Mile 1363.2 to 1391

We woke up at our campsite just over the border from Lassen Volcanic National Park. With smoke still hanging in the air from the nearby wildfire, I expected a spectacular sunrise. We got one, but it was unfortunately blocked by trees.

We were aiming to get into Old Station, which is an RV Park and motel right on trail. We had a leisurely walk mostly downhill and stopped at the Hatcreek River for water before making it to our goal. Sadly, Old Station turned out to be a let down. The staff seemed to be just waking up and even though we waited around until 9:00, they still hadn’t opened their kitchen. We gave up on the hope of breakfast burritos.
While waiting, I logged into the WiFi and accessed my Instagram account. I saw there was a comment on my photo from the section of trail I called the Meat Grinder.


It was someone asking if this was the section of trail where Tree died. Confusion set in as i couldn’t quite process the question. “No,” I thought, “no, no, no, no.” I Googled the words tree, pct hiker, death, and 2017. Something I never want to have to do again. There was a report from July 30, confirming that the body of Tree, Chaocui Wang, was found in the Rancheria Creek. A missing persons report had been put in on the 17th.
I remember the first time I saw Tree. It was as I sat huddled under a bush with Mowgli at the fire tank on the Rodriguez Fire Road just before Julian. We were all incapacitated by the heat when this short little women ran up waving and saying hi to everyone. She filled up her water bottles and then instead of finding some shade, said bye to every single person while waving both her hands as she ran down to the PCT. Amused, we all got up to see if she was still running when she got to the PCT. She was and we all smiled and shook our heads. That was the Tree I knew in a nutshell. She was full of vitality, friendly, and excited to be out here. She made others smile with her enthusiasm for life and hiking. After that day, I bumped into Tree in Julian and she came up to me and gave me an unexpected hug. I would see her off and on again throughout the desert. Whether it was Big Bear, Wrightwood or the Hot Springs, it was always a happy occasion when I saw her.

I know what that section of trail by the Rancheria Creek was like, and I said the trail designers must have been drunk when they put it there. I also know how swollen and raging the Rancheria Creek was. You were forced on a small, narrow, and steep snow slope sandwiched between a rock wall and a raging river. I shiver to think. I don’t want to think. I just want Tree to be on trail. I want to see her running down head of me, and I want to shake my head in amusement and admiration for her love of life. Tree, we all miss you and think of you often.

When we left Old Station, we checked our map and saw that there was a spur trail to some lava tubes. Interest peaked and looking for a way to distract ourselves from the news of Tree’s passing, we quickened our pace. Before we could get there, however, we happened upon a large unmarked hole in the ground. We got off the trail to have a closer look. 

As we got closer and the size of the hole became apparent, I called out that it might be a cave. It was! 

We climbed down some rubble and into the cool opening of the cave, a nice change from the high 90s we had been walking in.

I didn’t have my headlamp, so I used my phone to light the way. The cave twisted and turned and we had to stoop down as we shuffled to the back chamber of the cave where mini stalactites hung on the ceiling with drops of water hanging off their ends. They glistened in the light. 



Thankful for the reprieve from the heat, we climbed back out of the cave and back to the trail.


In about 1 mile, we came to the turn off for the Lava Tube, which is reported to be over 1,000 feet in length. There was a parking lot, picnic tables, and pit toilet so it must be a pretty popular spot. There were quite a few cars and more coming in as we walked up the sidewalk to the entrance to the tube.
It looked very similar to the cave we had just been in and I wondered if we had actually been in part of a lava tube.

As we descended, I switched on my headlamp because it was completely pitch black. We wandered through the tube reading the periodic signs explaining how there were two lava flows that occurred in the tube, etc. All very interesting stuff, but we were perhaps most glad for the cool temperature of the tube, which stayed consistent year round.

On our way back, I heard a large group of kids coming and turned off my headlamp and started walking like a zombie. When their lights shone on me they got quite the start.
Once out of the tube, we put on our packs and started the infamous Hellcreek, errh I mean, Hatcreek Rim section of trail. It is a potential 29 mile long waterless stretch that is completely exposed to the sun and known for its high temperatures in the summer. Luckily, this year Lost Creek is flowing so it is only a 21 mile waterless stretch with a potential water cache halfway through. There is the added challenge of the smoke from wildfires in the air this year so that is great.

We started the section after lunch set on making it to the water cache. You can never depend on them being stocked so we brought enough water from Lost Creek to make it 21 miles. Even though we were only carrying 4 liters, we each drank about 1.5 liters at Lost Creek. This is a method known as cameling, which means you drink as much water as you can without throwing up. It’s easier to carry the water in your body than out.
Despite the hellishness that is Hatcreek Rim, there is supposed to be one saving grace. You should have a final spectacular view of Mt. Lassen and your first view of Mt. Shasta. But as you can guess, we had neither of these. Walking through dry grass and scrub isn’t the most exciting thing in the world so Bedazzled and I put in our headphones as we walked a mostly flat monotonous trail. We made it to the cache just as the sun was setting and set up camp.



It’s supposed to be hotter tomorrow. We’ll see how well we fair.

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