Part 23- Between Storms, Shoulder Pain and Unexpected Reunions
There are places you fall in love with at first sight.
Lake Aloha was one of them.
But the day hadn’t started as smoothly as I had hoped.
I had gotten up early, planning to go to the post office to send my resupply box to Burney Falls and get back to the trailhead as quickly as possible.
Then came a little hiccup.
Around 6:30 a.m., still in bed, I checked the weather forecast. I was slightly anxious after the storm the previous evening, which had come almost out of nowhere, with thunder, hail, and heavy rain that had even caused some roads to flood. It had also forced me to cancel plans to meet some other hikers for dinner and drinks.
Now the forecast was showing a 50% chance of rain and thunderstorms.
Another thing that terrified me.
Being caught in a thunderstorm in the mountains was definitely not something I wanted to experience, especially as I knew I wasn’t properly equipped for it—gear-wise, or otherwise.
I gave myself a couple of hours to decide what to do.
After sending my resupply box to Burney Falls, I decided to walk around the lake, grab a coffee, and catch up on my journaling.
It was sunny and warm.
A few clouds hovered over Lake Tahoe, whose water displayed a beautiful palette of blues. Some people were taking kayaking lessons, others were walking along the shore, while tourists—mostly—were simply enjoying the morning view.
I checked the weather forecast again.
And again.
And again.
Every time, it seemed to tell me something different.
Forty percent chance of thunderstorms.
Then 20%.
Some rain likely in the afternoon.
What was I supposed to do?
Spend another day in South Lake Tahoe?
Or get back to the trail and risk another heavy storm?
I kept debating.
I called a few hikers to see if they had managed to find a ride back to the trailhead, but nothing came of it—except Juliette, who was considering taking an Uber later in the afternoon and said she would be happy to share it with me.
It was around 11 a.m., and I was wondering how I was going to spend the rest of the day, when I checked the weather forecast one more time.
That’s when I received a Facebook message from a Trail Angel.
“Do you still need a ride?”
How amazing.
She could take me to Echo Lake around 1 p.m.
Once again, the trail—and the Facebook Trail Angels group—provided.
Needless to say, I warmly thanked her for her precious help and decided to grab a proper, healthy lunch before heading back to the trail.
Around 1:15 p.m., Lisa showed up in the parking lot, accompanied by her dog, Freddie.
She explained that she did this shuttle for PCT hikers almost every day. She had never hiked the trail herself, but had been supporting hikers for three years and loved hearing our stories.
As we chatted on the way, we spotted a couple of hikers hitchhiking on the side of the road.
I immediately recognized Smoko and Goosechase, whom I hadn’t seen since Kennedy Meadows North, and shouted their names.
Lisa pulled over.
There was enough room for two more people in the car, so they jumped in with us, and we continued toward Echo Lake, where I would get back on the trail and into Desolation Wilderness.
I had read that early explorers and settlers described Desolation Wilderness as rugged, rocky, and almost devoid of trees in places, especially compared with the surrounding Sierra Nevada.
The landscape was supposed to be dominated by enormous granite slabs, exposed rock, countless lakes, and relatively little soil or vegetation at higher elevations, giving the area a stark and austere appearance.
I was ready to disagree.
My first steps along Echo Lake were gorgeous.
And lively.
Especially around Lake Aloha, which I reached around 5 p.m.
The late afternoon light was making the water shimmer in silver shades between the trees.
I had planned to hike another 10 or 12 miles, but after those first 6 miles and the sight of the lake, I changed my mind.
I was staying.
At least for the sunset.
And what a sunset it was.
For once, I allowed myself to slow down and simply enjoy the place.
I watched the colors change.
The dead trees emerging from the surface of the water, the last rays of sunlight touching the granite boulders scattered across the lake.
Everything seemed to become softer and more golden by the minute. It was one of those sunsets I knew I wouldn’t forget.
My shoulder was still hurting, but at that moment, I felt I could handle it.
The morning came with heavy condensation.
My tent was completely wet, but the sunrise more than made up for it.
I got on trail around 7:30 a.m. and tackled the first stretch of uphill. Nothing as dramatic as the climbs from the previous sections, though. The trail gently made its way through the forest, surrounded by fallen trees and dead logs, including a few potential widow-makers.
At some point, I took a wrong turn and lost about 30 minutes.
Not ideal, but at least it gave me the chance to wander past a few beautiful lakes before finding my way back to the trail.
I eventually made it to Dick’s Pass, with yet more lakes appearing along the way.
I stopped for lunch by Dick’s Lake and took advantage of the break to dry my tent and sleeping bag in the sun.
The afternoon was quiet.
I was mostly alone, lost in my thoughts, barely seeing anyone on the trail.
Until I bumped into a familiar face.
Juliette!
Funnily enough, until then, we had only ever met in towns (and had a few beers).
We had somehow managed to miss each other on the trail every single time.
So meeting in the middle of the wilderness felt like an event worth celebrating.
We decided to camp together that night and shared a beer I had been carrying in my backpack.
It was a great catch-up.
And for once, we talked about something we don’t usually talk about on trail:
Life outside the PCT. Work. Dreams jobs. Ambitions.
Ideas for what might come next.
After so many weeks of discussing miles, resupplies, weather, campsites and food, it felt strangely refreshing to talk about the life waiting for us beyond the trail. Maybe the time was slowly becoming a little less about where we were going…And a little more about what, inevitably, might come next.
The next morning was slow.
I listened to a few podcasts while the trail gently made its way uphill through the forest.
I bumped into another familiar face, Punisher, and we caught up on the latest news from the trail.
The next day would bring us to Donner Pass.
I had originally planned to stop there for a quick resupply at the ski ranch, which also offers a free beer to PCT hikers.
It was also possible to get to Truckee, a small town on the shores of Donner Lake, but I wanted to avoid that. Going into town would mean losing half a day off trail.
There was just one problem.
My shoulder was still hurting.
And now it was getting to the point where I couldn’t really ignore it anymore.
After chatting with Juliette and Punisher, I started thinking that Truckee might actually be the last “big” town for a while—big enough, at least, to have a medical center.
Maybe it was time to get it checked.
There was nothing dramatic about the pain, but it was annoying enough to take up a lot of my energy outside of hiking.
I spent most of the morning debating the idea internally.
Should I stop?
Should I get it checked?
Should I just keep going and see if it eventually went away?
I still hadn’t made up my mind when, during lunch by Miller Creek, I bumped into Eugene, a Russian hiker I had briefly met earlier in the Sierra.
He was having some issues with FarOut, so I offered to hike together for a while.
It was actually his last day on trail, as he was planning to exit in Truckee the following day.
The landscape was exactly the kind I like.
The trail climbed along a ridge, and although the uphill was long and exposed to the sun, the combination of forest, rocks, and volcanic formations was spectacular.
There wasn’t much water around, though, so we had to keep pushing for a few more miles before finding a decent campsite near a creek.
When we finally arrived, we had a surprise waiting for us.
Juliette had already set up camp there.
Soon, a few more hikers joined us, including Helium.
We all had dinner together, making the most of Eugene’s last night on trail.
There was plenty to talk about, and the usual exchange of trail stories and gossips, and, unsurprisingly for a group of hikers, we went to bed early. Tomorrow would be another decision day.
Eugene and I had agreed on an early start the next morning. He needed to get to Truckee as early as possible to catch a bus to Reno, Nevada.
We were both ready by 6:30 a.m., although Juliette and Helium had already left camp.
This stretch involved about 9 miles to the junction leading down to the highway toward Truckee.
I had decided not to plan the rest of my day.
My shoulder had been bothering me all night, to the point that I had barely slept.
I wanted to check the accommodation options in Sierra City. If nothing suitable was available in 2 days, when I was hoping to get there, I would take it as a sign to go to Truckee instead.
It was the last mid-sized town for a while, with a gear shop and, more importantly, a medical clinic where I could get my rib checked.
A couple of miles later, Eugene and I said goodbye.
He took the junction toward Truckee while I continued along the PCT toward Donner Pass.
Luckily, hiking itself wasn’t particularly painful.
Everything else was.
Breathing in deeply.
Putting my backpack on or taking it off.
Sneezing.
Reaching for my water bottle.
Every little movement seemed to remind me that something was wrong.
Maybe Truckee wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
The problem was that I had barely slept, had no internet connection, and couldn’t really make a decision.
The trail itself was stunning.
For quite a while, it followed a ridge, with Lake Tahoe visible in the distance as the sun slowly climbed over the landscape.
From up there, I could enjoy both sides of the valley.
The trail was relatively smooth, the morning light was beautiful, and for a moment, everything felt easy.
About a mile before Donner Pass, I caught up with Punisher and we walked together.
She was planning an in-and-out trip to Truckee to check out the gear shop.
I knew I needed a couple of things too.
As we reached the parking lot, I spotted Juliette already there.
We chatted for a few minutes when we noticed a car parked nearby with huge letters across it:
TRAIL MAGIC
Perfect timing.
Keith, from San Francisco, had been following the PCT bubble all summer, providing trail magic to hikers at different locations.
And this time, he had brought fruit, ice-cold drinks, chairs, and even umbrellas.
It was basically a five-star trail stop.
Soon, four or five more hikers joined the little circle.
Among them was Sai, from Hong Kong.
At some point, a couple of friendly dogs came over to say hello.
Sai reached into his backpack and pulled out some dog treats.
I mean… actual dog treats.
He had been carrying them on trail specifically in case he met dogs.
You can’t make this stuff up.
Meanwhile, I checked the accommodation options in Sierra City.
Everything was fully booked.
That was it.
A sign.
Truckee was probably my best option.
And by then, I could barely move my left side.
Every movement hurt.
As if the universe hadn’t already made the decision for me, a guy suddenly pulled up and asked if anyone needed a ride to Truckee.
Seriously?!
Our Trail Angel, Freeloader, had something to take care of first, but promised to come back and pick me up half an hour later.
Perfect.
That gave me enough time to enjoy one of the beers Keith had offered us.
After all, I was done hiking for the day.
Freeloader came back as promised, with a few more hikers looking for a ride to Truckee.
After the eight-mile drive down toward town, along Donner Lake, he dropped me at a walk-in clinic I had spotted online.
The medical check confirmed that my rib issue wasn’t anything serious.
Just a tweaked muscle.
Painkillers and rest should help.
Of course, the doctor recommended taking a couple of days off.
And of course, I immediately knew I wasn’t going to do that.
The pain wasn’t really there when I was hiking, after all.
It was everything else that hurt.
And after already taking a zero in South Lake Tahoe, I didn’t want to lose too much time.
Worst case, I would see how things went over the next couple of days until Sierra City and reassess if I needed more rest.
For now, that seemed like a reasonable compromise.
I decided to make my time in Truckee as efficient as possible.
First stop: the gear shop.
I bought a fuel canister and a dry bag, anticipating that I might get rid of my bear canister in Sierra City and would need something to carry my food instead.
Then came the usual laundry.
I had to walk quite a bit to get there, and once I arrived, I explained to the manager that I was a PCT hiker.
The washing machine was broken, so I didn’t want to buy an entire bottle of detergent just for one load.
He simply gave me some for free.
Another small act of kindness.
People had noticed me walking around in pain and kept asking what had happened.
Of course, this quickly turned into questions about the PCT.
People in trail towns are always incredibly supportive and curious about this strange quest we’re on.
Meanwhile, I posted on Facebook that I was looking for a ride back to the trail the next day.
Within ten minutes, I had several offers.
The Trail Angel community in Truckee was amazing.
Jennifer offered to pick me up around 11 a.m. the following morning.
One less thing to worry about.
I checked into my hostel, organized my things, filled my bear canister one more time, and finally allowed myself a proper dinner out.
Truckee had turned into an unexpected but very useful detour.
I got up around 7 a.m. and enjoyed one more shower while checking my resupply plan.
I realized that Castella was a dry stretch, and since I had some time that morning, I could prepare a resupply box to send there.
First things first: a massive pain au chocolat and coffee at the bakery next door.
Not a bad way to start the day.
My shoulder was still hurting and had woken me up several times during the night.
I called my mum to get the latest news from home, then took the bus to the supermarket.
I managed to do an efficient resupply in less than an hour, then headed back to the hostel to check out.
Next stop: the post office.
Jennifer, the Trail Angel who had answered my Facebook request for a ride just three minutes after I posted it the previous day, was already waiting for me.
Perfect timing.
She drove me back to where I had left the trail at Donner Pass.
And, of course, another bit of trail magic was waiting for hikers there.
Julia and Sean had prepared pulled pork, pasta salad, and ice-cold sodas.
Twice in two days.
At this point, I was starting to wonder if trail magic was simply following me around.
And that pulled pork?
Probably the best I have ever had.
Combined with the tiny sandwich I had packed, it made for a perfect lunch before getting back on trail around 1 p.m.
The afternoon was hot.
I didn’t see many hikers during my 13-mile stretch, but the elevation was relatively gentle.
Thanks to the painkillers, I could barely feel my rib.
For once, my body and I had reached a temporary agreement.
I made it to camp around 6 p.m.
On the way, I listened to a couple of podcasts, including one about the full story of the Donner Party.
The Donner Party was a group of pioneers who attempted to reach California in 1846–47 but became trapped by heavy snow in the Sierra Nevada. Stranded for months
