The sun woke us up this morning by painting us with heat. It had streamed the sky over the buttes with orange and scarlet. We packed up and moved up the trail into the forest to have breakfast in the shade, where it was still almost cool enough to wear a jacket.
The morning consisted of another ridgewalk – a mix of slight grades, rocks, and nice smooth trail. We made great time as we skirted rocky spires and patches of dark shady pine forest. We crossed from the Tahoe into the Plumas national forests and passed overlooks high above a series of large lakes. We could see cars parked down at the boat launches and people out cruising around, leaving wake marks that followed them across the length of the lake. Towards lunch time we arrived at an intersection of dirt roads and the A-tree spring, gushing with cold water. It was super refreshing after the last few hot, exposed miles.
Our afternoon was much tougher and less scenic than the morning. It started with a moderate climb – not too steep and partly shaded, and we had wet ourselves down at the spring. Near the top we could see one last view of the buttes we’d climbed to yesterday from town, now hazy and indistinct in the distance. Once we got to the top of the ridge we started right down the other side and continued for a few miles through more pines. Then we started up again – and up, and up, over the course of a few miles. The trail we were on now was poorly maintained. We frequently had to get over blown down trees, which is a challenge when they come up to mid-thigh and you’re wearing a heavy pack. At times the sandy trail tread was wearing away and we had to be careful where we put our feet. Some sections were steeper than we’re used to seeing on a trail graded for stock animals. The saving grace was that the sky had hazed over, blunting the heat of the sun. We were still sweating freely but it was much better than if the sun had been as strong as it was around lunch.
Finally we reached the top with a few more miles to go before camp. The last stretch was along the top of Bunker Hill Ridge – open and breezy with the views we’d been missing of the surrounding peaks and valleys. The trail leveled out along the ridge and we were glad for it. We hiked for a mile or so before catching sight of our next water source way down below. It was a small pond – our least favorite source to draw from, but we weren’t sure if a spring another mile up was flowing, so we had decided to fill up here and dump it later if we found better prospects. Past the lake there was a rough, steep side trail plunging down to access the water. We dropped our packs and then dropped down ourselves to reach what our map named Duck Soup Pond – although it looked more like Duck something-else Pond. There were a few other hikers camping down on the pleasant open shore next to the water. We filled up and started back up the eroding trail, hopeful that we wouldn’t actually have to use it.
We didn’t, as it turned out. Less than a half mile later we came across a sign for Whiskey Spring a few tenths of a mile down off-trail. This wasn’t in any of our guides or maps, but the water sources over the last few days have all been well-signed in this manner. Maybe this is a recent thing. We dropped our packs again and went to investigate.
We found the spring running clear and well, much better than the pond water we’d collected. We headed back up to our gear. While Keith went back down to fill up I wrote a note about the spring for the hikers behind us, then hiked back to post it at the top of the pond trail. It’s nice to be able to pay forward some of the trail karma we’ve benefited from. When I got back I set up camp and finished just as Keith returned up the trail. It’s already cooler than it was last night and a nice breeze is hissing through the pines. I love camping out on our own, with no one to bother and no one to bother us.
Location:Pct mile 1231