On The Road Again

It's been about five months since I returned from my travels last fall. Seven days ago I departed Portland once more, packing my essential belongings and supplies into my station wagon. My trip began with three days of fishing with my lifelong friend Adam. We camped for two nights at Castle Crags State Park near Dunsmuir, CA. The Sacramento river's upper portion, above Lake Shasta, flows here, and he and I learned how to fly fish here, together, fifteen years ago, when I generous Park Ranger donated ten minutes of his time and expertise to teach us "nymph" fishing. After two nights here, we relocated to the McCloud River, below McCloud Reservoir, where we spent two more nights. Our days were spent on the rivers, and our evenings around a fire eating meat and drinking beer and scotch. Adam caught some very nice fish, and I caught none, in part because I have no fishing license in California.

My first day of travel consisted of about 380 miles, from Portland to Dunsmuir. Somewhere south of Eugene, I got a flat tire. It was not entirely unexpected, as there were wires showing through the rubber. I managed to drive over 200 miles on the tiny spare, being careful not to exceed 55 mph. When we'd had our fun and Adam returned home several days later, I found a place to install a used tire for a very reasonable price in Dunsmuir.

I spent the night in an overpriced campground ($25) that night, and set off the following days to explore an area we'd passed near McCloud. Several miles down a gravel road there was a trailhead that connected to the PCT. I hiked along the creek for an hour or so. It was beautiful and I saw noone. I could have camped here, but felt too vulnerable. You never know who might show up and what their intentions might be. Instead, I found a secluded camp a short distance away. Still, it is a little bit scary to be alone in the woods. I am careful to cook during the daylight, and not leave bacon grease on the ground or anything else that might attract a bear.

The following day I traveled east on highway 89, passing through Susanville, and traveling south to Sierraville, where I now stay at Sierra Hot Springs. It is good to have a place to gather oneself. I hadn't properly organized my car since leaving Portland. I cleaned my dishes. I soaked in the hot mineral water. My legs buzzed afterward and my nearly continuous back pain subsided. I prepared some food in the kitchen and read a chapter of a novel. I got at least eight hours of sleep. Still, I don't know where I will be tomorrow. I am trying to remind myself to move slowly. There will always be someplace else to be. It is not always easy to be here now.