Start point

Sierra Buttes Road, mile 1203.5

End point

Mile 1214.6, backtracked and bailed at 1214.2

Miles hiked

11.1 trail progress, .4 backtrack, 3 to bail off trail.

Wilderness area

Plumas National Forest

Tahoe National Forest

People I met

Jess and Mary, sisters

Chaka and Giselle, friends working for Jess and Mary

Abdul, a foreign exchange student working for Jess and Mary

The day on trail

(Author’s note: the destination is redacted per their request so they don’t become a destination for hikers.)

What a day.

Ups, downs, further downs, and a nice ending despite it all. I wouldn’t care to repeat the third quarter of it, though.

The day started off nice. The snow wasn’t too bad at first. It was maybe a 400 yard stretch of snow that turned patchy. I saw deer early in the day, then mushrooms and some trail blazes between patches of snow. There were lots of deer tracks in the snow, too.

It was a really good morning and I was excited for it.

Soon I hit more snow. Snow that continued until I hit a road crossing to a trailhead network. It decimated the gate by the trailheads and swallowed the bollards.

I kept going and saw an overlook with some floating docks that looked almost like roofs of flooded houses at first.

I started just climbing uphill to avoid snowy slopes and connect higher points of trail instead of trying to traverse steep mountainsides. It was safer to navigate around tree wells than to try and not slide down a slope.

Part of that route found a tree with an interesting memorial. I figured it was a band of military brothers who were commemorating their lost comrades.

There was a small seat of rocks in a high saddle. I had a couple bars of service and called my dad for Father’s Day. He was concerned I was hiking this part solo, which was a little bit of concern for me, as well. But I’ve learned to make good decisions and turn around if needed. I’m not afraid to backtrack or hunker down. It was really great to talk with him.

Continuing on after a fulfilling lunch, I hit another large stretch of snow and decided to do some route finding to get past a steep section of snow on a mountainside. I walked uphill to follow a ridge. There was an older section of trail called the Packard Road Walk, which is what the PCT used to follow. It split off of the new PCT and I figured I could connect to it from the ridgeline. It’s the blue line here, where it crosses the red in the South.

It ended up being the right move. The blue route had a lot less elevation gain and loss, significantly less snow, and was really pretty. I was feeling really, really good.

The trail started to veer to the right, east, and I stayed on top of the ridge. The eastern slope had snow and the ridge would reconnect with the trail when it crossed left in front of the ridge.

The ridge was beautiful and fun to walk along. The trail weaved and bobbed along it, sometimes veering to the east, sometimes going along the ridge. It came to the part where the trail took a hard west, left, turn. There was a large snow cornice with about a 6’ drop to a snow ledge. After the drop I could see boot track going about 50’ along the ledge of snow to another rocky outcropping.

My hangup with this was twofold. First, the 6’ step down to the traverse looked dicey. The snow was getting slushy and I couldn’t trust it to hold me, especially as I was descending which causes more force than just walking in a straight line. Second, the traverse had no stop below it. If I slid down, again because of slush, that’d be it. I would stop about 500’ or so at the bottom of that mountain.

I climbed the rocky outcropping to my left to try and find a route around this traverse. All I could see was rocks I couldn’t scramble across to my left, the traverse to my right, and the mountain dropping off below me.

I walked around the rocky outcropping to the other side of the ledge to see if I could navigate around the other side of the mountain. It was impassible.

I walked back on the ledge about 1/4 mile before the traverse and followed the trail exactly to see if there was a better way to get on the traverse. There wasn’t. The trail dumped right onto the questionable steps.

I explored around the area to see if there was a way through more gently graded snow. There wasn’t. Any descent would have to be made up with an ascent worse than the two step descent on the cornice.

I could feel anxiety setting in. I didn’t like this at all and I couldn’t find a way around it. I didn’t want to go back to Sierra City because it was a terrible backtrack in snow.

I found a little bit of cell service and looked at Gaia GPS. I messaged Beth a lot; she’s a good sounding board when I’m freaking out.

I decided to set up camp on the ridge. This would allow the snow to freeze overnight. I also had a beautiful view of the Sierra Buttes and would be able to photograph the Milky Way over them. Finally, most importantly, I could give myself a pep talk in the morning with a clean slate and rested mind. This would allow me to fully assess the risk and either tackle it or turn around.

The ridge was super windy. I was having trouble setting up, as I couldn’t find any shelter from the wind. It took a bit to stake out my ground sheet, then the tent. As I got my tent pole in, and was setting up my rain fly, it happened. The wind snapped my tent pole in half and pulled the rain fly down over the sharp, broken edge of the pole, tearing a 2” hole in it.

That was it. My tent was broken. It was too windy to cowboy camp as it would blow my sleeping pad away as soon as I stood up.

I entered full meltdown. I threw rocks and shouted “fuck” repeatedly. It was not my finest hour but I was ground down and worn out. I wasn’t even scared, just angry and frustrated. Why didn’t I just jump to Quincy, the next town, or Chester? Why did I have to be so curious and look at things myself?

I messaged Beth and told her I needed to bail off the trail for the night. My tent pole splint didn’t fit around the broken pieces. I couldn’t make it work tonight.

The few intermittent bars of service allowed me to find a route on Gaia GPS. It would take a quarter mile of backtracking, then three miles of trail down to the road. I could cowboy camp at the trailhead down there tonight and hitch to a town tomorrow. Or I could try hitching tonight, but it was getting late.

I packed up. The wind had blown my groundsheet around which flung my tent stakes…somewhere. It took 20 minutes to find them. I started on my way down.

The walk down calmed me greatly. I saw what I think were cougar prints.

The snow was gently graded and I was able to softly shoe-ski my way down. It was easy to follow and simple to route find.

I saw a deer and played harmonica to it. It watched me, curious as to the sound I made, for a minute before awkwardly walking off.

There were some frozen lakes that were starting to thaw out. It was obvious these were common watering holes for many animals. There were so many tracks surrounding them.

I found the sign marking the final trail junction as the sun was dipping behind the mountains.

I passed a group of cabins with one large one, a lodge, that had a light on. Shortly after, I came to the trailhead which had a pit toilet. The floor under the awning in front of the toilet was flooded from snowmelt.

I made my way to the lodge with the light on. They had a big closed sign up. I heard people inside and knocked. No one came after a minute, so I knocked more assertively. A guy with a thick accent, which I later learned was Nigerian, answered the door. He was quickly replaced by Jess, a woman in her early 30s.

I told her I was a PCT hiker who had a massive gear failure and if I could get some water, then cowboy camp on her property. She invited me in, and my night turned from the worst day on trail to a wonderful evening.

She and her sister, Mary, ran the lodge. Their family owns it. They had Chaka and his friend Giselle, and Abdul from Nigeria helping with maintenance to get it ready to open. The heavy snowfall this year delayed their opening by at least a month, and they were doing all they could to get it ready.

They invited me in, gave me water and tea, and talked with me. Giselle hadn’t heard of the PCT and she peppered me with question after question. Mary and Jess asked me about what happened and how I was finding the trail. They told me of two past hikers who stumbled in and acted entitled to free services.

The real clincher was they offered to let me stay in one of their cabins for the night. I was ecstatic and incredibly ingratiated. I couldn’t believe their generosity. They said I was welcome to their kitchen tonight, which I declined, but would be able to make breakfast in the morning. They even offered to let me shower in the morning.

I couldn’t believe their generosity. It was overwhelming and I would’ve been on the verge of tears if I hadn’t been so shocked and shaken from the past five hours.

I went to the cabin, set an alarm for 6:30 am so I could help them around the grounds, made dinner, then brushed my teeth. Electricity worked, and they said I could charge my devices, so I plugged them in. Then I fitfully slept.