The north wind that blew out the smoke also blew in dampness and fog.
Trees caught the moisture and dripped it in a steady drizzle along the trail into town. There were some fine last views of Mt Shasta in between the cloud banks.
I sent my resupply box to Callahan’s a resort just half a mile off the trail. I joined other hikers there for breakfast (and the free beer offered to PCT hikers). Although I had planned to stay there, I changed my mind after hearing that the shower was sketchy thanks to the cold water being stuck in the full “on” position.
When trail angel Chanty (a prolific picker of chanterelle mushrooms) arrived to offer rides into Ashland, I readily hopped in and got a ride to the Timbers Motel. Although he initially refused, I left a $20 in his car, as anyone who gets a trail angel ride of any distance should do.
After a few hours of showering and laundry, I ambled over to the lively downtown area where there are several breweries. I’d hoped to score a last-minute ticket to Ashland’s famous Shakespeare Festival, but my timing was off and there were no shows that night. I had to settle for updating my journal while sipping Oregon craft beers.
The hiker vortex that had been centered downtown whooshed into the brewery about 6pm or so. The cornhole sets got dragged out and I was able to make a fair accounting for myself, holding the court through multiples sets of partners and opponents. BC was there, and I got the chance to buy him a beer as thanks for rescuing my boxer shorts a few days ago. Also Big Red, the “Unicycling Unicorn” who cycled a few days ahead of me on the Arizona Trail in 2017. There aren’t that many long-distance hikers in the world, and it’s not unusual to run into hikers you have met before on other trails.
I decided to zero in Ashland the next day — it would be the last actual town on my itinerary. There is a hot springs resort just north of town (Jackson Wellsprings) that also offers camping, so I took the short bus ride up, intending to camp and soak.
But the springs were closed (it was Monday) and the camping area was a weedy lot right next to a very busy highway. I took the bus back into town, hung out with my friend Princess for a while in the park, and then hitched back to Callahan’s to spend the night. Unfortunately the restaurant and bar were closed, and the camping area was a grassy island in the middle of a parking lot, and the parking lot was illuminated by bright streetlights all night long. Not the most restful place to sleep.
Pilot Peak rises above the dry forest outside Ashland
So I was up and out pretty early, making the climb south and east from Siskiyou Pass back in to the higher mountains. Smoke built through the day, as did the heat. Much of the hike was through arid oak and pine forests separated by meadows dried to a crisp by the drought.
The smoke moves back in
I hauled up for the night near one of the few sources of water, the outflow from Little Hyatt Reservoir. The water was low and distinctly skanky, but there was no other water on offer, so I treated it with chlorine dioxide drops and made the best of it.
The evening’s entertainment was provided by a frisky yearling blacktail deer. It dashed through the creek meadows once, and I was on the lookout for a lion or other predator that might be stalking it. But then it dashed back the way it had come. And then diagonally across the creek. And then back again. In all it made 6 or 7 passes through the forests and meadows, all by itself, until it apparently tired of its game. I tried to get some pictures, but I was not quick enough or alert enough as it whizzed by.
I did get some pictures of grouse stalking the forest floor however: