I got settled in nicely yesterday at the campsite and really enjoyed relaxing in the shade. I may have took a nap in my comfortable camping chair before heading down to the store to get some goods and internet connection. While sitting outside the store, I had a little friend join me. He was quite the curious little dude. Chippy was his name apparently.

Loads of PCT hikers were at the campground store. They looked like they were definitely in their zone and speaking their own language. I eventually headed over for an early dinner at the campground restaurant and ordered a pizza. I noticed an older gentleman a couple tables away that had his backpack, an obvious hiker.

When the pizza arrived, I realized it could definitely feed my entire family, so I took a slice to him and instantly he sounded familiar. He had that good ole Texas accent. We hit it off and I eventually moved down a table to stop having to talk over the couple beside me, too funny. I shared another slice with him meanwhile.

Boy Howdy is 61 years old and as fit as a fiddle. His legs are chiseled like they are a pair from some extreme athlete. Clearly he has been walking up and down mountains since April.

He and his wife are both from Texas but ended up near Seattle many years ago. When asked “why do this now?” He simply said when he was in his early 50s, he told the boss when he turns 60, he would hike the PCT. When he turned 60, his wife, the boss, said it was time. He got his permit soon after and here this dude is hiking. Seems there are a lot of 20 to 30 year olds on the trail and this old wise one.

We talked about it all and I am in awe of anyone that can do such an adventure. He admitted that sometimes the scenery just doesn’t change quickly versus what I enjoy while riding, I can have multiple scenery changes a day. Other than that, the hikers are out there living the good life without regret or envy. They all are so disconnected from the rat race and more in tune with nature that could be humanly possible this day and age.

This morning I had a super early twelve mile descent with gloves and an extra shirt on. It was what some would call frigid. It felt good cruising down a hill unrestricted without any traffic at all. Giddy up.

It soon flattened up and I made it to Chiloquin. I had a sausage biscuit and chocolate milk from the local establishment slash convenience store. The town is named after the name of the Chief when the Klamath Tribes Treaty of 1864 was signed.

The rest of the ride involved back roads, chunky gravel and the red roads with some climbing and more great views. The sun brought the warmth towards the end of the ride and I soon found myself at the terminus, the Maverick Motel.

There is a story behind both routes starting at this particular motel, but I only know a little of the story and the rest would be pure speculation. There is one fact though, I am done with the OCVA! Tomorrow brings the TOO! Let’s go!