Week 14 was a week of both celebration and exhaustion. After 98 days, we finally made it out of California and into Oregon, but we worked our butts off (literally) to get there. As we neared the end of California, we were feeling every bit of the 1,690 miles we’d hiked, and those last couple days out of the state were no joke. But we freaking did it. One state down, two much shorter states to go!
Etna treated us well, but we couldn’t stay forever. After a delicious breakfast at Wildwood Coffee we hailed a ride and headed back to the trail. Don’t worry, we made sure not to ride with Molly again - one wild and harrowing trip through the mountains was enough. Our freshly-resupplied heavy packs and bellies full of town food made us pretty slow starting out, but we eventually found our groove. As we cruised down a hill midway through the day, I landed my foot on a subway sandwich shaped and sized rock. It rolled and I rolled right along with it. My heavy bag slammed me to the ground WWE Monday Night Raw style. I sideways somersaulted a few times before coming to a halt with my trekking poles still strapped around my wrists and pinned underneath me. With my arms stuck and the weight of bag on top of me, I was completely pinned. After Chris let out a half concerned/half annoyed “Jesus Christ!”, he helped me get unstuck and pulled me to my feet. We both thought I’d for sure broken something this time, but luckily it was just a few more scrapes and bruises.
The rest of the hike was uneventful, and we were grateful for that. We camped by a creepy abandoned cabin with old kids’ toys inside, covered in cobwebs and mouse turds. It was a bit unsettling, but even more unsettling was the herd of misfit mule deer that romped around the area. One had a large tumor-like growth on its side. Another looked like Nancy Pelosi if Nancy were a mule deer. They all had something weird going on.
The following day we hiked our longest day yet, 32 miles, into Seiad Valley - the final town along the PCT in California. Our legs and feet were screaming by the time we arrived, but the ice cream and the hot shower made it all worth it. The campground/trailer park we stayed at was about as redneck as a place can get. When we couldn’t find anyone working the desk to check us in, we went around back to check there. We were greeted roughly by a group of older men working on a four-wheeler with their shirts off and hairy beer bellies hanging out far over their waistlines. With toothless grins they offered to take our money and give it to the owner. We declined the offer.
The next morning we ate breakfast at the cafe. The food was bomb - worth all 90 minutes we had to wait for it. The entire cafe is run by a single lady. She waits tables, cooks all the food, buses tables, and tends the register, on top of all the other tasks that go along with running a restaurant. Then, with our bellies busting at the seams, we climbed one of the toughest climbs yet - California’s final f*ck you. The grade was stupid steep, and the heat was stupid hot. It felt more like swimming upstream through lava than hiking. We were too exhausted to make it to the campsite we’d planned for that evening and ended up pitching our tent in desperation in the middle of the forest, on top of sticks and rocks and pine cones and god knows what else. While attempting to cook dinner on the unlevel ground, I spilled boiling water on my foot. It didn’t feel great, but thankfully I only suffered a small blister.
We woke up excited and eager to hike knowing we only had about 15 miles before we’d reach the California/Oregon border. The border itself was underwhelming; it was just a wooden sign in the middle of the forest declaring the border, but we felt overwhelmed with pride and relief when we came upon it. We had a toast to California - all the good and all the bad - and a toast to what lays ahead, hopeful the remainder of the trail would treat us well. The terrain changed almost immediately. The trail flattened out, and instead of scorched forests we began hiking through lush green meadows. We set up camp about 9 miles from Callahan’s, the lodge we’d hitch into Ashland from.
With a gorgeous sunrise and fresh crisp air, the morning was perfect as we hiked toward the lodge. Eventually we hiked into cell range. When I turned on my phone, a ton of texts and Snapchats rolled in - I was an auntie! Roland Calian Kruse made his grand entrance into the world early that morning. I swiped through photos of my perfect little nephew, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more love than I did in those few moments. I was still smiling from ear to ear when we reached the lodge. We got a quick hitch into Ashland, and headed directly to the Morning Glory Cafe. We ate a fantastic breakfast with Amy and Paul, and Sticks and Walker - two of our other good mates on the trail. Then, like always, we were off to do chores, which took the majority of the day.
The next day was our zero day. After the world’s worst continental breakfast, Chris and Paul went to get their shaggy heads and faces trimmed up while Amy and I hit some of the shops downtown. Later on, we hit the town in search of dinner. Apparently there isn’t a whole lot open early in the week, but our forth stop finally panned out. We all rolled out of the restaurant, full to the tippy top, to the bar next-door. It was open mic night, and boy was it a hoot! We watched for hours as a mix of musicians and poets gave it their all up on stage. The bar happened to be English-themed, so Amy and Paul felt right at home, and Chris and I got to experience a few proper English drinks. It was the perfect end to our stay in Ashland.
Week 14 ended at mile 1,718. We have less than 1,000 miles to go, and oddly that doesn’t seem like too much. With the flatter terrain, we think we’ll cruise through Oregon fairly quickly. Making it to the northern terminus feels more and more possible everyday. We just have to keep humping!
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