I had been out of my tent for about 10 seconds in the morning when I heard the fire lookout yell down, “There’s coffee up here if you want some!” I packed up as quickly as possible and climbed up to the tower. The lookout greeted me outside of the tower with a hot mug of coffee and a handshake, inviting me inside.

The interior of the lookout tower was dominated by a large Osborne Fire Finder. A cot (not possibly long enough for this stick-shaped man) was shoved up against the wall next to a huge stack of books and a radio receiver covered in dials and buttons. The lookout gestured outside at the hazy sky. “Look at all that smoke… dis-GUSTING”. Apparently it had blown in that morning from some fires in British Columbia and killed his entire vibe.

I sat down on a metal chest and he sat on his cot. He told me quite a bit about his job – it didn’t pay very well, but he liked it up here. The USFS switched most of its focus on fire detection to satellite imagery over the past couple of decades, partially driven by austerity, but nothing compares to having human eyes on the ground. This conversation brought us pretty far into politics; we collectively bemoaned the way the federal government prioritized budgeting for endless war and disinvested from basically all social goods, including the Forest Service.

The lookout asked to see my PNT maps, and whether I was planning to stop at the church in the hamlet of Havillah. He passed me his binoculars so he could point out the route that I’d take. A sparse network of thin grey roads was etched into the valley’s endless sea of brown grass. I followed the lookout’s directions to find a miniature white steeple poking up from among a cluster of five or six other buildings.

After thanking the lookout for the coffee and conversation, I used the outhouse and started working my way down the mountain – first on a trail, then on a dirt road, then through a labyrinth of cow paths. Besides some tricky navigation, a section of blowdowns, and a few wrong turns, the hike down to Havillah was quite uneventful. The dirt road opened up at the bottom of the mountain into a huge, nearly-treeless valley. My straw hat, which had been dangling on the back of my pack since Republic, finally came in handy again.

It was over 100 degrees that afternoon. The sun beat down relentlessly, and the white steeple I had seen through binoculars earlier that morning grew larger and larger. I was ready for a break when I made it to the church. A bulletin board was set up outside, welcoming PNT hikers to use the church as a space to rest.

In the church kitchen, there was a thank-you note left behind by Shepherd, one of the hikers I had met coming out of my bushwhacking disaster. She had stayed there the previous night along with Teddy and Karma. I was glad to know there would be more hikers to hang out with in Oroville. After hydrating myself and washing the dirt out of my fingernails, I went to the sanctuary to check whether there was a piano. To my delight, there was. I waited out the rest of the hot afternoon playing some pieces from memory and sight-reading through the Lutheran hymnal.

I met a new PNT hiker named Sean just before I left. He was drenched in sweat from the roadwalk, and didn’t seem to be feeling too talkative. I welcomed him to the church and hiked back down the road to my next destination – hopefully a spot to camp along the Whistler Canyon Trail.

Just as I reached the turn-off onto the next road (0551P), I saw six figures walking toward me in the distance. It couldn’t be… six more PNT hikers at the same time? As the figures grew closer, I recognized Bugs, Moose, Morning Star, Cookie Monster, Justin, and Kate. I was particularly excited to see M.S. and C.M., as I hadn’t caught up with them since Republic.

We chatted excitedly in the road for a couple minutes, then I let them get out of the sun and make their way to the church. That burst of social energy kept me going for the rest of the evening. I followed the dirt road to the Whistler Canyon Trail, which was really just another dirt road. After filling up a few extra liters of water at a cow trough (“Twin Springs”, north of 0561P), I hiked until I found a flat spot to camp in the sparse forest. I hoped that my seven friends would catch up that evening, but they ended up camping further back on the road.

I was looking forward to reaching Oroville the next day, mostly because it was the last stop before the Pasayten Wilderness. I couldn’t wait to be back in the mountains.