we drove to Shasta City for dinner...including beer, before procuring a campsite in the local KOA. Once our camp was set up, we availed ourselves of showers, which for me consisted of rinsing off my residual stink and donning my same sweaty clothing. (I didn't have soap nor clean clothes in Mark's car!)

7/2/26, Thursday (Day5) - Parks Creek Road junction (mm 1540.7) to Gumboot Trail junction/Hwy 26 (mm 1526.7)

At 9:25AM, we left Mark's car in the ample parking area at the road junction, then headed southward in excellent hiking weather.

Unshielded from the sun, the air temperature rose and we were slow-cooked as the day progressed.

A well-deserved lunch break at noon, and about 5 miles along, helped gird me for the remaining 9 miles of the day's hike to my car.

Wrong-way photographs a

few of the many wildflowers

blooming along the trail.

Throughout the day, we were treated to gorgeous views, and my leg pain, though still present, seemed slightly more tolerable. I couldn't determine why, of course, nevertheless felt glad that it hadn't grown worse.

One of the many views

of Mt. Shasta along the trail.

Clouds building, we reached Gumboot Trail junction/Hwy 26 at 5:30PM, fingers crossed that our good weather would continue.

We spent the night under a bright, full moon at Kangaroo Lake campground. Once again, pain in my leg and toes interrupted my sleep.

7/3/26, Friday (Day 6) - Cooper Meadow Trail junction/near Kangaroo Lake campground (mm 1552.8) to Parks Creek (mm 1540.7)

We arose to a clear sky and cool temperature, and started up Fen Trail to the PCT junction, about 1 mile away, at 7:40AM.

Six, or so, NOBO through-hikers passed us in irregular intervals, some chatting with us, some rushing by with little more than a Howdy-do.

At one point, struck by hikers wearing hoodies, I said to Wrong-way, "I don't understand how anyone can stand wearing those in this heat." I grasped the concept of compromise, and hauling fewer articles of clothing, while getting protection from the sun's rays. But still...the heat!

"I guess those are all the rage, now," he replied.

During one rest stop in the shade, Wrong-way noted the temperature to be 65 degrees. It certainly seemed warmer to me!

Our day's hike completed at 3:25PM, we drove to Weed for dinner...and beer, of course. Afterward, we headed to our next car-camp site at Hwy 3/Scott Mountain Summit (mm 1561.2).

Several hours of daylight remaining, and hoping to shorten the next day's segment length, we drove up a nearby gravel road. Thwarted by a locked gate, where numerous parked cars lined both sides of the narrow road, Wrong-way wasn't to be deterred. With his car parked close to the gate, we bushwhacked upslope until we reached the PCT...and right at the Trinity Alps Wilderness boundary (mm 1563.8).

As per the next day's hike itinerary of over 19 miles, and well aware of my leg issue, Wrong-way suggested, "You could hike an additional 2.6 miles segment today to the Highway 3 junction...if you're up to it." (The latter emphasized.) I can do this segment tomorrow, while you wait there with my day pack."

And, though Prim8 catastrophized, I said, "Okay. Seems easy enough, especially without a day pack."

I headed off towards the Hwy 3 junction (mm1561.2) from the Trinity Wilderness sign (mm1563.8).

7/4/26, Saturday (Day 7) - Hwy 3/Scott Mountain Summit trail junction and campground (mm 1561.2) to Cooper Meadow Trail junction/near Kangaroo Lake campground (mm 1552.8)

Wrong-way drove off at 7AM to hike from near the locked gate to the Hwy 3 trail junction where I waited.

In short order, we continued together toward my car at Kangaroo Lake campground some 9 miles on under a cloudless sky with a light breeze. The temperature hovered around 60 degrees, which felt pleasant initially. However, the rising temperature of around 90 degrees, coupled with a clear sky and scarce shade, induced sweating as we hiked.

Can you guess

what this is?

One deer, lying on the trail, arose as we approached, then wandered down the trail until it reached brush, moved off the trail a few feet, and began to browse. I couldn't help but appreciate, and feel awed, that the deer wasn't afraid of us.

Checking us out.

(Who, me in a hurry?)

After the 1.25-mile downhill slog along Fen Trail, we reached my car at 3:22PM. Straight away we drove to Callahan, where we had dinner, and...you guessed it...cold beer.

Only one reason that

I love visiting saloons!

From there, we located an unoccupied horse camp some miles drive away. I wondered about the odds of stepping in droppings as I parked adjacent to a hitching post.

Settled in early, about sunset, we hoped to rise at 3:30AM for another earlyish start.

The night temperature proved pleasant as the waning moon advanced across the sky.

7/5/26, Sunday (Day 8) - Carter Meadows Summit/Hwy 93 trailhead (mm 1581.0) to Trinity Wilderness boundary sign (mm1563.8)

I'd had a pleasant night, though not without some leg discomfort. By this point, I'd concluded that was a new norm, at least during this trip. More Advil, please!

We started our day's hike at 4:30AM. Once the sun had risen, thin, high clouds helped shade us...somewhat.

We encountered deadfall trees on numerous occasions, which necessitated awkward clambers over the larger, more inconsiderably placed, trees.

Wrong-way assisted me over a number of the more difficult ones, and at one point referred to my hiking pole as a"cane."

Am I that decrepit? I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, and, being thankful for the assistance, said nothing.

One of the many spectacular

views along the trail.

The day had grown hot before we finished our marathon hike of 11 hours, I felt knackered and relieved.

We stopped in Callahan a second time (nearest town on our route) for a beer! Then, we proceeded to Etna, where we consumed a cooked meal, along with more beer. We recognized a number of NOBO through-hikers whom we'd passed on the trail, though we didn't converse with them. (They appeared occupied with their acquaintances.)

7/6/27, Monday (Day 9) - Music Creek Trail junction (mm 1592.9) to Carter Meadows Summit Trailhead (mm 1581.0)

Up at 4:30AM, we drove 9 miles to the parking area of Music Creek nearest the PCT. At 6:05AM, we missed the trail leading to the PCT initially, so backtracked to the parking area before spotting it as it headed off at an oblique angle.

"No wonder we missed it," I said to Wrong-way.

With thin, high clouds above, and in a cool, light breeze, we switch-backed through burned forest and low brush for about 1 mile, until we reached the PCT junction at 7:10AM.

Some segments of trail crossed rock faces.

Prim8 ponders the trail ahead.

We finished our day's PCT hike of 11.9 miles at 3:30PM. Without delay, we drove to Etna for a dinner and beer, then on to Idlewild Campground to spend the night.

We planned for another early start, with a wake-up at 4:30AM, in order to beat the heat...or at least some of it.

It seemed hot, though I had no way to know the temperature for sure.

7/7/26, Tuesday (Day 10) - Etna Summit/Sawyers Road junction (mm 1600.7) to Music Creek Trail junction (mm 1592.9)

Following our routines of sorts, we broke camp, then headed off for the Etna Summit/Sawyers Bar Road junction (our northern most point on the PCT during this trip)

The sky was cloudless when we left the car at 5:50AM. The trail ascended about 3,000 feet over the next 3.5 miles, and my leg pain remained at a constant level, and mostly tolerable. As it turned out, my leg functioned quite well on the uphill, though I loathed the upcoming descent.

Again, we were treated to gorgeous views of the mountains and valleys eastward.

Sure enough, my leg pain increased as we descended, but I knew I could tough it out. Had to!

Prim8 celebrated our achievement of hiking our first 1,000 miles on the PCT when we arrived at the Music Creek trailhead, despite the fact that we still faced a descent to Mark's RAV nearly a mile away. That seemed to take forever, though we arrived at 11:35AM.

Knackered, Prim8 and I headed to Red Bluff for the night, and hopefully a good shower, restful sleep and breakfast before driving the remaining several hundred home. (Still a long drive!)

7/8/26 - Still knackered when I arrived home, I sought out my recliner in order to begin recovery.

Distance covered on the PCT this trip: Road 38N53 trail junction near the McCloud River (mm 1474.5) to Etna Summit/Sawyer Road (mm1600.7) 126.2 miles! A considerable distance, in light of my left leg problem. Thus, our accumulated miles on the PCT passed 1,000 miles on our last day's hike.

Time to junk the old knee, and opt for a newfangled trade-in!

Note: Though we spotted numerous animal species, we encountered no trail angels. Apparently, they don't exist in northern California!

Walk in beauty.

Slowly Making Headway (PCT)

Bottom Line: What goes up, always come down . . . usually in an undulating fashion.

Prim8 (Primate) points the way.

(Photo credit: Mark R.)

3/30/22 (Silverwood Lake to Power Lines) - Mark and I rendezvoused at the Cajon Junction McDonald's at 6AM, per plan, while the black of night and the cold temperature suggested winter, rather than spring.

Following the purchase of coffee and a breakfast snack, we drove to the terminus of our day’s hike, located several miles off the paved road, and parked my car under a power line tower at PCT mile marker 340.5. Then, we carpooled, down the ungraded rock cluttered and rutted road, continued over civilized roadway to our starting point at the Silverwood Lake day use parking area.

We’d start in pleasant cool temperatures, but with an unobstructed sun everything would warm soon enough.

“Feels pleasant at the moment, “ I told Mark.

* * *

The trail led us on a semi-navigation around Silverwood Lake, past Cleghorn Picnic Area, then under Hwy 138, all the while temperatures rose to the mid-70’s.

My legs and feet complained.

Fingers crossed, Prim8, that we don’t have a major problem coming on.

* * *

When we’d arrived at my car, PCT mile marker 340.5, “Not bad, “ Mark said, once he finished his calculations. “We hiked 2.4 mph, if we include our lunch break, and 2.7 mph without.”

“Yeah, pretty good,” I said. Fairly respectable, don’t ya think, Prim8?

Sore, Prim8 moaned.

Let’s hope it isn’t worse tomorrow, Prim8.

The elevation gains and losses along an undulating trail are nothing to laugh about. Though the differential elevations of our day’s start and finish amounted to 670 feet, we’d gained 987 feet at the highest point. Worse, the trail inevitably headed up, then down as it snaked through the mountains.

After a Mexican dinner in Phelan, I settled into my hotel room for the night at Cajon Junction and fell asleep with little difficulty.

(Our day’s distance? 17.8 miles.)

3/31/22 (Power Lines to 3N31 / Crossing I-15, southbound) - My phone alarm sounded all too early, as is always the case for me at 5:30AM.

Again, Mark and I rendezvoused at McDonald's for some light breakfast and coffee.

Let’s not make this a habit, I thought.

This time, however, my gear occupied my trunk, as we would relocate farther along the trail after today’s hike.

As today’s objective appeared more downhill going southward, than going northward, we opted to reverse our general hike direction.

I’m not a purest! Either direction will work for me, as long as I hike every mile. Even if I skip a section here or there, and hike them out of sequence.

We left my car at mile marker 340.5—same as yesterday—then drove Mark’s four-wheel drive SUV to our starting point at mile marker 356.2, a junction with an unpaved road, designated 3N31.

We started our hike at 7:40AM, my feet and legs recuperated from yesterday. Cool temperature with occasional breezes helped ward off an out-of-control sweat fest, and as well reduced my body’s demand for water.

All part of the plan, as a calculated risk, we carried less water—the bulk of weight in many a pack.

“Wrong-way” Mark poses at a water

cache at the Swarthout Canyon Road

junction. I counted seventy-one

one-gallon water jugs and most

were full. We required none,

however.

If large animal encounters in the wilderness are a hiker’s concern—lions, tigers and bears, oh my—maintaining a supply of water, a constant and underlying consideration, dominates all decisions.

For most of the day we hiked in the open, with only occasional shade from trees.

As yesterday, we maintained a respectable pace, though I admit I slowed on a number of the uphill portions, particularly as the day progressed.

Prim8 spies I-15 in the distance.

(Photo credit: Mark R.)

The trail descended towards the highway, though rather than taking a straight path and in keeping with the PCT trail route designers sense of humor, we crossed over one railroad track, then under another via a culvert. Who thought that up?

Prim8 reaches for mile-marker

420 on the culvert wall.

(Photo credit: Mark R.)

About noontime we passed under I-15 via another culvert, even wider and made of concrete. One serious drainage structure, indeed.

Wouldn’t want to face this after a serious rain, Prim8.

I tiptoed through what appeared to be a trickle of water, inches deep, as my eyes adjusted to the tunnel’s low-light conditions. I followed Mark’s route, angled towards and hugged one side, hoping an unseen hole with my name in it wasn’t lurking.

After existing the culvert, we

passed “the sign.” (Famous or

infamous? I can’t say.)

Mark and I parked our behinds on a nearby picnic table—how convenient!—on the eastern side of I-15 and just feet beyond said sign.

“Would you hike to McDonald’s from here?” Mark asked.

“No way, I’d hike there today,” I retorted. Who knows, if I’d been hiking the trail for a few days?

Yeah, milkshake, french fries, Prim8 said.

You’re just a glutton, Prim8.

As Mark and I munched our uncooked food, we watched traffic move along the highway and the trucks headed uphill as they queued at the weigh station.

Though we’d lose elevation overall on today’s section, we’d gained elevation here and there, but between I-15 and my car, we were on an uphill leg again.

Up, down, up, down. If that isn’t a PCT hiker’s motto, it’s their bane.

Why are we doing this, Prim8?

Not relishing the remaining elevation gain for the remainder of today’s stretch, but looking forward to my car’s softer seat, I felt ready, mostly, to push on when we’d eaten our fill.

* * *

At my car near 2:20PM, Mark reported, “We made good time, 2.2 mph, if we include our lunch break, and 2.7 mph, if we don’t.”

“Like yesterday,” I said. I’ll take it, Prim8. No questions asked.

Driving the ungraded rock-cluttered and rutted road to retrieve Mark’s seemed less of good idea as my car’s undercarriage scraped and banged against rocks.

Mark’s comments reflected his growing concern as we crawled up the road. Finally, he said,

“I’m concerned about this. Turn around here and I’ll walk the remaining distance to my car.”

“Are you sure?” I said.

Though willing to offer my car’s best effort, I wasn’t gonna argue Mark’s idea.

“Okay’” I said.

“Go on down. Wait for me at the road junction,” he said.

My drive down didn’t seem as bad as the drive up.

* * *

Once we’d rendezvoused again at the junction with Swarthout Canyon Road, we headed to Santa Clarita.

Mark had explained to me earlier, referring to the next 60-odd mile northbound stretch, “Accessibility to the next sections of trail looks problematic and we’ll encounter snow.”

Colder, slower, more gear. “Whatever we miss now we can fill in later after the snow melts,” I said in agreement. No need to torture ourselves, Prim8.

Who was I kidding? My legs, feet and knee were getting tortured . . . and plenty, snow or no snow.

* * *

We checked into our hotel rooms in Santa Clarita, showered, jaywalked the street for dinner, then prepared for another early hike start tomorrow.

I mulled over my gear options. What to carry? Do I need my larger, expedition pack? Or can I stuff everything into my day pack? Would tying my sleeping bag to the top of my day pack work well enough?

Planning for an overnighter on the trail, with a hike distance of 27 miles between our vehicles, we both wanted to haul as little weight as possible. No way I’d hike that distance without a significant rest stop.

I opted to use my day pack, go bivy style, as the weather predicted no rain. I stuffed my pack with a thin ground cover, an inflatable sleeping pad, and tent fly to keep dew off my sleeping bag—just in case—as well as a long-sleeved wool shirt, a thin rain jacket and dried food. Then, I added about one-and-a-half gallons of water.

Jeez Louise, water is heavy!

Finally, I tied my lightest, and newest high-tech, sleeping bag onto the pack using a bit of cord Mark had given me. Needless to say, most of the weight of my load consisted of water. No stove, no tent, only the barest of essentials, bearing in mind elevation, likely nighttime temperatures and an absence of precipitation in the weather report.

4/1/22 (Into the Wilderness: Mill Creek Summit to Messenger Flats Campground) - Up before the sun, again, we consumed a hardy meal at a Denny’s before our wilderness overnight experience.

Last meal for a condemned man? I wondered.

My car parked at Indian Canyon Trailhead, Mark drove us to the Mill Creek Summit Fire Station at PCT mile marker 418.6, where the paved road, N3, crests a pass on its southbound way towards Greater Los Angeles.

Though quickly tired by the immediate, and generally sustained, ascent of nine hundred feet, I hiked along at a decent pace—I thought—while Mark left me in the proverbial dust.

No surprise, my feet and legs complained from the start. Wouldn’t let up.

What do I need to do, Prim8? At least my feet haven’t started a blister convention.

I slowed my pace here and there to catch my breath and allow my bones a short rest, while Mark forged ahead without problem.

Trees, downed by strong winds, no doubt, blocked the trail occasionally, and provided me opportunity to catch my breath while Mark cleared selected branches.

A grand vista with a reminder

of past conflagrations.

Cresting a hill or arriving at a pass is cause for many a hiker to celebrate. Well, me for sure. Every hiker understands the joy of a change of pace, where the trail’s grade changes, sometimes upward, sometimes downward, sometimes leveling. Whatever provides a change of the stresses and demands on muscles and joints can bring some relief, if only temporary.

Yay, we’re almost there, Prim8.

When I caught up to Mark at the pass, our day's highpoint, where he’d paused for a rest break—and allowed me to catch up, I suspected—“I think that’s Messenger Flat Campground down there,” he said.

“Yep,” I said, “has to be.” I hoped so, anyway.

Switchbacks down the 45-degree slope for about a half-mile led to a dirt road which, within a short distance, passed a telltale area, flat with scattered tall trees and clear of brush.

“Looks like there are buildings down there,” Mark said.

I pulled a long stare, scanning for signs of life, though seeing none, said, “I think you’re right.”

* * *

I coasted downhill—felt like I did, anyway—along the switchbacks, though I remained acutely aware that select parts of my body took issue with my hiking.

Got to? Prim8 asked.

Suck it up, fella. No choice, I replied.

Mark and I had the campground to ourselves when we arrived at 2:30PM, PCT mile marker 430.4.

Presently, several issues arose. What to do about a possible bear visitation in the night? Where should we locate our bivy bags?

After surveying the area, I elected to bivy next to a fallen tree. “That tree will help keep the wind off,” I explained to Mark.

He placed his sleeping gear near mine. “I’m going to leave my pack and food in the outhouse,” he said.

“Hmm, good idea,” I said. “I hadn’t thought of that. No way a bear could get in there. Bears aren’t stupid. They manage to break into cars when they spy food through a window.”

Dinnertime came early, our feast consisted of uncooked foods. Mark primarily chowed on meat sticks of various flavors, while I polished off my lunch leftovers of a hunk of cheese, salami slices and piece of bread.

“I think I deserve some dessert,” I told Mark, and sucked the contents from a vanilla-bean flavored GU Energy Gel packet.

When I hung my pack next to Mark’s on a convenient hook inside the toilet stall. That door will keep ‘em out, Prim8. I doubt there’s a bear around who can turn a doorknob.

Other hikers began to arrive as if in a drawn-out queue. By dusk six northbound thru-hikers had swelled the campground occupation to eight.

Mark and I socialized with two hikers from Europe, and exchanged tidbits of information about the trail condition, both ahead and behind. They were pushing hard and several days earlier had hiked through the snow conditions that Mark and I had so easily by-passed by car.

Better you than me. I knew the advantages and relative ease of day hiking will disappear somewhere up the trail, when I’ll pound ground and face overnight camping for more than one night at a stretch. And Mark and I, knowing we needed to prepare, we’re using this overnight hike as a learning opportunity to provide us answers to logistical issues we’ll face.

One of the two European hikers had run out of food, while the other’s supply neared its end.

Not a good thing, Prim8.

Though they indicated they would resupply in Acton tomorrow, Mark and I contributed some of our dried food to the needier of the two.

No reason not to do so. What goes around, comes around, I reasoned.

At a respectable time, I tucked into my sleeping bag with two Ibuprofen on board, hoping they would alleviate the aches and pains in my lower extremities, particularly my knee. My feet felt reasonably good. Apparently, my latest gear selection had helped prevent a major outbreak of blisters.

At least some things were going my way, though for a hiker there’s always tomorrow’s challenges.

4/2/22 (Return to Civilization: Messenger Flats Campground to Indian Canyon Trailhead) - Snug and comfortable at first, I hoped for sweet dreams in the wilderness. The sounds of the breezes, as well as humans in the campground, quieted.

Aroused by the unmistakable arrival of a vehicle, followed by opening and closing doors, I wondered what would come next.

Great! A noisy, rowdy, unsympathetic group, unappreciative of a hiker’s day’s toil, gonna keep me awake?

Silence returned shortly after, however, and yet, I could hardly return to sleep.

Crap, why are my feet cold? I’ve got my socks on.

Worse, I verged on shakes and shivers. Verged, I say, not shaking or shivering, but wondering when that might start. Well, one question answered. Clearly, my bivy configuration won’t cut it when temperatures drop below the 40’s.

Regardless, I laid there, if for no other reason to rest as much as possible, while I pondered how to warm my feet. Wiggling my feet occasionally didn’t work. Not one iota.

* * *

“Connard, time to get up,” Mark said.

“Okay,” I responded. May as well, Prim8. Won’t get warmer laying here.

In the dark, and knowing it would take a few minutes to warm up with activity, I considered that preferable to feeling chilled with inaction. Besides, we had miles to go before we slept again.

The through-hikes gone,I spotted two vehicles the parking area, while a tent stood nearby.

Pleased that I’d re-stuffed my day pack with gear in short order, I listened as Mark chatted with weekend campers who’d soon have the area to themselves.

Chat-fest over, Mark pulled out his supply of pain meds. “Want an Ibuprofen? Or two?” he said to me.

“Just one,” I said. “Might help take the edge off, but I don’t want to over do it.”

We walked away from the campground about 6:15AM.

Crud, my knee’s already complaining, Prim8. Hope this isn’t going to be a major problem for my future hiking.

The weather continued to be mild, as predicted. Though the sun glared steadily in a cloudless sky, periodic breezes and tall trees on the north-slope sections of the trail helped me remain cooler, and reduced my need for water.

But the trail didn’t relent. Up, down, up, down.

More than once I cursed those who’d laid out the trail route. Some perverse since of humor . . . or sadism?

The views helped compensate for my misery as I trudged along, Mark usually some distance ahead.

Sunrise over Soledad Canyon.

As is the case, the trail moves on to other terrain, with the scenery of a different ecosystem, confronting the hiker with different challenges.

Looking towards the Vasqeuz

Rocks formation, as best I could

tell, the scenery appeared bleak.

Not infrequently, I cajoled myself. Around the next bend, Prim8 . . . over this next rise . . . the next patch of shade . . . pause to take a photo . . . time for a swallow of water. . . . The need to motivate myself remained never-ending.

Slow means success, Prim8. At least, I hoped it did. And I tracked my water consumption, knowing I lightened my load with each swallow, at the same time calculating the distance to the creature comforts, and water, awaiting at my car. You know, creature comforts like conforming yourself to a plush seat with the backrest reclined and legs outstretched, while blasted by a copious breeze.

Mark paused at a trail, dirt road junction.

I spotted my car, some half-mile distance down the road and perhaps a thousand feet lower in elevation, even before Mark pointed it out.

“See your car down there?” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, relieved.

“I think we need to follow the trail from here,” he said, “rather than take the road.”

“I wouldn’t want to take the road and find out the trail ended up there anyway,” I said.

Down now, Prim8 insisted.

No way, Prim8.

I hated to continue along the trail, lose sight of my car, and contour around the mountain. But, bound and determined, I wasn’t gonna cheat. I don’t want to reclimb this hill later, Prim8.

Plodding along, I knew, or trusted so, each step brought me closer to my car, though Prim8 protested, Wrong way, wrong way.

Just a little farther, Prim8!

When I rounded the mountain, where the trail runs nearly vertically above the paved road, I sighed with relief.

Almost there, Prim8. Let’s not fall off the mountain, though.

A few additional belabored steps and I reached my car at PCT mile marker 444.1.

We’d done it, one step at a time! Our overnight trek amounted to 25.5 more miles.

(Prim8’s accumulated PCT progress: 381.7 miles.)

Walk in beauty.