7/20/20; mile: 1,245; elevation: 4,920 ft.
Last night, as I was prepping my food and planning for today, I realized I kind of fucked up. I told Lionel to meet me at Quincy-LaPorte Road at 9:50am (a nod to our KTM 950’s). That means I need to get up really early to hump the 11 miles to meet him on time. But first I need sleep. And just as I’m dozing off, I hear singing. Loud singing. Mind you, I was deep in the trees by myself, but in quite a large tent site. And there wasn’t much else around due to the trees, downfalls and slopes. So I could tell that someone was hiking with earbuds and having quite a time of it. Then there was the flash of the headlamp as they arrived and scoped out the site. It was SOCO, and he was quite vocal about what a nice site it was. And he didn’t see my tent, I think partially due to the fact I didn’t have the rainfly set up. Once my sleeping pad made noise when I rolled over, my tent was frozen in the headlamp glare, like a deer. And then he was quite apologetic and got quieter.
Regardless of the lack of sleep, I was still up early (and maybe not as quiet as I could have been) and off to meet Lionel. Within a mile of camp, I had my first bear encounter. He/she must have heard me first, because they took off uphill on a log. It was the noise that startled me, because a bear’s ass isn’t much of a threat. Which works for me. Once it was a couple of hundred feet away and uphill, we just stared at each other for a while until I marched further down canyon.
Surprisingly, I got to road 20 minutes early, and there was Lionel. Besides the food box, he also brought me new insoles, solar panel and a Negra Modelo. It’s always beer-thirty. For the 30-minutes or so while were there, only two or three cars went by, and one of them was a highway worker. Don’t count on an easy hitch to Quincy on this road. Once I was done stowing everything, he not only volunteered to take my trash, but also give me a ride 1/3-mile down the road to the water source. There isn’t much worse you could do to a motorcyclist besides put him as a passenger on someone else’s bike. With my pack, it was even harder.
Thank you Lionel!
For the rest of the day, it’s basically downhill. Here, I reunite with Polar Bear and Bambi, whom I met at Donner Ski Ranch when we got off trail to resupply. As we hiked, I learned that they’re getting married in October and are trying to get as much of the trail banged out as possible. Late in the day, we all stopped for the last listed water source before reaching the Feather River, about 5 miles away. That’s too far for me today, and Guthooks doesn’t show any campsites along the way, so I start fretting about where to set up camp. One thing is for sure, though. I don’t want to be disturbed again like last night. There’s nothing near the water source (Fowler Creek), and the dirt road looks like it has fairly fresh tire tracks. I get back on the trail and finally find a spot off and above the trail, never been used before. The ground is covered in dead leaves and pine needles, there’s a log to sit on, and it’s quiet. Oh, and nice and warm too. As the sun starts to go down, I realize I need to set up the tent because of the mosquitoes. Where they’re breeding, I don’t know, but they’re pretty bad.
Later on, way after dark, I hear SOCO singing down the trail.