Deflection from the furnace

We left Mazama campground south, already aware of potential rerouting due to a heat wave in one of the hottest areas of California. The roads meandered (love this word, use it even if it isn’t perfectly fitting - a good word nevertheless) through big open grass plains, views of cows, empty lakes, and sharp peak snowless mountains. We road through the wood, and descended a canyon towards Ashland (not quite into town). At some point rode through Dead Indian Memorial road (again). Nice road. Bad name (indeed - link).

Temperatures quickly rose up to nearly 100 degrees. As soon as we hit the gas station where we were supposed to continue south to Mt. Shasta, we rerouted and shortened the ride straight to Calahan, CA. Not before catching a surprisingly good Mexican lunch at Yreka (go ahead and pronounce it correctly - Why? Rica?)

Our nowhere destinations are quickly turning more desolate (and Sitholed - another missing word from the English dictionary). It turned out to be as hot as everywhere there. An earlier quick map scans revealed a higher elevation campground - Scott Mountain Campground, just outside town. We headed there. It was roughly 4000 feet high and much cooler. Also, right on the Pacific Crest Trail (and road construction).

We pitched a tent, scouted the area. An old man (my age) approached us. He is doing portions of the PCT, he lives nearby and just does 40 or so miles. He was going South as everybody else is going North. He said he met quite a few “bubbles” and suggested that at this point they say that only 10% of those starting in the Mexico border persist the trail. I have no idea how true it is, but, hey, it’s written and anyways we live in post-truth era. It doesn’t have to be. Also, he was meeting with his wife at certain points in the trip where she re-supplies him and hang with him in the campsite. We saw them walking holding hands. Sweet.

Of course with this heat there was a fire ban so no fire tonight. We had great times nevertheless - in a campground on top of a low mountain with pleasant temperatures, dark starry sky and beer. Roee suggested that I should know how to use the bear spray. I deflected for him to have the spray in case we need to have a conversation with an angry bear. Which - by the way is more of a fiction - you’d hardly ever see bears - they are shy, not the Los Angeles showy type. And definitely not angry ones - at most a glance of one in the distance if at all. But, true, you got to prepare when in the woods and do the usual rituals - lock out food, have bear spray, and drink a good IPA.

Oh, my flipflop broke. Unfortunately Roee fixed it. Now it’ll last another 10 years. I was ready for a new one. Damn it.

(yes, it was hot, dusty, and dirty but, hey, we have baby wipes to keep somewhat minimally clean)

Today’s ride was good. Maybe not epic, but it set the tone for the trip. An epic, long day, followed by shorter easy one. Perfect combo.