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[ Day 10 – June 22, 2012 ]

The day’s ride led me out of one national park and towards another: I was set to reach Crater Lake in five days. There I planned to meet up with Scott, a former college teammate and bicycle touring buddy. I would have liked another day in Lassen, but I still felt pressed for time. I had not intended for the trip to feel so rushed, but it was the cost of committing to meet friends along the way.

An unexpected consolation: the ride away from Lassen NP was every bit as gorgeous as the ride through the park itself. The national forest that surrounds the park possessed a subtle beauty of contrasting colors, textures, and terrain. The mottled greens of shrubs, pines, and firs met blue sky tinged with white wisps of cloud. In the foreground, the red volcanic soil almost crunched when you looked at it; far in the distance, the foothills looked soft, as if they’d been painted in watercolor. The landscape was a visual delight and a total surprise.

My overnight destination was McArthur-Burney Falls Memorial State Park, a mouthful in name but arguably the crown jewel of the California park system. The centerpiece of the park (California’s second oldest) is Burney Falls, a gorgeous spectacle of water spilling over and out of a porous basalt foundation. I read that at its seasonal peak the creek flows through the falls at a rate of 100 million gallons a day, and that Teddy Roosevelt once called the falls “the Eighth Wonder of the World.” Standing at the foot of the falls, I could appreciate both pieces of trivia.

As a crossing point for both the Pacific Crest Trail and a well-published bicycle route, the park also featured a “hike and bike” site, a welcome amenity for two main reasons. First, the five-dollar camping fee was a refreshing break from the overpriced racket of privately managed public land. Second, I got to share some time with Tom and Christy, two unrelated hikers tackling the PCT. Sitting around a campfire, we traded stories and learned a bit about each other.

Tom was a quiet but friendly man who looked to be in his late fifties. He had a full white mustache that perched somewhat seriously on his upper lip. He was wiry in form, bordering on fragile, as if the hike produced a fitness that was persistently tested to its limit. We talked about food and I wondered whether he was consuming enough calories. It dawned on me what a challenge this must be for hikers. I finished my days with ice cream and quarts of cold milk, while hikers rationed the same low-weight, nutrient-rich choices day after day. Tom had sent himself a package to the park via general delivery and was already handing off items he could no longer stomach. I gladly accepted his offers but hoped that he’d bought calories to replace the ones he gave away.

Christy was an altogether different character. She was apparently a grandmother but could have passed for an REI model in her early forties. A self-professed outdoor enthusiast and gear lover, her typical day of hiking started before five and ended thirty miles down the trail. Outgoing where Tom was more reserved, vibrant where Tom looked worn down, they made a complementary travel duo.

Both were astounded by all the stuff I was carrying, which was admittedly a bit ridiculous. I had several items of appreciable weight (stove, fuel, pots, etc.) that I had not used once. I also carried an adjustable bungie cord borrowed from Scott four years earlier, which I wasn’t using but wanted to give back to him. He surely had forgotten about it and may have never wanted it back in the first place, but there I was carrying it 800 miles.

Our small fire was soon little more than glowing embers, cueing an exchange of pleasant goodnights and a retreat to our respective tents. I settled in for the night confident that I was every bit the oddity that they were to me.

[ Daily Miles: 40 ] [ Total Miles: 508 ]

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