IN THESE WOODS: DAY 116: SO LONG, CALIFORNIA

miles: almost 30

Last night when we reached the top of the Seiad Valley climb, there was zero camping. No flat spots, no rock-less spots, nothing. We heard laughter in the bushes and Wildfire, White Lighting, and Pimp Limp were watching Hulu together on their phones in the dark, all nicely cuddled up real close. They had managed to find some spots in the bushes to camp, but we were out of luck. And it was pitch black by the time Ben, Manchurian and I got there. So? We camped in a line on the trail.

I hate cowboy camping.

Our beds last night.

I really despise cowboy camping. I don't know what it is about it, but I feel very vulnerable, exposed and uneasy. I know this is something I should overcome, but at the end of a long day, I just don't want to do it. Ben slept at my feet (line style, as pictured above) and I kept kicking him all night because I would slip down into him. In short - I got very little shut eye**. Also, I was wet with condensation when I woke up. Everything wet. This led to a very brief period of hiking during a near mental break down. Walking always cures everything, and by the time it was 11:00am I was completely fine.

** The stars WERE beautiful though.

Sunrise haze of smoke, yes, we are still in the smoke.

Excited for our last miles of California, we were motivated to move move move move move! The miles flew by, but there were a few things that got in my way. One being this cow:

Surly cows.

I haven't spoken too much about the cows of Northern California.

There are cows in Northern California. MANY MANY MANY herds of cows. Down in valleys, up on ridges, up on Hat Creek Rim, in the trees, in the bushes, all over the place. Many of them are laden with bells so you can hear them when they are near, but some don't have bells. Not sure what the deal is there, but these cows can be aggressive at times. The cow pictured above was one of these irritated bovine and did not like having us on his trail. I witnessed him lunge towards Wildfire and kept my distance until he moved on. I left a note on the trail for others as to warn them of his hostile nature. I hear, although rare, they can really hurt you.

The first time I heard the cowbells of Northern California, we were entering the Trinity Alps, actually. This seems counter-intuitive... why are there cows in "pristine" wilderness areas? Why is it that, all of the areas that are protected and wild have clumsy, dirty, bovine dancing around depositing feces in all of our drinking water? Why? It has been irritating, to say the least.

If I had to describe the smell of Northern California, it'd be that of cow poop.

There were a lot of these barren landscapes.

Check out that cairn.

Cow patties E V E R Y W H E R E

Actually, in this last section, there has been an increase in cow activity and evidence. The poop is more frequent, less solid and more pungent. Their tracks leave ankle-rolling gouges in the trail, and they are literally watching you from around every corner.

The last 10 miles of California were arduous! On top of the (now) cow diarrhea we were dodging, we witnessed a dead cow, AND the trail decided to steepen. It was as if the trail was actively trying to hold us in California, tipping us backwards. Pulling on my pack. It really felt as though there was a tangible force holding me by my backpack, not letting me go.

It was like walking through molasses to get to that border.

Last view of California. Near the dead cow rotting in the bushes.

Although very trying, WE MADE IT! WE MADE IT TO OREGON!

The celebratory beers we packed out of Seiad Valley were well worth their weight up those last climbs. I was cursing them today, but was glad to have it at the border. Some people pack out entire bottles of champagne or wine! We didn't get that extreme, opting instead for a few cans of good beer...