6/11 788-811(23 miles)
6/12 811-833(22 miles)
6/13 833-853(20 miles)
6/14 853-878+1.5mile side trail(26.5 miles)
6/15 Vermillion Valley Resort. Zero miles
6/16 878-898 (20 miles)
6/17 898-906 (8 miles)
6/18 Mammoth Lakes! Zero Miles
This will be a strange post. I did not write any note during any of these days, and am writing all of these journals now. Sorry for the strange format. You will soon see why.
I awake in the morning after the storm and emerge to clear blue skies. Perfect conditions. After losing two days of food from my sickness and the storm, I now only have 3 days of food left. I estimate that it will take me four days to make it to my next stop. I think it over. I could turn around and head back down to town, losing days in the process, or I can push it and try to hurry to my next stop. My old reptilian inner brain tells me to run run run! Go for it! While my frontal lobe says, "Be rational. Do you really want to go through the most difficult section of the PCT with a limited amount of food?" As always, the lizard brain wins.
So begins my continued hike through the heart of the Sierra Nevada mountains. Every day I hike up and over 12,000 foot passes of ice and snow. I climb from the valleys with their trees and grasses and lush green, up into the world of the alpine with its rock and snow and sterile wind. This is some of the most difficult hiking I have ever done, and it was magnified by my lack of food. I should have been carrying extra, when instead I had less than normal. These days were a blur. I would arrive at the base of 3-4,000 foot climbs, and then I would eat a bunch of quick burn carbs and race up as fast as I could while I still had food energy. I would arrive at the top, drenched in sweat, gasping in the thin air, and then zombie walk down, my brain foggy from lack of food. I climb up and over Glenn pass. Mather pass. Pinchot. Muir. Selden. I write nothing. All of my brain power is focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Climb, descend. Climb, descend. Ford river. Climb, descend, ford river. A pattern emerges. I could feel my body shrinking. I could feel my pulse in my stomach when I lay for bed at night. The only thing that kept me enlivened was the endless beautiful vistas I had at the top of every pass. This place is perfect and beautiful and a backpacker's paradise.
Each day cannot be differentiated from the next. My mind is blank. I experience true hunger for the first time in my life. My body is eating itself. Regardless, I feel endlessly strong. I fly up every climb, feeling like I could walk forever.
At last I make it to the turn off to a backcountry resort called Vermillion Valley Resort. It lays in the edge of an enormous man made lake, or what was once an enormous man made lake that is now half the size it once was. A ferry exists to shuttle hikers from one side of the lake to another, but I miss the final ferry of the day. I camp on the dry lake bed, next to the shuttle pick up point and eat the last of my rationed food: bacon bits and prunes.
In the morning I awake and am shuttled by boat into the resort. Even with my brain so foggy I enjoy the boat ride immensely. I laugh as I am hit with spray from the water as we fly over the still lake. The boat makes it to the shore, and I stumble up to the restaurant at the resort and order two breakfasts. Before eating, I notice a scale next to the door of the restaurant. I stand on it and look at my weight: 173 pounds, twenty pounds down from my starting weight of 193 pounds.
Over the course of the afternoon and evening I eat five enormous meals. I pour food and drinks into my stomach. I come back to life. In the evening I step back on the scale and find that I now weigh 185 pounds. I was like a dried out sponge that was now once again full of liquid. My mind returned. I was back.
Unfortunately, my recovery ended up costing me over 150$ in under 24 hours. All of it was on food. Backcountry resorts can be mighty expensive.
I decide that I need to make some changes in my diet. This last section was far too hard on me. So far on this trip I have been hiking without a stove. With the bulk of my calories being bars, and nuts, and dried fruit. For dinner every night I was eating cold, dried mashed potatoes, mixed with tuna or bacon bits. I have gotten so sick of mashed potatoes that I eventually would just pour the powder in a bunch of water and gulp it down. I vow to never eat mashed potatoes ever again in my entire life. Thanksgiving? None!
I depart Vermillion Valley Resort and head back onto the trail with my body heavier, but my wallet much lighter. I rush through the next bit of trail until I reach the town of Mammoth Lakes, California, where I currently am. In town I buy a stove, and a new means of purifying my water- chlorine dioxide drops. I suspect that my filter was ruined during a cold night when it froze, and that is why I became sick. I take a much needed rest in town. I eat a ton of pizza, rest and regain my strength. I buy pasta and tortellini and plan to make elaborate trail dinners.
The deer in the Sierras have NO FEAR of people whatsoever. They have been walking through my campsites and have tried to chew on my backpack(presumably for the sweat residue). Another hiker had his socks stolen by a deer. If deer do not fear us, what will stop them from taking our place on the top of the food chain?! Oh yeah, their stupid little hooves.
I am feeling great after a little bit of rest and ready to hit the trail. I will soon be done with the Sierra Nevada mountains and will race my way though Northern California where the trail gets easier.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
6/7 mile 774-788+ 7.8 mile side trail(21.8 miles)
Last night I camped six miles from my first big hurdle of the Sierra Nevada range: 13,200 foot Forrester Pass- The highest point of the Pacific Crest Trail. What can I say about Forrester Pass? It holds a tremendous amount of symbolic value for me. For years, when I thought of the PCT, Forrester Pass was on the front of my mind. This pass was representative of all of my doubts about whether I could actually do something like this.
Near the top of the pass is a notoriously dangerous avalanche chute that hikers must cross. Envision if you will a greater than 45 degree slope that is covered with a sheet of rock hard ice, and imagine the bottom of the slope littered with enormous jagged boulders. Now, picture tiny foot holds cut into the sheet of ice, where foolish hikers can place tentative steps and work their way across. What would stop you if you fell here? Nothing! What would be your fate? Death or disfigurement! Therein lies the challenge of the Forrester Pass ice chute.
The morning started with a long climb up to the pass. I quickly climbed beyond the trees into a world of snow, and rock, and ice. Partially frozen crystal blue lakes lay all around me, and tiny streams of water cascaded everywhere, a byproduct of the summers attempt to melt the remaining snow and make us all forget about the winter.
Eventually I climb into the enormous flat expanse of rock below the towering wall of granite that is Forrester Pass. I look up at the enormous ridge of rocks, unbroken except for a small V in the middle of it- where the pass was. Now, I need to have a discussion with whomever named this place about what constitutes a pass. A tiny notch in a towering granite wall? Not a pass!
The trail was blasted, with dynamite, into the enormous wall of stone and switch backed up up up the face of the wall. I climb until I reach the avalanche chute: the place that I had been dreading for years. I was alone and feeling anxious as I looked at the sheet of ice. I stared at the rocks below and imagined my bones splintering as they crunched into them. I swallowed hard and took step after uncertain step as I made my way across the ice chute, hoping that each footstep would hold true. I made it across, at last, and quickly climbed up to the top of the pass.
I looked at the peaks of the Sierra Nevada stretched out in front of me like a fanned deck of cards, appearing endless. The wind was still. All was silent. I made it. This enormous psychological hurdle was behind me and every doubt or worry I had about my ability to complete this trip was erased. Pride. Joy. Euphoria. My body felt strong, and without limit. My mind no longer possessed the control over it as it once did. It was the best I have ever felt.
I was soon joined by a few other hikers, including one who did not have sunglasses or a hat(critical in the high mountains, especially on snow). His eyes were swollen and watery. I made him a pair of makeshift eskimo glasses from a strip of my sleeping pad, which protected his eyes and made him look like a teenage mutant ninja turtle, much to my chagrin.
After lingering for an hour, I made my way down the pass into the valley below. Away from the still and cold and sterility of the high alpine and back into the world of trees and life and green. I posthole through a few snowfields on the way down, and walk along rivers of snowmelt. Towards the end of the day, low on food and supplies, I take an 8 mile side trail over Kearsarge Pass and down to a trailhead above the town of Independence, California. I eventually get a ride into town, book a motel room, and look everywhere for something to fill my empty stomach. Nothing was found. All of the stores and restaurants in this small town closed early. I return to my motel room and eat an unsatisfying dinner of protein bars and dried plums.
6/8 no miles!
Staying in town today. This place is only at 5,000 feet, on the desert floor below the mountains, and it is boiling hot. 106 degrees. I eat and sleep and eat and sleep and eat and sleep and eat and sleep. Taking a break from eating and sleeping, I take a swim in the motel pool where I try to test out my newfound lung strength by swimming the length of the pool underwater. I succeed, but slam my face into the concrete wall of the pool's edge. Crawling out of the pool with a bloody nose, scrambled brain, and shattered ego, I am shamed by my hubris.
6/9 (4 mile side trail)
After a frustratingly long time trying to hitchhike back to the trailhead, I get a ride with a local biologist. Once on the trail I start to feel a little queasy. I only make it 4 miles up the trail before I camp out. I have, without exaggeration, numerous periods of 30 second long flatulence, and feel weak and have very poor morale. Recognizing that I may be experiencing some initial signs of Giardia (a stomach infection contracted from drinking from backcountry water sources), I take some medication and go to bed early.
6/10(3 miles along side trail)
I awake early, feeling strong and recovered from my illness, and climb up and over Kearsarge pass to return to the PCT. The weather, however, is completely indifferent to my plans. The morning started with 80 degree temperatures and clear blue skies, but within an hour the sky darkens, and the temperature drops to near freezing. Sleet and snow begin falling, and playing it safe after my recent illness, I decide to hunker down for the day and wait out the storm. I was at 11,000 feet as the wind whipped around me and snow and rain and hail pelted my shelter. I was alone and had no other source of entertainment, so I watched the videos I had recorded of the trip so far on my camera. It was like watching television, but far more lonely.
Last night I camped six miles from my first big hurdle of the Sierra Nevada range: 13,200 foot Forrester Pass- The highest point of the Pacific Crest Trail. What can I say about Forrester Pass? It holds a tremendous amount of symbolic value for me. For years, when I thought of the PCT, Forrester Pass was on the front of my mind. This pass was representative of all of my doubts about whether I could actually do something like this.
Near the top of the pass is a notoriously dangerous avalanche chute that hikers must cross. Envision if you will a greater than 45 degree slope that is covered with a sheet of rock hard ice, and imagine the bottom of the slope littered with enormous jagged boulders. Now, picture tiny foot holds cut into the sheet of ice, where foolish hikers can place tentative steps and work their way across. What would stop you if you fell here? Nothing! What would be your fate? Death or disfigurement! Therein lies the challenge of the Forrester Pass ice chute.
The morning started with a long climb up to the pass. I quickly climbed beyond the trees into a world of snow, and rock, and ice. Partially frozen crystal blue lakes lay all around me, and tiny streams of water cascaded everywhere, a byproduct of the summers attempt to melt the remaining snow and make us all forget about the winter.
Eventually I climb into the enormous flat expanse of rock below the towering wall of granite that is Forrester Pass. I look up at the enormous ridge of rocks, unbroken except for a small V in the middle of it- where the pass was. Now, I need to have a discussion with whomever named this place about what constitutes a pass. A tiny notch in a towering granite wall? Not a pass!
The trail was blasted, with dynamite, into the enormous wall of stone and switch backed up up up the face of the wall. I climb until I reach the avalanche chute: the place that I had been dreading for years. I was alone and feeling anxious as I looked at the sheet of ice. I stared at the rocks below and imagined my bones splintering as they crunched into them. I swallowed hard and took step after uncertain step as I made my way across the ice chute, hoping that each footstep would hold true. I made it across, at last, and quickly climbed up to the top of the pass.
I looked at the peaks of the Sierra Nevada stretched out in front of me like a fanned deck of cards, appearing endless. The wind was still. All was silent. I made it. This enormous psychological hurdle was behind me and every doubt or worry I had about my ability to complete this trip was erased. Pride. Joy. Euphoria. My body felt strong, and without limit. My mind no longer possessed the control over it as it once did. It was the best I have ever felt.
I was soon joined by a few other hikers, including one who did not have sunglasses or a hat(critical in the high mountains, especially on snow). His eyes were swollen and watery. I made him a pair of makeshift eskimo glasses from a strip of my sleeping pad, which protected his eyes and made him look like a teenage mutant ninja turtle, much to my chagrin.
After lingering for an hour, I made my way down the pass into the valley below. Away from the still and cold and sterility of the high alpine and back into the world of trees and life and green. I posthole through a few snowfields on the way down, and walk along rivers of snowmelt. Towards the end of the day, low on food and supplies, I take an 8 mile side trail over Kearsarge Pass and down to a trailhead above the town of Independence, California. I eventually get a ride into town, book a motel room, and look everywhere for something to fill my empty stomach. Nothing was found. All of the stores and restaurants in this small town closed early. I return to my motel room and eat an unsatisfying dinner of protein bars and dried plums.
6/8 no miles!
Staying in town today. This place is only at 5,000 feet, on the desert floor below the mountains, and it is boiling hot. 106 degrees. I eat and sleep and eat and sleep and eat and sleep and eat and sleep. Taking a break from eating and sleeping, I take a swim in the motel pool where I try to test out my newfound lung strength by swimming the length of the pool underwater. I succeed, but slam my face into the concrete wall of the pool's edge. Crawling out of the pool with a bloody nose, scrambled brain, and shattered ego, I am shamed by my hubris.
6/9 (4 mile side trail)
After a frustratingly long time trying to hitchhike back to the trailhead, I get a ride with a local biologist. Once on the trail I start to feel a little queasy. I only make it 4 miles up the trail before I camp out. I have, without exaggeration, numerous periods of 30 second long flatulence, and feel weak and have very poor morale. Recognizing that I may be experiencing some initial signs of Giardia (a stomach infection contracted from drinking from backcountry water sources), I take some medication and go to bed early.
6/10(3 miles along side trail)
I awake early, feeling strong and recovered from my illness, and climb up and over Kearsarge pass to return to the PCT. The weather, however, is completely indifferent to my plans. The morning started with 80 degree temperatures and clear blue skies, but within an hour the sky darkens, and the temperature drops to near freezing. Sleet and snow begin falling, and playing it safe after my recent illness, I decide to hunker down for the day and wait out the storm. I was at 11,000 feet as the wind whipped around me and snow and rain and hail pelted my shelter. I was alone and had no other source of entertainment, so I watched the videos I had recorded of the trip so far on my camera. It was like watching television, but far more lonely.
6/2- Today I did nothing related to hiking a trail. I ate a hundred hamburgers and watched the movie The Road House. It was exactly what I needed.
6/3 Mile 702-709(7 miles)
Lets talk a little bit about leaving towns: after eating cold, less than desirable food, sleeping on the ground, enduring relentless attacks from ants and ticks, being constantly either too hot or too cold, and dealing with all of the other realities of trail life, it is an absolute revelation to get into a town.
In town every woman you see is flawless, perfect, and the most beautiful woman in the history of women. They all appear to be akin to Helen of Troy. All of the men appear strong jawed, muscular, and menacing. Patton Oswald transforms into Channing Tatum. Never before has everyone else appeared so well groomed, and attractive, and never before have you felt so undesirable.
Every meal seems to be prepared by an award winning chef. Every drink is a magical elixir. Every comfort is magnified. Ever pleasure is heightened. Considering all of this, leaving town requires a tremendous effort. Luckily, I feel an almost magnetic pull North, and I get antsy if I stay in one place for too long.
After a welcome rest, I left Kennedy Meadows, a back country resort located right at the edge of the Sierra Nevada mountains, and returned to the trail. The change in scenery was both dramatic, and startlingly subtle. The soil was still sand, but now enormous trees sprouted everywhere instead of sage and chaparral bushes. It looked almost like the desert was putting on a forest disguise. The big change though, was the water. Water. Water! WATER! Water everywhere! There are rivers and streams and creeklets running everywhere, a by product of snow melt. Water is flowing in all directions. It feels hard to accept that it is real. After over a month of scurrying from water source to water source, sweating under the weight of a gallon (or more!) of water on my back, there is now an overabundance of water. To celebrate I pour liters of water into my mouth, swallowing only a fraction of it in a gluttonous orgy of excess. I deliberately get my feet wet. From now on I will most frequently carry only a liter of water at a time.
Towards evening I set up camp in a meadow(!), by a creek(!). Black bears become a concern in this next stretch of trail. Bear hunting is obviously not allowed in the parks of the Sierra Nevada, and bears, clever as they are, have realized that people are not a threat to them here. They know you have food, and they want it. They want it very badly. In most places if a bear gets into your camp you can yell at it and chase it away. Not so here. To combat this, hikers must, by law, carry a bear canister to store their food in( think oversized nalgene bottle). I picked mine up in Kennedy Meadows and am reluctantly carrying it with me. It is heavy, and cumbersome, and fits awkwardly inside of my pack. The comfort of having my food safe in a very remote area puts me at ease, but carrying it will still take some getting used to.
6/4 mile 709-731(22 miles)
The morning started with a climb up towards an enormous meadow. It is really feeling like we are in the mountains now and my morale is sky high. This next stretch will be physically more difficult than the desert, but psychologically much easier, and with a far greater reward in terms of scenery. Throughout this stretch of trail I will most frequently be between 10-12,000 feet in elevation, with brief trips below 9,000 feet and brief trips above 13,000 feet. The air is noticeably more thin. When I eat or drink or hold my breath I feel a desperate urge to gasp for air. I am acclimatizing well, and remain to feel strong during the climbs as long as I am conscious about my breathing.
Throughout the day the sky morphed from perfectly clear blue, to sporadic clouds, to enormous thunderheads. Thunder boomed all around me as I walked along high mountain ridges. Apparently this is a very common phenomenon this time of year in the high mountains. Afternoon thunderstorm patterns occur frequently, and it will be something I will need to keep track of. Somehow being up above 10,000 feet in a thunderstorm feels decidedly unsafe. At night I camped in in a place called 'Death Canyon' after collecting water at 'Poison Spring.' Lovely.
6/5 731-751(20 miles)
The location that I am at seems to be directly in the flight path of a local air force base. Throughout the day, fighter jets scream past right overhead. The noise is deafening. I am up so high, and the jets are so close, that it is a tremendous shock to my system every time they pass, shattering the tranquility of the high mountain scene. I am again right between 10-11,000 feet today, which is right below tree line here. In Washington, trees become sparsely distributed anywhere above 7,000 feet. Due to the elevation, the forests are bare, with very little undergrowth. The trees appear to be the only living thing. There are very few signs of life otherwise(other than ants. Ants are everywhere. Always.)
Today is especially memorable in that I arrived at the first natural lake of the trip. After over 750 miles, I have finally come to the first natural body of water. About time! It felt so good to be at the lake, that I decided to set up camp. At sunset I sat on the bank of the lake and watched the sun sink below the enormous walls of white granite towering all around me, and reflected on my trip so far. The first phase, my journey through the desert, is unquestionably over now, and a new chapter begins. I went to my tent, closed my eyes, and fell asleep, looking forward to next step in my journey.
6/6 mile 751-774(23 miles)
Snow levels are extremely low this year. The only snow that exists is above 11,000 feet. On the south side of slopes, there is essentially nothing, with more accumulated on the north side. It is so different from Washington, where anything above 5,000 feet is buried in snow right now.
At midday I approached a rickety wooden gate across the trail. There were no barriers on either side of the gate. Nothing was stopping someone, or something, from simply walking around it. Next to the gate was a sign that said "Please keep this gate close to protect the wilderness." What?! Is this supposed to be symbolic? I laughed for 20 minutes at pitiful barrier that this gate provided. Who put it here?
I am definitely spending too much time alone. I have between 8-10 hours per day of solitary thought, which is both a blessing and a nightmare. I have already relived my entire life in my head five times over, examining every action and word spoken. I also spend a lot of time singing. The size of my obscure song lyric vocabulary is a little disconcerting. I wish I could put the storage space and brain power to use elsewhere.
6/3 Mile 702-709(7 miles)
Lets talk a little bit about leaving towns: after eating cold, less than desirable food, sleeping on the ground, enduring relentless attacks from ants and ticks, being constantly either too hot or too cold, and dealing with all of the other realities of trail life, it is an absolute revelation to get into a town.
In town every woman you see is flawless, perfect, and the most beautiful woman in the history of women. They all appear to be akin to Helen of Troy. All of the men appear strong jawed, muscular, and menacing. Patton Oswald transforms into Channing Tatum. Never before has everyone else appeared so well groomed, and attractive, and never before have you felt so undesirable.
Every meal seems to be prepared by an award winning chef. Every drink is a magical elixir. Every comfort is magnified. Ever pleasure is heightened. Considering all of this, leaving town requires a tremendous effort. Luckily, I feel an almost magnetic pull North, and I get antsy if I stay in one place for too long.
After a welcome rest, I left Kennedy Meadows, a back country resort located right at the edge of the Sierra Nevada mountains, and returned to the trail. The change in scenery was both dramatic, and startlingly subtle. The soil was still sand, but now enormous trees sprouted everywhere instead of sage and chaparral bushes. It looked almost like the desert was putting on a forest disguise. The big change though, was the water. Water. Water! WATER! Water everywhere! There are rivers and streams and creeklets running everywhere, a by product of snow melt. Water is flowing in all directions. It feels hard to accept that it is real. After over a month of scurrying from water source to water source, sweating under the weight of a gallon (or more!) of water on my back, there is now an overabundance of water. To celebrate I pour liters of water into my mouth, swallowing only a fraction of it in a gluttonous orgy of excess. I deliberately get my feet wet. From now on I will most frequently carry only a liter of water at a time.
Towards evening I set up camp in a meadow(!), by a creek(!). Black bears become a concern in this next stretch of trail. Bear hunting is obviously not allowed in the parks of the Sierra Nevada, and bears, clever as they are, have realized that people are not a threat to them here. They know you have food, and they want it. They want it very badly. In most places if a bear gets into your camp you can yell at it and chase it away. Not so here. To combat this, hikers must, by law, carry a bear canister to store their food in( think oversized nalgene bottle). I picked mine up in Kennedy Meadows and am reluctantly carrying it with me. It is heavy, and cumbersome, and fits awkwardly inside of my pack. The comfort of having my food safe in a very remote area puts me at ease, but carrying it will still take some getting used to.
6/4 mile 709-731(22 miles)
The morning started with a climb up towards an enormous meadow. It is really feeling like we are in the mountains now and my morale is sky high. This next stretch will be physically more difficult than the desert, but psychologically much easier, and with a far greater reward in terms of scenery. Throughout this stretch of trail I will most frequently be between 10-12,000 feet in elevation, with brief trips below 9,000 feet and brief trips above 13,000 feet. The air is noticeably more thin. When I eat or drink or hold my breath I feel a desperate urge to gasp for air. I am acclimatizing well, and remain to feel strong during the climbs as long as I am conscious about my breathing.
Throughout the day the sky morphed from perfectly clear blue, to sporadic clouds, to enormous thunderheads. Thunder boomed all around me as I walked along high mountain ridges. Apparently this is a very common phenomenon this time of year in the high mountains. Afternoon thunderstorm patterns occur frequently, and it will be something I will need to keep track of. Somehow being up above 10,000 feet in a thunderstorm feels decidedly unsafe. At night I camped in in a place called 'Death Canyon' after collecting water at 'Poison Spring.' Lovely.
6/5 731-751(20 miles)
The location that I am at seems to be directly in the flight path of a local air force base. Throughout the day, fighter jets scream past right overhead. The noise is deafening. I am up so high, and the jets are so close, that it is a tremendous shock to my system every time they pass, shattering the tranquility of the high mountain scene. I am again right between 10-11,000 feet today, which is right below tree line here. In Washington, trees become sparsely distributed anywhere above 7,000 feet. Due to the elevation, the forests are bare, with very little undergrowth. The trees appear to be the only living thing. There are very few signs of life otherwise(other than ants. Ants are everywhere. Always.)
Today is especially memorable in that I arrived at the first natural lake of the trip. After over 750 miles, I have finally come to the first natural body of water. About time! It felt so good to be at the lake, that I decided to set up camp. At sunset I sat on the bank of the lake and watched the sun sink below the enormous walls of white granite towering all around me, and reflected on my trip so far. The first phase, my journey through the desert, is unquestionably over now, and a new chapter begins. I went to my tent, closed my eyes, and fell asleep, looking forward to next step in my journey.
6/6 mile 751-774(23 miles)
Snow levels are extremely low this year. The only snow that exists is above 11,000 feet. On the south side of slopes, there is essentially nothing, with more accumulated on the north side. It is so different from Washington, where anything above 5,000 feet is buried in snow right now.
At midday I approached a rickety wooden gate across the trail. There were no barriers on either side of the gate. Nothing was stopping someone, or something, from simply walking around it. Next to the gate was a sign that said "Please keep this gate close to protect the wilderness." What?! Is this supposed to be symbolic? I laughed for 20 minutes at pitiful barrier that this gate provided. Who put it here?
I am definitely spending too much time alone. I have between 8-10 hours per day of solitary thought, which is both a blessing and a nightmare. I have already relived my entire life in my head five times over, examining every action and word spoken. I also spend a lot of time singing. The size of my obscure song lyric vocabulary is a little disconcerting. I wish I could put the storage space and brain power to use elsewhere.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
Sorry folks, these are from a quite a while ago. It just took me a while to put them up. These entries shall be entitled 'the forgotten days.'
Day 7, April 29: Mile 105.5-115.5 (Agua Caliente Creek to Eagle Rock)
Woke
up early and took obligatory pictures at Eagle Rock, which is a rock
formation that looks shockingly similar to an eagle with its wings
spread ready to take flight. Quick hike through pastures with lots of up
close and personal cow encounters led us to Warner Springs, CA where a
temporary store was set up for hikers. Ate a few meals there (my hunger
is becoming very impressive), took a shower (with my clothes on, double
duty) and then got ready to head back out onto the trail. Side note:
the soap that was provided at Warner Springs was Axe body wash. No
discernable effect on my attractiveness to the opposite sex. Met a girl
who was carrying a small foghorn at the request of her father. I could
sympathize. If I carried everything that my father requested, my pack
would weigh 100 pounds and would include hundreds of rounds of
ammunition, a rifle, a flare gun, an emergency fire shelter, and a
loggers saw. I love you, Dad. I know you are just worried about me.
About gear: My shelter is a tarp with netting attached to the
bottom of it to protect against tics and ants. All included with ground
sheet, stakes, and poles, it weighs right under 1 pound. Sounds great,
yeah? One drawback: the material is translucent. Completely see
through--which of course provides me with zero privacy and also forces
me to wake up at 0630, when the sun starts blazing. Often I have not
even bothered to set up my tent and have just laid down on my
groundsheet and pad ie: cowboy camping. The base weight of my pack
(everything I am carrying minus food and water) is a hair under 12
pounds. I am carrying 1-4 liters of water at a time, and with food I am
never carrying more than 35 pounds, and most often a lot less than that.
After leaving Warner Springs I hiked up a long ridge and camped next to
a creek. After an hour or two Jason, a guy from TX and Jim, an older
gentleman from San Diego caught up and camped as well. Jess made it to
camp after dark and we all sat around eating and talking before calling
it a night.
Day 8, April 30: Mile 115.5-135 (Caliente Creek to Pike Gate after Trail Angel Mike’s house)
Spent
much of the day hiking with Foghorn (previously mentioned girl). Jess.
And Jenna, a girl from Olympia. Jess spent an hour or so telling crazy
stories about growing up with horses and running away from home riding
bareback on a horse and her kinship with horses and other generally
weird horse people type stuff so we have started to call her Horses. We
are all starting to look pretty filthy. The men’s beards are starting to
look wilderness worthy, the women’s leg hair is sprouting, and we are
all covered in layers of grime. The water sources in the desert are
typically giant horse troughs full of some nightmarish array of
dissolved poisons and tasting like rusty pipes. And the water is
limited, so baths are few and far between. I am wearing breathable
minimalist running shoes and thin liner socks, which has paid great
dividends with avoiding blisters, but when I take my shoes off, my feet
are black. The thinness of my shoes forces me to be very careful with my
steps, which others have noticed, so I have been nicknamed Bambi for my
“dainty little Bambi steps.” Could be worse I suppose. A few years ago a
hiker was named “Crap Bag” for attempting to go poop in a zip lock back
in their tent to avoid going outside with a driving rain storm. They
missed the bag and ended up getting poop all over their sleeping bag and
gear. I have had some pretty great camping mishaps so far. Top 5: 1)
Sleeping on an ant hill and waking up covered in ants (ants are
EVERYWHERE out here!) 2) Laying my backpack on an ant hill. When I put
it on It felt like grass was stuck to my back. I scratch and look at my
hand: covered in writhing any bodies. 3) smearing poop on my knuckles
while squatting down and wiping. 4) Endless bloody noses from picking.
Desert hiking: dust boogers. 5) There are limited places to cover and go
#2 in the desert, so one day I headed off into some manzanita bushes ti
use their cover to poop. Upon getting into the bushes, I witness
another hiker squatting down and actively shitting. Not wanting to be
noticed, I tried to kneel down and hide. While doing that, I rustled
some bushes and he looked back at me and made eye contact. I looked like
a dook watcher. I have seen him on trail numerous times. Neither of us
have spoken of it. Easy hiking. Stopped off at the house of Mike Herrera
who is a local guy who helps hikers to pick up water. Let me paint you
this scene. We come up over a ridge and are greeted with hand painted
signs saying “Water! This way! Come here hikers!” and arrows pointing to
a side trail we headd down it and see what looks like an entire flea
market condensed into a small lot. Stero equipment left and right.
Hundereds of grain mills, and enough exercise equipment prepare a
country’s Olympic team. We are greeted by a guy named “Cushie” who has
the glazed eyes of a long time stoner and an enormous black bong in his
left hand. He says he is the caretaker of Mike’s property. Very nice
guy, but if Mike trusts him to be he true care taker, he must be a very
eccentric guy. We are treated to burgers and water and hike on for a few
miles before camping.
Day 9 May 1st: Mile 135 Pike Gate to Mile 152 Paradise Cove
Easy
hiking today, but we had to deal with water haul to avoid some of the
murkiest trail water yet. Wait until you see the pictures. In one of the
cases I come across what looks like an abandoned parking lot in the
middle of the desert. Upon closer inspection I see a hump on one side of
it, about the size of a commercial propane tank, and with numerous
cracks and holes in it that were makeshift covered with pieces of fiber
glass. Next to it was a long spool of barbed wire attached to a gallon
milk jug with the top cut off. To help aid fishing water out of the hole
in the tank..
I fished some “water” out, and I use the term water very loosely here,
and found a sulfur smelling slurry that was
closer to the color of cheap domestic beer. The rest of the day was
spent walking alone imagining food I would be eating if I was in town,
singing songs to myself, and coming up with interesting things to say
for the next time I ran into another hiker. At the end of the day the
trail bisects a highway and thes is a café a short distance away. In the
desert, hikers are like roaches: search around any place with shade or
where food is left out and you are certain to find some. I walk up and
spy on some hikers to sit with. My tally for the evening: three meals,
plus a large side of sweet potato fries. Sweet. Sweet. Hiker hunger. At
night, the owner of the café let six of us camp on the porch of the
restaurant. Sounded nice, but I was next to a few snorers and 40mph
winds were blowing constantly throughout the night.
Day 10 May2md Paradise Valley Cafe(Mile 151.9- Mile 170.9)
Some
thoughts from the hobo camp out last night: Hiking in the desert just
like hiking anywhere else except that it is very hot, there is no shade,
and all of the water is terrible and very scarce. Today I am climbing
up onto the San Jacinto mountains, which rise some 10,000ft above the
desert floor. I climbed up from chapporal and sage up to cedar and pine.
Once on the ridge you could look thousands of feet below and see Palm
Springs. It is the most bizarre mental gymnastics to be up in the
mountains, being cold and whipped by wind and looking thousands of feet
below into the scorching, Blank, desert floor. Getting temporarily about
the desert provided me some time to thikn about my experiences so far: I
can feel myself getting mentally much stronger, knowing how to match
small herdles or adversities. I feel a greater closness to my body:
exactly how much food I need, how much water, when to rest. I have never
felt more connected to the present, probably since all thinking is done
in the present. When I can eat, when I can drink, where is more water,
when I can buy food, ect ect. One of the most memorable guys I have met
on the trail so far is a 72 year old man with the nickname “Ice Cream
Man.” His secret for hiking from Mexico to Canada? Daily Yoga. I am in
the mountains, everything is nice, blah, blah. I am tired and all out of
words.
Day 11 (170.9-179--Devil’s side trail to Idyllwild)
Town
today! Woke up early and hiked a quick ten miles into town. Shower.
Pizza (an entire 16” pizza to myself) Laundry (Wore my rain gear while
the rest of my clothes were washing. Do you know how hot it is in the
Southern California sun with rain gear? REALLY HOT! All of the
other laundry people look at me like I am from another planet as I sit
here profusely sweating. Tonight will be more food. Hanging out with
hiker trash, and buying supplies for next day.
Monday, June 3, 2013
5/29 Mile 630-651.3(20.4 miles)
With the extra effort needed to fight through the wind, I have been burning even more quickly through my food. With 20 miles to town I ran out of food completely. The only edible things in my pack were fish oil capsules. So I ate those. 50 of them. Surprisingly, I could actually feel the energy boost that they gave me. They were the equivalent of 500 calories. One of the really neat things about being out here is being able to see the kind of energy that different foods give you. I can definitely feel a difference when I am ingesting more wholesome, nutritious things.
I was mostly in a mental fog for the hike into town and remember very little of it. At the road crossing I ran into another hiker that I am friends with and we hitchhiked into the town of Lake Isabella together and shared a motel room. In town I performed some seriously gluttonous acts, rested in my motel room, and made some calls home. The next day I was once again ready to hit the trail
5/30 Mile 651-670
After leaving town late, I hiked with a couple other guys into the night and camped at a stream fed by a spring. We ended up cowboy camping in a tiny clearing, rubbing shoulders to fit in. In the middle of the night a strange thing happened to me that has happened throughout my life: I woke up screaming. My fellow hikers were shocked by being awoken this way, and I felt a bit embarrassed about what I will refer to as my night terrors.
5/31 mile 670-693
Another day of hiking. Spent time with the same dudes again. The Sierra Nevada mountains are only a few days away, and there is a dramatic change scenery. More trees. Less cactus. Good good good. At night, I once again camped with the two guys. In the middle of the night a mouse jumped on my shoulder. I batted it away, and turned on my headlamp. When I looked around I saw numerous tiny pairs of glowing eyes. More and more mammalian life is around. Many hikers have been spotting bears.
6/1 Mile 693-702
Kennedy meadows! I am now at the gateway of the Sierra Nevada mountains. I got my bear can here, and my ice axe, but unfortunately not my maps or the food i sent myself. Luckily, my great friends Nicholas and Megan sent me a fantastic care package full of all sorts of great things. Thank you so much guys! It made me feel really great to read the notes and feel your support. I am amazed at your knowledge at the trail bartering system. I will spend today and tomorrow resting and then will head off into the Sierras on the 3rd of June, where I will face 13,000 foot passes, food aggressive bears, river fords, and loads of adventure.
With the extra effort needed to fight through the wind, I have been burning even more quickly through my food. With 20 miles to town I ran out of food completely. The only edible things in my pack were fish oil capsules. So I ate those. 50 of them. Surprisingly, I could actually feel the energy boost that they gave me. They were the equivalent of 500 calories. One of the really neat things about being out here is being able to see the kind of energy that different foods give you. I can definitely feel a difference when I am ingesting more wholesome, nutritious things.
I was mostly in a mental fog for the hike into town and remember very little of it. At the road crossing I ran into another hiker that I am friends with and we hitchhiked into the town of Lake Isabella together and shared a motel room. In town I performed some seriously gluttonous acts, rested in my motel room, and made some calls home. The next day I was once again ready to hit the trail
5/30 Mile 651-670
After leaving town late, I hiked with a couple other guys into the night and camped at a stream fed by a spring. We ended up cowboy camping in a tiny clearing, rubbing shoulders to fit in. In the middle of the night a strange thing happened to me that has happened throughout my life: I woke up screaming. My fellow hikers were shocked by being awoken this way, and I felt a bit embarrassed about what I will refer to as my night terrors.
5/31 mile 670-693
Another day of hiking. Spent time with the same dudes again. The Sierra Nevada mountains are only a few days away, and there is a dramatic change scenery. More trees. Less cactus. Good good good. At night, I once again camped with the two guys. In the middle of the night a mouse jumped on my shoulder. I batted it away, and turned on my headlamp. When I looked around I saw numerous tiny pairs of glowing eyes. More and more mammalian life is around. Many hikers have been spotting bears.
6/1 Mile 693-702
Kennedy meadows! I am now at the gateway of the Sierra Nevada mountains. I got my bear can here, and my ice axe, but unfortunately not my maps or the food i sent myself. Luckily, my great friends Nicholas and Megan sent me a fantastic care package full of all sorts of great things. Thank you so much guys! It made me feel really great to read the notes and feel your support. I am amazed at your knowledge at the trail bartering system. I will spend today and tomorrow resting and then will head off into the Sierras on the 3rd of June, where I will face 13,000 foot passes, food aggressive bears, river fords, and loads of adventure.
5/28 mile 602-630.8 (28.8 miles)
Today I awoke to a strange scene- the sky was covered in a thick blanket of fog. It was eerily reminiscent of mornings on the Washington coast, which is my favorite place to be, and it gave me a tremendous psychological boost. I thought about home all throughout the morning.
Ok, lets talk about the wind- from mile 550-mile 700 the wind is a constant, malevolent presence. For this stretch there is a 30mph constant wind, with gusts up to 75 miles. Wind complicates everything out here. Eating becomes a nightmare. A lot of hiker food turns into a fine powder from the constant jostling of trail life, and powders have a tendency to blow away in high winds. When your caloric demands are as high as ours, any impediment to eating is an instant nemesis. Peeing is also very difficult. For all of my male readers I suggest an experiment: have a friend drive a car at 60 MPH, roll down the window and try to pee out the window. What happens? Your healthy stream of urine, turns into a misty cloud of piss that saturates everything. Shelters are a no go in this section. The wind will blow them down immediately. To sleep, one must tuck themselves into a bush.
So here we are, urine soaked, underfed, and sleeping in bushes. During this stretch, all of us have been running at a low level of insanity. Nearly everyone has lost their temper and screamed profanities into the wind. I am finding it really hard to work on being a better thing in conditions like this. In summation: the wind is never here when you need it (like when you are being chased by hornets or have to escape somewhere via sailboat) and always around when you don't (all other circumstances).
Today I awoke to a strange scene- the sky was covered in a thick blanket of fog. It was eerily reminiscent of mornings on the Washington coast, which is my favorite place to be, and it gave me a tremendous psychological boost. I thought about home all throughout the morning.
Ok, lets talk about the wind- from mile 550-mile 700 the wind is a constant, malevolent presence. For this stretch there is a 30mph constant wind, with gusts up to 75 miles. Wind complicates everything out here. Eating becomes a nightmare. A lot of hiker food turns into a fine powder from the constant jostling of trail life, and powders have a tendency to blow away in high winds. When your caloric demands are as high as ours, any impediment to eating is an instant nemesis. Peeing is also very difficult. For all of my male readers I suggest an experiment: have a friend drive a car at 60 MPH, roll down the window and try to pee out the window. What happens? Your healthy stream of urine, turns into a misty cloud of piss that saturates everything. Shelters are a no go in this section. The wind will blow them down immediately. To sleep, one must tuck themselves into a bush.
So here we are, urine soaked, underfed, and sleeping in bushes. During this stretch, all of us have been running at a low level of insanity. Nearly everyone has lost their temper and screamed profanities into the wind. I am finding it really hard to work on being a better thing in conditions like this. In summation: the wind is never here when you need it (like when you are being chased by hornets or have to escape somewhere via sailboat) and always around when you don't (all other circumstances).
5/27 mile 583-602(19 miles)
Today I hiked with a few other guys through another apparently endless stretch of wind farms. The wind(which I will talk about in more detail later) was once again relentless and infuriating and a major annoyance, but the miles flew by quickly due to the company. It is amazing how much easier it is to hike with others when compared to hiking alone. Your mind is less attuned to the noises surrounding you, and to potential dangers, and you just glide along. It is a sort of walking rest.
I really enjoy asking questions of other hikers about what is motivating them to be out here. The responses I receive are as varied as the hikers. One hiker told me he was out here because he believed that we are nearing end times, and that this trail would help prepare him for the challenges ahead. Another is using the hike as physical preparation for enlisting in the military. I can think of far more effective exercise regimens to prepare for enlistment. Thruhiking makes you good at one thing: walking up hill, and nearly useless at everything else. Yet another hiker told me that he is hiking the PCT as a first step towards becoming a better role model for his daughter. Others talk of fun, or of adventure, or of a search for meaning. We are all out here for differing reasons, yet it is easy to feel a kinship with other hikers.
As for me, I am out here to become a little less like the man that I am, and a little more like the man that I want to be.
Today I hiked with a few other guys through another apparently endless stretch of wind farms. The wind(which I will talk about in more detail later) was once again relentless and infuriating and a major annoyance, but the miles flew by quickly due to the company. It is amazing how much easier it is to hike with others when compared to hiking alone. Your mind is less attuned to the noises surrounding you, and to potential dangers, and you just glide along. It is a sort of walking rest.
I really enjoy asking questions of other hikers about what is motivating them to be out here. The responses I receive are as varied as the hikers. One hiker told me he was out here because he believed that we are nearing end times, and that this trail would help prepare him for the challenges ahead. Another is using the hike as physical preparation for enlisting in the military. I can think of far more effective exercise regimens to prepare for enlistment. Thruhiking makes you good at one thing: walking up hill, and nearly useless at everything else. Yet another hiker told me that he is hiking the PCT as a first step towards becoming a better role model for his daughter. Others talk of fun, or of adventure, or of a search for meaning. We are all out here for differing reasons, yet it is easy to feel a kinship with other hikers.
As for me, I am out here to become a little less like the man that I am, and a little more like the man that I want to be.
5/25 558.5-560 (1.5 miles)
From Mojave I got a ride over to Tehachapi, since unlike Mojave the library was open. I updated my journal, bought some groceries and a new hat(my third of the trip) and then tried to hitchhike out of town. After nearly 3 hours I was picked up by a man in his 70's who was very hard of hearing and without hearing aides. We somehow maintained a tenuous, 30 minute shouting conversation. It was dusk by the time I reached the trail, so I ate some dinner and developed a plan to night hike the next 8 miles so I could feel a little bit better about the day's progress. One problem: the next 8 miles were through a barren wind farm. I made it exactly one and a half miles before I curled up inside of a manzanita to get some relief from the wind. All around me were dessicated masses of cow dung that flaked up and flew in my face throughout the night. When I awoke I had to brush the dried flakes of feces out of my beard. Just another night on the PCT.
From Mojave I got a ride over to Tehachapi, since unlike Mojave the library was open. I updated my journal, bought some groceries and a new hat(my third of the trip) and then tried to hitchhike out of town. After nearly 3 hours I was picked up by a man in his 70's who was very hard of hearing and without hearing aides. We somehow maintained a tenuous, 30 minute shouting conversation. It was dusk by the time I reached the trail, so I ate some dinner and developed a plan to night hike the next 8 miles so I could feel a little bit better about the day's progress. One problem: the next 8 miles were through a barren wind farm. I made it exactly one and a half miles before I curled up inside of a manzanita to get some relief from the wind. All around me were dessicated masses of cow dung that flaked up and flew in my face throughout the night. When I awoke I had to brush the dried flakes of feces out of my beard. Just another night on the PCT.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
I spent a little too long on my first two updates and I am almost out of computer time at the library so this post will be very rushed. All bones. No meat. Sorry guys. I will hash them out more when I have some time.
May 21st mile 485-496 (11 miles)
In the morning I enjoyed a shower and pancake breakfast at the Andersons and started back on trail with warnings from Terri that there was still significant snow in the Sierra Nevada mountains, and that I should slow my pace a little bit. It was a pleasant yet unremarkable day. I set up camp on a ridge overlooking the Mojave desert and was soon joined by a few other hikers. Cowboy camped, and fell asleep to a display of shooting stars.
May 22nd mile 496-517.6(21.6 miles)
Most of the day was spent circling around ridges overlooking the vast mojave desert. At night I descended into the desert to a place called 'Hiker Town.' Hiker Town is a mock desert town that looks like a movie set that was created by an wealthy hiker friendly property owner. For a modest fee, hikers are allowed a shower and a place to sleep indoors. It was a very welcome respite, since the area is known for relentless winds.
May 23rd mile 517.6-541(24 miles)
Today I entered the Mojave. Started the day walking along the LA aqueduct, which was endlessly bizarre. A massive, stolen, river running through an area that is starving for water. Along the route today I ran across what I can only describe as 'outposts' of people living in the middle of the desert. The scene was quintessential american desert. Rickety barbed wire fences surrounding a trailer in ill repair. I have no idea what kind of person lives in this Godforsaken place, but everytime I imagine them they seem sinister. The day ended walking through an enormous wind farm. My straw hat fell apart around me, and I battled up hill against gusts of wind that were 50mph. I eventually found refuge in a small canyon with a lovely water source and the company of a group of hikers that I like very much
May 24th 541.6-558.5(17 miles)
While walking along this morning I realized that I had not brushed my teeth in 3 days. THREE DAYS! What is happening to me?! Just when I felt like I had lost my last scrap of humanity, I came across a water cache set up by some local property owners. The cache was complete with lawn chairs, bottles of water, and green apples. I sat in the chair and felt like quite a fancy man. Ended the day by hitching into Mojave, California where I booked a cheap room in a Motel 6 and went looking for the library so I could update this journal. Unfortunately the library was only open 2 days a week, and I was unable to get any of my internet chores done. From my limited time in Mojave, I can tell that the citizens of this windswept town do very little reading. Tomorrow I will go to nearby Tehachapi which has more in the way of services.
May 21st mile 485-496 (11 miles)
In the morning I enjoyed a shower and pancake breakfast at the Andersons and started back on trail with warnings from Terri that there was still significant snow in the Sierra Nevada mountains, and that I should slow my pace a little bit. It was a pleasant yet unremarkable day. I set up camp on a ridge overlooking the Mojave desert and was soon joined by a few other hikers. Cowboy camped, and fell asleep to a display of shooting stars.
May 22nd mile 496-517.6(21.6 miles)
Most of the day was spent circling around ridges overlooking the vast mojave desert. At night I descended into the desert to a place called 'Hiker Town.' Hiker Town is a mock desert town that looks like a movie set that was created by an wealthy hiker friendly property owner. For a modest fee, hikers are allowed a shower and a place to sleep indoors. It was a very welcome respite, since the area is known for relentless winds.
May 23rd mile 517.6-541(24 miles)
Today I entered the Mojave. Started the day walking along the LA aqueduct, which was endlessly bizarre. A massive, stolen, river running through an area that is starving for water. Along the route today I ran across what I can only describe as 'outposts' of people living in the middle of the desert. The scene was quintessential american desert. Rickety barbed wire fences surrounding a trailer in ill repair. I have no idea what kind of person lives in this Godforsaken place, but everytime I imagine them they seem sinister. The day ended walking through an enormous wind farm. My straw hat fell apart around me, and I battled up hill against gusts of wind that were 50mph. I eventually found refuge in a small canyon with a lovely water source and the company of a group of hikers that I like very much
May 24th 541.6-558.5(17 miles)
While walking along this morning I realized that I had not brushed my teeth in 3 days. THREE DAYS! What is happening to me?! Just when I felt like I had lost my last scrap of humanity, I came across a water cache set up by some local property owners. The cache was complete with lawn chairs, bottles of water, and green apples. I sat in the chair and felt like quite a fancy man. Ended the day by hitching into Mojave, California where I booked a cheap room in a Motel 6 and went looking for the library so I could update this journal. Unfortunately the library was only open 2 days a week, and I was unable to get any of my internet chores done. From my limited time in Mojave, I can tell that the citizens of this windswept town do very little reading. Tomorrow I will go to nearby Tehachapi which has more in the way of services.
May 20th. Mile 471-485 (14 miles)
I awoke in the morning still high off of my wildlife encounter from last night. I told the other hikers camped nearby my story, and we all noticed the unusual amount of cat prints in the area as we hiked throughout the morning. Before noon, we came to a road crossing which lead to the house of The Andersons, an infamous group of trail angels. The Andersons, a married couple in their mid 50s, have been supporting and aiding hikers for nearly 15 years, offering a place to stay and food(taco salad every night and pancakes every morning). The Andersons are true eccentrics, referring to their home and what they do as 'hippy daycare.' Terri Anderson, the wife, is known to flash her breasts and butt(both can be described as sizable), engage in pudding wrestling matches with hikers, and participates in various other debaucherous acts.
Thinking that it was too eadly in the day for drinking or pudding wrestling, and feeling well rested from my recent day off, I decided to skip the stop and continue heading up trail. After a few miles I began to sincerely regret my decision. I felt as if I owed it to myself, and to this journal, to experience all of the strangeness that this trail has to offer. At 14 miles into the day I came across another road crossing and attempted to hitchhike back to the Andersons.
I had been standing along a lonesome stretch of rural road, unsuccessful in my attempts to hitchhike, for around 30 minutes when I spyed a while minivan racing down the road towards me. I waved it down and was sprayed with gravel as the van skidded to a stop next to me. The tinted front window of the minivan lowered and I met the gaze of an older man with a heavy white beard, long white hair kept in a ponytail, and eyes shaded behind a pair of surprisingly modern styled sport sunglasses. "Whats yer name?" growled the man.
"Bambi," I replied.
"Sissy name, Bambi. I am Joe Anderson, wanna come home with me?"
"Yes, sir. I would like that very much"
And so I was whisked away, flying down rural roads as Joe yelled out at tail gaters and perpetrators of any other traffic automobile faux pas.
"Fuck you man! Yer gonna kill someone!" Yelled Joe as he stormed down the road in his white minivan.
We arrived at his house where I saw many familiar faces sitting in lawn chairs in the driveway. Everyone was wearing a hawaiian shirt. One of the shockingly few rules at the Andersons is that all hikers must adorn themselves in a hawaiian shirt, chosen from a giant rack of shirts also located in the driveway.
I spent the night drinking and hanging out with a motley crew of hikers. I punished myself with two heaping plates of Terri Anderson's famous taco salad and engaged the other hikers in rumors about the trail ahead. Apparently many other hikers had encounters with, or sightings of, a mountain lion in the same area that I spotted mine. One hiker awoke to a mountain lion standing mere feet away, watching him as he slept. Terri reported that a local forest ranger had released a mother lion and her cub in the area a few months previous (thanks a lot forest service!)
For all their eccentricities, the Andersons are endlessly welcoming to hikers, one and all. I was astounded by their generosity and kindness. After feeling orphaned for so long on this hike, I finally felt as if I was home.
I awoke in the morning still high off of my wildlife encounter from last night. I told the other hikers camped nearby my story, and we all noticed the unusual amount of cat prints in the area as we hiked throughout the morning. Before noon, we came to a road crossing which lead to the house of The Andersons, an infamous group of trail angels. The Andersons, a married couple in their mid 50s, have been supporting and aiding hikers for nearly 15 years, offering a place to stay and food(taco salad every night and pancakes every morning). The Andersons are true eccentrics, referring to their home and what they do as 'hippy daycare.' Terri Anderson, the wife, is known to flash her breasts and butt(both can be described as sizable), engage in pudding wrestling matches with hikers, and participates in various other debaucherous acts.
Thinking that it was too eadly in the day for drinking or pudding wrestling, and feeling well rested from my recent day off, I decided to skip the stop and continue heading up trail. After a few miles I began to sincerely regret my decision. I felt as if I owed it to myself, and to this journal, to experience all of the strangeness that this trail has to offer. At 14 miles into the day I came across another road crossing and attempted to hitchhike back to the Andersons.
I had been standing along a lonesome stretch of rural road, unsuccessful in my attempts to hitchhike, for around 30 minutes when I spyed a while minivan racing down the road towards me. I waved it down and was sprayed with gravel as the van skidded to a stop next to me. The tinted front window of the minivan lowered and I met the gaze of an older man with a heavy white beard, long white hair kept in a ponytail, and eyes shaded behind a pair of surprisingly modern styled sport sunglasses. "Whats yer name?" growled the man.
"Bambi," I replied.
"Sissy name, Bambi. I am Joe Anderson, wanna come home with me?"
"Yes, sir. I would like that very much"
And so I was whisked away, flying down rural roads as Joe yelled out at tail gaters and perpetrators of any other traffic automobile faux pas.
"Fuck you man! Yer gonna kill someone!" Yelled Joe as he stormed down the road in his white minivan.
We arrived at his house where I saw many familiar faces sitting in lawn chairs in the driveway. Everyone was wearing a hawaiian shirt. One of the shockingly few rules at the Andersons is that all hikers must adorn themselves in a hawaiian shirt, chosen from a giant rack of shirts also located in the driveway.
I spent the night drinking and hanging out with a motley crew of hikers. I punished myself with two heaping plates of Terri Anderson's famous taco salad and engaged the other hikers in rumors about the trail ahead. Apparently many other hikers had encounters with, or sightings of, a mountain lion in the same area that I spotted mine. One hiker awoke to a mountain lion standing mere feet away, watching him as he slept. Terri reported that a local forest ranger had released a mother lion and her cub in the area a few months previous (thanks a lot forest service!)
For all their eccentricities, the Andersons are endlessly welcoming to hikers, one and all. I was astounded by their generosity and kindness. After feeling orphaned for so long on this hike, I finally felt as if I was home.
May 19th Mile 454.4-471.3 (17 miles)
I left the Sauffley's in the early afternoon, enjoyed a breakfast at a local bakery and returned to trail. The day started out with a few mile road walk, with traffic zooming by, dogs barking at me through rickety fences, and the sun reflecting off of the pavement. Unpleasant. I soon returned to a typical southern california stretch of the PCT: a meandering trail looping up and around medium sized hills with low bushes everywhere. The day began heating up, and since I was not carrying much water I decided to take a break during the heat of the day. With limited options of shade, I walked a few hundred yards off trail, draped all of my gear and clothing on the bare branches of a low shrub, and crawled inside of it in my underwear. I spent the next few hours looking and relooking at maps, and trying to start text message conversations with everyone I possibly could. (Thanks to those I talked to for keeping me company!)
While I was in Agua Dulce I forgot to pick up toilet paper, and so, back on trail I was faced with a crisis: an urgent need to have a bowel movement and nothing to use to clean up afterwards. I considered my options. Could I drag my hindquarters on the ground, like I see my dogs do? Probably not. Dog butts are unlike my butt, and the desert floor is littered with ants and things with the potential to spear things I do not want speared. What if I just did nothing, and 'walked it off' so to speak? Possible, but it seemed as if I had not yet devolved to quite that level of derangement. So I laid out every item of gear I had in my pack and considered each for their potential as a toilet paper substitute. I quickly decided that my best option was cutting up a pair of dirty socks in strips and using that. The results were positive.
Eventually the heat of the sun died down and I returned to trail to knock out a few more miles, with the intention of hiking into the night(joyfully using my new headlamp!). After nightfall, I found myself in the midst of a canyon densely packed with desert plants. Often times while hiking alone at night I can work myself up and give myself the creeps, but the feeling passes after 30 minutes or so. Tonight, the feeling lingered. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I could not shake the feeling that I was being followed. I studied the ground and saw TONS of big cat tracks and predator scat. I tried to talk myself down, seeking to calm myself with the impossibly low chances of mountain lion attacks, but the feeling remained: I was being hunted. I quickened my pace, and started to shine my headlamp behind me at regular intervals. I stood still, silent, and listened. Did I hear a rustling on the trail, or was it the imaginings of a frightened mind? Only silence now. I continued walking for a few minutes, came around a bend in the trail and then turned my headlamp off, waiting and listening for anything following me. Again I heard a soft sound coming up the trail. I turned my headlamp on, and pointed it up the trail where I heard the noise. My light was reflected in a pair of green eyes, standing nightmarishly high on the trail. I see a long tail, and a feline shape.
Alarms bells start echoing in my mind. COUGAR! THAT IS A MOTHER FUCKING COUGAR! I hear some sort of loud, gorilla like bellow, and quickly realize that it is coming from my gaping mouth. My body took over. "Chill out mind, I know what to do," it seemed to say to my brain. This is what it knew to do: continue yelling, throw my water bottle, and run at the cougar. "A gutsy bluff, body, hope this works," my mind responded to my body.
It worked fabulously. The cougar ran off trail, retreating into the dense desert scrub brush. I continued hiking for a few minutes, before I came upon a group of hikers camped out on the side of the trail. Hoping to avoid any further excitement I camped next to them, and fell asleep surprisingly easily. In the morning I asked the group if they had heard me yelling. None of them had. Another exciting day on the PCT.
I left the Sauffley's in the early afternoon, enjoyed a breakfast at a local bakery and returned to trail. The day started out with a few mile road walk, with traffic zooming by, dogs barking at me through rickety fences, and the sun reflecting off of the pavement. Unpleasant. I soon returned to a typical southern california stretch of the PCT: a meandering trail looping up and around medium sized hills with low bushes everywhere. The day began heating up, and since I was not carrying much water I decided to take a break during the heat of the day. With limited options of shade, I walked a few hundred yards off trail, draped all of my gear and clothing on the bare branches of a low shrub, and crawled inside of it in my underwear. I spent the next few hours looking and relooking at maps, and trying to start text message conversations with everyone I possibly could. (Thanks to those I talked to for keeping me company!)
While I was in Agua Dulce I forgot to pick up toilet paper, and so, back on trail I was faced with a crisis: an urgent need to have a bowel movement and nothing to use to clean up afterwards. I considered my options. Could I drag my hindquarters on the ground, like I see my dogs do? Probably not. Dog butts are unlike my butt, and the desert floor is littered with ants and things with the potential to spear things I do not want speared. What if I just did nothing, and 'walked it off' so to speak? Possible, but it seemed as if I had not yet devolved to quite that level of derangement. So I laid out every item of gear I had in my pack and considered each for their potential as a toilet paper substitute. I quickly decided that my best option was cutting up a pair of dirty socks in strips and using that. The results were positive.
Eventually the heat of the sun died down and I returned to trail to knock out a few more miles, with the intention of hiking into the night(joyfully using my new headlamp!). After nightfall, I found myself in the midst of a canyon densely packed with desert plants. Often times while hiking alone at night I can work myself up and give myself the creeps, but the feeling passes after 30 minutes or so. Tonight, the feeling lingered. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I could not shake the feeling that I was being followed. I studied the ground and saw TONS of big cat tracks and predator scat. I tried to talk myself down, seeking to calm myself with the impossibly low chances of mountain lion attacks, but the feeling remained: I was being hunted. I quickened my pace, and started to shine my headlamp behind me at regular intervals. I stood still, silent, and listened. Did I hear a rustling on the trail, or was it the imaginings of a frightened mind? Only silence now. I continued walking for a few minutes, came around a bend in the trail and then turned my headlamp off, waiting and listening for anything following me. Again I heard a soft sound coming up the trail. I turned my headlamp on, and pointed it up the trail where I heard the noise. My light was reflected in a pair of green eyes, standing nightmarishly high on the trail. I see a long tail, and a feline shape.
Alarms bells start echoing in my mind. COUGAR! THAT IS A MOTHER FUCKING COUGAR! I hear some sort of loud, gorilla like bellow, and quickly realize that it is coming from my gaping mouth. My body took over. "Chill out mind, I know what to do," it seemed to say to my brain. This is what it knew to do: continue yelling, throw my water bottle, and run at the cougar. "A gutsy bluff, body, hope this works," my mind responded to my body.
It worked fabulously. The cougar ran off trail, retreating into the dense desert scrub brush. I continued hiking for a few minutes, before I came upon a group of hikers camped out on the side of the trail. Hoping to avoid any further excitement I camped next to them, and fell asleep surprisingly easily. In the morning I asked the group if they had heard me yelling. None of them had. Another exciting day on the PCT.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
I tried to upload some photos but it takes 30 minutes or so for each picture, and I have very limited computer time, so it will have to wait for a while. I have been asked by numerous people where they could send me things, and now I have a list and when I will be there! These are the addresses that you would theoretically send to. Packages should be sent via Priority mail, or there is a good chance they will be lost. I find that the priority mail flat rate boxes work very well. What would I like to receive? Food, all kinds, and letters, all kinds. If you do send me something, please send me a text message at (253)278-8367 letting me know where you sent it, otherwise I will not know that I have anything to pick up.
Chris Scaniffe
c\o General Delivery
Tehachapi, CA 93561 I will be here may 24th
Chris Scaniffe
c\o General Delivery
Lake Isabella, CA 93240 I will be here may 29th
Chris Scaniffe
c/o KENNEDY MEADOWS GENERAL STORE
96740 BEACH MEADOW RD
INYOKERN CA 93527 I will be here June 2nd
Chris Scaniffe
c\o General Delivery
Independence, CA 93526 I will be here june 9th
Chris Scaniffe
c\o General Delivery
Tuolomne Meadows
Yosemite National Park, CA 95389 I will be here June 18th
Chris Scaniffe
c\o General Delivery
South Lake Tahoe, CA 96150-9997 I will be here June 26th
Chris Scaniffe
c\o General Delivery
Tehachapi, CA 93561 I will be here may 24th
Chris Scaniffe
c\o General Delivery
Lake Isabella, CA 93240 I will be here may 29th
Chris Scaniffe
c/o KENNEDY MEADOWS GENERAL STORE
96740 BEACH MEADOW RD
INYOKERN CA 93527 I will be here June 2nd
Chris Scaniffe
c\o General Delivery
Independence, CA 93526 I will be here june 9th
Chris Scaniffe
c\o General Delivery
Tuolomne Meadows
Yosemite National Park, CA 95389 I will be here June 18th
Chris Scaniffe
c\o General Delivery
South Lake Tahoe, CA 96150-9997 I will be here June 26th
May 18- mile 454.4 Zero miles hiked
Today I got a ride to REI where I picked up a Bear Can( a large hard plastic can that protects your food from bears. I will need this for the Sierra Nevada mountains which are quickly approaching), a new head lamp, and some new shoes. Ate at In-n-out burger for the first time. My totals(please note that this is after breakfast #1 and breakfast #2): 3 double cheeseburgers animal style, 3 orders of french fries, and a vanilla shake. Disgusting, but also kind of awesome.
Tonight I will rest, and gear up for the final stretch of the desert. I am feeling great, and am very happy about where I am.
Today I got a ride to REI where I picked up a Bear Can( a large hard plastic can that protects your food from bears. I will need this for the Sierra Nevada mountains which are quickly approaching), a new head lamp, and some new shoes. Ate at In-n-out burger for the first time. My totals(please note that this is after breakfast #1 and breakfast #2): 3 double cheeseburgers animal style, 3 orders of french fries, and a vanilla shake. Disgusting, but also kind of awesome.
Tonight I will rest, and gear up for the final stretch of the desert. I am feeling great, and am very happy about where I am.
May 17- Mile 444.2-454.4 (10.2 miles)
In the past two days I have walked over 60 miles. 60 miles. One hour of driving in an automobile on the interstate. In a car, mountains, rivers, and shade are all abstractions. On foot they are obstacles earned in sweat, life sustaining sources of water, and a respite from the unrelenting sun. Every day out of town my body becomes more and more soiled. Dirt clings to me. My clothes are stained. I have never been more filthy. Yet every drop of sweat seems cleansing. In contrast to my dirty physical state, psychologically and spiritually(whatever that means) I feel cleaner than I have ever felt.
I watch with a sort of detached interest how my body is changing to better suit the rigors of the trail. My skin has darkened and become more thick to protect against the sun. The muscle mass from my upper body is shrinking. I am becoming more thin. I am becoming harder, feral almost. These changes will all (hopefully) be temporary, and I have to sort of suspend my sense of vanity to enjoy them, but it is kind of nice to see a change with my body to match the change that I am feeling internally. Hopefully my psychological changes will be more long lasting than the physical ones. I am becoming more confident. More comfortable in my skin. More forgiving of my flaws and failures and mistakes. I feel happy, and at peace with where I am at.
I wake up early and hike a quick ten miles to a place called the home of Jeff and Donna Sauffley, also known as Hiker Heaven. Jeff and Donna Sauffley are legendary on the trail. Every year they open their home to scores of hikers. They make their computer's available to us(how I am posting this now), allow us to shower and do laundry, and have tons of cots set up for hikers to sleep on. This is an amazing place. I fraternize with the other hikers, pick up a resupply box that I had mailed here, and ride a bicycle(they also have 15 bicycles to assist hikers in getting to town) to town to eat a restaurant meal.
My appetite remains tremendous, and I am pouring food into my mouth constantly. I have lost less than 5 pounds so far, which I am very happy with. If I can continue eating at this pace, I hopefully will continue to not lose very much more weight. Tonight I will hang out with the rest of the Hiker Trash, eat more meals, and get a good nights sleep.
In the past two days I have walked over 60 miles. 60 miles. One hour of driving in an automobile on the interstate. In a car, mountains, rivers, and shade are all abstractions. On foot they are obstacles earned in sweat, life sustaining sources of water, and a respite from the unrelenting sun. Every day out of town my body becomes more and more soiled. Dirt clings to me. My clothes are stained. I have never been more filthy. Yet every drop of sweat seems cleansing. In contrast to my dirty physical state, psychologically and spiritually(whatever that means) I feel cleaner than I have ever felt.
I watch with a sort of detached interest how my body is changing to better suit the rigors of the trail. My skin has darkened and become more thick to protect against the sun. The muscle mass from my upper body is shrinking. I am becoming more thin. I am becoming harder, feral almost. These changes will all (hopefully) be temporary, and I have to sort of suspend my sense of vanity to enjoy them, but it is kind of nice to see a change with my body to match the change that I am feeling internally. Hopefully my psychological changes will be more long lasting than the physical ones. I am becoming more confident. More comfortable in my skin. More forgiving of my flaws and failures and mistakes. I feel happy, and at peace with where I am at.
I wake up early and hike a quick ten miles to a place called the home of Jeff and Donna Sauffley, also known as Hiker Heaven. Jeff and Donna Sauffley are legendary on the trail. Every year they open their home to scores of hikers. They make their computer's available to us(how I am posting this now), allow us to shower and do laundry, and have tons of cots set up for hikers to sleep on. This is an amazing place. I fraternize with the other hikers, pick up a resupply box that I had mailed here, and ride a bicycle(they also have 15 bicycles to assist hikers in getting to town) to town to eat a restaurant meal.
My appetite remains tremendous, and I am pouring food into my mouth constantly. I have lost less than 5 pounds so far, which I am very happy with. If I can continue eating at this pace, I hopefully will continue to not lose very much more weight. Tonight I will hang out with the rest of the Hiker Trash, eat more meals, and get a good nights sleep.
May 16, Mile 417-444.2 (27.2 miles)
At night I sleep so deeply that it is difficult to differentiate my sleep from death. In the mornings after a long mileage day I awake stiff, and spend the first 20 minutes of the day limping around. It feels as if I die every night, and that my corpse is reanimated in the morning and I must reteach myself to walk (the dead do not walk, only float). Looking at a thru-hiker in the morning, one would wonder, "how can this person possibly be walking 20+ miles day after day?!" We are hunkered down, limping, and moving at a glacial pace. After 30 minutes, we start to fly, and really begin to look like hikers.
I spent much of the day walking through the remains from the 2009 Station Fire, the 10th largest wildfire in Californian history. Towards mid-day I crest a mountain and find what looks like a burnt down town. I later find out that this was the site of a former prison camp where the prisoners were put to work fighting wild fires. The inside of all the concrete structures were all burnt out. Metal fences were warped into unrecognizable shapes. The only thing alive seemed to be Poodle Dog Bush, a poisonous plant similar to poison oak that thrives in burn areas. It looked like some sort of alien invasion. The plant is very tropical looking, and seems completely out of place in arid Southern California. Endless fields of Poodle Dog Bush, which causes painful blisters and rashes upon contact. Endless fields of Poodle Dog Bush, that I had to walk through. I later found, that this bloom of Poodle Dog Bush was the largest ever seen.
Poodle Dog Bush. The bane of my existence. I now hate Poodles(all of them), Dogs(all kinds), and Bushes(all kinds) for even having a name associate with this wretched plant. I spent the next few hours, winding my way through fields and fields of the poison bush, contorting my arms and legs to avoid all contact.
Finally, I make my way through the worst of the burn area and into more clear terrain. Right before dark I come upon a very kind young couple who offer to take me to a local Subway. I could not resist. Upon talking to them, I find that they are looking to thruhike the PCT next year, so I answer many of their questions and they make me feel like a minor celebrity. At Subway, I eat 2.5 feet of sandwich. My most yet. Soon, I will conquer 3 feet.
I camp in a small campground, after the couple drive me back to the trail.
At night I sleep so deeply that it is difficult to differentiate my sleep from death. In the mornings after a long mileage day I awake stiff, and spend the first 20 minutes of the day limping around. It feels as if I die every night, and that my corpse is reanimated in the morning and I must reteach myself to walk (the dead do not walk, only float). Looking at a thru-hiker in the morning, one would wonder, "how can this person possibly be walking 20+ miles day after day?!" We are hunkered down, limping, and moving at a glacial pace. After 30 minutes, we start to fly, and really begin to look like hikers.
I spent much of the day walking through the remains from the 2009 Station Fire, the 10th largest wildfire in Californian history. Towards mid-day I crest a mountain and find what looks like a burnt down town. I later find out that this was the site of a former prison camp where the prisoners were put to work fighting wild fires. The inside of all the concrete structures were all burnt out. Metal fences were warped into unrecognizable shapes. The only thing alive seemed to be Poodle Dog Bush, a poisonous plant similar to poison oak that thrives in burn areas. It looked like some sort of alien invasion. The plant is very tropical looking, and seems completely out of place in arid Southern California. Endless fields of Poodle Dog Bush, which causes painful blisters and rashes upon contact. Endless fields of Poodle Dog Bush, that I had to walk through. I later found, that this bloom of Poodle Dog Bush was the largest ever seen.
Poodle Dog Bush. The bane of my existence. I now hate Poodles(all of them), Dogs(all kinds), and Bushes(all kinds) for even having a name associate with this wretched plant. I spent the next few hours, winding my way through fields and fields of the poison bush, contorting my arms and legs to avoid all contact.
Finally, I make my way through the worst of the burn area and into more clear terrain. Right before dark I come upon a very kind young couple who offer to take me to a local Subway. I could not resist. Upon talking to them, I find that they are looking to thruhike the PCT next year, so I answer many of their questions and they make me feel like a minor celebrity. At Subway, I eat 2.5 feet of sandwich. My most yet. Soon, I will conquer 3 feet.
I camp in a small campground, after the couple drive me back to the trail.
May 15, Mile 383.8-417 ( 33.2 miles)
No bears last night! Due to an error with my pre-hike planning, I had no maps for the section between Wrightwood to Agua Dulce, a nearly 85 mile stretch. It makes sense then, that this would turn out to be the most confusing section of trail to date. I woke up early, hoping to make really good progress today after many consecutive days below 20 miles. My lofty goals were squashed after I got lost (LOST!) mid day. After a unremarkable morning of hiking, I came upon a road crossing where signs and an arrow pointed, apparently, to the Pacific Crest Trail. Without maps, I listen to the signs, and follow this trail up up up to the summit of a peak. While following this trail I get a feeling in my gut that this is not the right trail, and I think to myself, "this doesn't seem right. This is far too steep to be the PCT." A sensible man would listen to his gut, and turn around. Unfortunately, I have never been accused of being a sensible man. Eventually the trail I am following dies, and I am left on the top of an unnamed peak. My internal monologue starts screaming at me, "YOU ARE LOST! LOST! LOST! YOU ARE LOST AND YOU HAVE LITTLE WATER, AND NO MAPS! LOST LOST LOST LOST!"
I pace around a bit, find a clear area at the summit of the peak, and look at the surrounding areas for anything recognizable. Far below me in a valley, I see a very clear trail with the sort of wooden posts that traditionally mark the PCT. I head cross country down to this trail (LOST LOST LOST), and after thirty minutes of bushwacking, get back to my beloved trail. I look in both directions of the trail, take a compass reading(essentially useless without a map since the PCT does not take a direct North/South route) and end up heading in a direction that I think is assuredly right.
I was wrong. After a few hours of hiking I get back to a small campground that I had passed in the morning. I look at my watch. I had been in this same spot, 4 hours earlier (NO! GOD, WHY?!) I take stock of my situation, cursing myself endlessly. The next thing I decide to do is very strange, and I am not sure I can explain it why it helped, but it sure made me feel much better: I go into the backcountry privy, strip down completely nude, and sit with my head resting on my knees. Oddly, after about 15 minutes, I start to feel a lot better. I laugh at what I am doing, get dressed, and head back onto the trail. After a few hours I pass many of those that I had already passed in the morning. "What happened to you, Bambi, I thought you were ahead?!" "LOST!"
I eventually make my way to a campsite right at dark, well before where I had hoped to camp for the night. I lay down for a few minutes and then start to smell smoke. Wildfire smoke. I stand up and notice that the valley that I am above is rapidly filling with smoke. I think back to all of the wildfire burns that I had passed through during the past few days, of all the dried grass and arid lands that are laying all around me, and I decide to GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE.
I hike for a few more hours, well into the night. Around midnight I crest a ridge, in the midst of a burn area, and I can see the lights from the Inland Empire ( a large metropolitan area in Southern California) below me. The only sounds are of my breath and of the crunch of my footsteps on the charred ground below. My flashlight illuminated only a small sliver of the darkness. I was the seemingly the only living thing on this burnt ridge. I felt a profound loneliness, and imagined that I was feeling very similar to an Astronaut on a space walk, looking down at earth. Alone, a sole bastion of life surrounded by death, and staring down at the lights of the metropolis below me, knowing that down there is companionship, humanity, brotherhood. I will remember how I felt upon that ridge for the rest of my life.
I hike on for a few more hours and eventually lay down, fully clothed, alongside a forest service road, too exhausted to set up a proper camp. Considering all of the time I walked in the wrong direction, I am sure that I have covered over 40 miles today.
No bears last night! Due to an error with my pre-hike planning, I had no maps for the section between Wrightwood to Agua Dulce, a nearly 85 mile stretch. It makes sense then, that this would turn out to be the most confusing section of trail to date. I woke up early, hoping to make really good progress today after many consecutive days below 20 miles. My lofty goals were squashed after I got lost (LOST!) mid day. After a unremarkable morning of hiking, I came upon a road crossing where signs and an arrow pointed, apparently, to the Pacific Crest Trail. Without maps, I listen to the signs, and follow this trail up up up to the summit of a peak. While following this trail I get a feeling in my gut that this is not the right trail, and I think to myself, "this doesn't seem right. This is far too steep to be the PCT." A sensible man would listen to his gut, and turn around. Unfortunately, I have never been accused of being a sensible man. Eventually the trail I am following dies, and I am left on the top of an unnamed peak. My internal monologue starts screaming at me, "YOU ARE LOST! LOST! LOST! YOU ARE LOST AND YOU HAVE LITTLE WATER, AND NO MAPS! LOST LOST LOST LOST!"
I pace around a bit, find a clear area at the summit of the peak, and look at the surrounding areas for anything recognizable. Far below me in a valley, I see a very clear trail with the sort of wooden posts that traditionally mark the PCT. I head cross country down to this trail (LOST LOST LOST), and after thirty minutes of bushwacking, get back to my beloved trail. I look in both directions of the trail, take a compass reading(essentially useless without a map since the PCT does not take a direct North/South route) and end up heading in a direction that I think is assuredly right.
I was wrong. After a few hours of hiking I get back to a small campground that I had passed in the morning. I look at my watch. I had been in this same spot, 4 hours earlier (NO! GOD, WHY?!) I take stock of my situation, cursing myself endlessly. The next thing I decide to do is very strange, and I am not sure I can explain it why it helped, but it sure made me feel much better: I go into the backcountry privy, strip down completely nude, and sit with my head resting on my knees. Oddly, after about 15 minutes, I start to feel a lot better. I laugh at what I am doing, get dressed, and head back onto the trail. After a few hours I pass many of those that I had already passed in the morning. "What happened to you, Bambi, I thought you were ahead?!" "LOST!"
I eventually make my way to a campsite right at dark, well before where I had hoped to camp for the night. I lay down for a few minutes and then start to smell smoke. Wildfire smoke. I stand up and notice that the valley that I am above is rapidly filling with smoke. I think back to all of the wildfire burns that I had passed through during the past few days, of all the dried grass and arid lands that are laying all around me, and I decide to GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE.
I hike for a few more hours, well into the night. Around midnight I crest a ridge, in the midst of a burn area, and I can see the lights from the Inland Empire ( a large metropolitan area in Southern California) below me. The only sounds are of my breath and of the crunch of my footsteps on the charred ground below. My flashlight illuminated only a small sliver of the darkness. I was the seemingly the only living thing on this burnt ridge. I felt a profound loneliness, and imagined that I was feeling very similar to an Astronaut on a space walk, looking down at earth. Alone, a sole bastion of life surrounded by death, and staring down at the lights of the metropolis below me, knowing that down there is companionship, humanity, brotherhood. I will remember how I felt upon that ridge for the rest of my life.
I hike on for a few more hours and eventually lay down, fully clothed, alongside a forest service road, too exhausted to set up a proper camp. Considering all of the time I walked in the wrong direction, I am sure that I have covered over 40 miles today.
May 14, Mile 369-383 (14 Miles)
A quick note about trail culture: Most PCT thru-hikers are given a trail name, some moniker that reflects upon their personality or appearance, a mistake they have made, or some other inside joke. If someone has a really cool trail name, like Spitfire, or Dragon Heart, you can rest assured that they came up with it themselves. No thruhiker is going to give another hiker a name that bad ass. My trail name, Bambi, was given to me because for the first 450 miles of this hike I was wearing minimalist running shoes and had to sort of prance around rocks and walk around like a baby deer when the trail tread was very rough, hence, Bambi. Not the toughest name out here, but I think it is bad form to choose your own name.
Beautiful hiking today. I spent the morning finishing my town chores in Wrightwood, updating my blog, picking up final food items, ect., before heading back onto the trail. The trail dropped to a low saddle, and then climbed up, with endless switchbacking, up the slopes of 9,400 foot Mt. Baden-Powell. There is an alternate trail that lead to the summit of the mountain, and I could not resist climbing it. At the summit you could see the massive expanse of the Mojave Desert, which I will soon be crossing, far below, along with the LA skyline. After spending a few hours on the summit, I marched my way down the ridge to my camping spot for the night at Little Jimmy Springs. Another hiker, who lives in the area, told me that the last time he was at Little Jimmy Springs he had 4 black bears (count em: 1, 2, 3, 4!) try to get into his campsite at night. So, tonight was the first night that I had to worry about anything getting into my food. I peed in a circle around my campsite (does this work? Who knows?) to mark my territory, hung my food in a tree, and went to sleep.
A quick note about trail culture: Most PCT thru-hikers are given a trail name, some moniker that reflects upon their personality or appearance, a mistake they have made, or some other inside joke. If someone has a really cool trail name, like Spitfire, or Dragon Heart, you can rest assured that they came up with it themselves. No thruhiker is going to give another hiker a name that bad ass. My trail name, Bambi, was given to me because for the first 450 miles of this hike I was wearing minimalist running shoes and had to sort of prance around rocks and walk around like a baby deer when the trail tread was very rough, hence, Bambi. Not the toughest name out here, but I think it is bad form to choose your own name.
Beautiful hiking today. I spent the morning finishing my town chores in Wrightwood, updating my blog, picking up final food items, ect., before heading back onto the trail. The trail dropped to a low saddle, and then climbed up, with endless switchbacking, up the slopes of 9,400 foot Mt. Baden-Powell. There is an alternate trail that lead to the summit of the mountain, and I could not resist climbing it. At the summit you could see the massive expanse of the Mojave Desert, which I will soon be crossing, far below, along with the LA skyline. After spending a few hours on the summit, I marched my way down the ridge to my camping spot for the night at Little Jimmy Springs. Another hiker, who lives in the area, told me that the last time he was at Little Jimmy Springs he had 4 black bears (count em: 1, 2, 3, 4!) try to get into his campsite at night. So, tonight was the first night that I had to worry about anything getting into my food. I peed in a circle around my campsite (does this work? Who knows?) to mark my territory, hung my food in a tree, and went to sleep.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Monday, May 14th Mile 352-369 (17 miles)
Woke up early this morning and set off to finish the remainder of the climb up the ridge line. Once I crested the ridge I noticed that there was an enormous field of Poodledog Bush, a poisonous plant related to poison oak, growing right on the trail for about a quarter mile. I tiptoed my way through the field, trying to avoid any contact with my skin and my gear. Later into the day I met a hiker named Monk who is carrying a collapsible didgeridoo with him and was treated to a back country didgeridoo concert. Eventually I made my way down to the small mountain town of Wrightwood where I spotted a bunch of other hikers scurrying around town. Spotting a thruhiker in towns is very easy: look for sweaty guys with beards and inappropriately worn rain gear. Most of us are carrying no spare clothes, so we disrobe and walk around in rain gear while our laundry is being washed. It is miserably hot in the Californian sun wearing rain gear, so we are all pouring sweat. In town, I stop into the post office where I received a fantastic care package from a lovely day hiker named Melissa that I met in the San Jacintos. Dried fruit. Kale chips. Tons of great things. It was unbelievably kind of her to send me, a relative stranger, the package, and I am very much indebted to her for it. Thanks again, Melissa!
I split a room with a fellow hiker, enjoy a huge amount of town food and go to bed.
Woke up early this morning and set off to finish the remainder of the climb up the ridge line. Once I crested the ridge I noticed that there was an enormous field of Poodledog Bush, a poisonous plant related to poison oak, growing right on the trail for about a quarter mile. I tiptoed my way through the field, trying to avoid any contact with my skin and my gear. Later into the day I met a hiker named Monk who is carrying a collapsible didgeridoo with him and was treated to a back country didgeridoo concert. Eventually I made my way down to the small mountain town of Wrightwood where I spotted a bunch of other hikers scurrying around town. Spotting a thruhiker in towns is very easy: look for sweaty guys with beards and inappropriately worn rain gear. Most of us are carrying no spare clothes, so we disrobe and walk around in rain gear while our laundry is being washed. It is miserably hot in the Californian sun wearing rain gear, so we are all pouring sweat. In town, I stop into the post office where I received a fantastic care package from a lovely day hiker named Melissa that I met in the San Jacintos. Dried fruit. Kale chips. Tons of great things. It was unbelievably kind of her to send me, a relative stranger, the package, and I am very much indebted to her for it. Thanks again, Melissa!
I split a room with a fellow hiker, enjoy a huge amount of town food and go to bed.
Sunday May 12th mile 342-352 (10 miles)
Took it easy today to give my ankle a break. Hung out with other hikers in a patch of grass in front of a gas station, and filled my stomach with bad food. As a collective, sitting in the grass, the group of hikers all looked much like a refugee camp. I met a few of the more talked about colorful hikers that I had been looking forward to meeting, including a duo collectively called 'the swedes' and individually referred to as Laptop and Feather. These two Swedes came onto the trail doing very little research and showed up at the border with mountaineering boots(which are not necessary at any point of the trail) and enormous 75+ pound packs. Laptop was carrying a full size laptop, along with charger and neoprene case. They were unsure about water availability so they had 17 liters, or over 4 gallons, of water each. Unsure of food, they both were carrying upwards of 20 days of food supplies. It is only necessary for us to carry around 4 days of food at this point, as the resupply opportunities are frequent. One of the Swedes collapsed 6 miles into the hike, from the heat and the weight of his pack. Later in the first day, they set up camp in an enormous field of poison oak. There were signs surrounding the plant, warning people to avoid the poisonous plant, but the Swedes assumed that they just meant to not ingest it. A few other hikers went up to them to warn them and they responded with, "We know, we read the sign," much to the chagrin of those who were warning them. They are great guys, and have obviously made some changes in their gear, but they have still built up quite a reputation. They are keeping up a good pace, and are both very strong hikers.
I also met a duo who have been deemed "The Wildboys." They are brothers who are carrying a crossbow with them and spend hours each day setting up traps for animals. So far they have only caught, and eaten, a few snakes. They walk barefoot on the trail. Interesting dudes to say the least.
Eventually I pulled away from the crowd and left town towards early evening and hiked into the night to avoid the heat in the surrounding hills. We were faced with a long, 15 mile climb from 2500 feet up to a ridge at 8500 feet. I cowboy camped on a logging road, after only 10 miles into the day. My ankle is feeling much better.
Took it easy today to give my ankle a break. Hung out with other hikers in a patch of grass in front of a gas station, and filled my stomach with bad food. As a collective, sitting in the grass, the group of hikers all looked much like a refugee camp. I met a few of the more talked about colorful hikers that I had been looking forward to meeting, including a duo collectively called 'the swedes' and individually referred to as Laptop and Feather. These two Swedes came onto the trail doing very little research and showed up at the border with mountaineering boots(which are not necessary at any point of the trail) and enormous 75+ pound packs. Laptop was carrying a full size laptop, along with charger and neoprene case. They were unsure about water availability so they had 17 liters, or over 4 gallons, of water each. Unsure of food, they both were carrying upwards of 20 days of food supplies. It is only necessary for us to carry around 4 days of food at this point, as the resupply opportunities are frequent. One of the Swedes collapsed 6 miles into the hike, from the heat and the weight of his pack. Later in the first day, they set up camp in an enormous field of poison oak. There were signs surrounding the plant, warning people to avoid the poisonous plant, but the Swedes assumed that they just meant to not ingest it. A few other hikers went up to them to warn them and they responded with, "We know, we read the sign," much to the chagrin of those who were warning them. They are great guys, and have obviously made some changes in their gear, but they have still built up quite a reputation. They are keeping up a good pace, and are both very strong hikers.
I also met a duo who have been deemed "The Wildboys." They are brothers who are carrying a crossbow with them and spend hours each day setting up traps for animals. So far they have only caught, and eaten, a few snakes. They walk barefoot on the trail. Interesting dudes to say the least.
Eventually I pulled away from the crowd and left town towards early evening and hiked into the night to avoid the heat in the surrounding hills. We were faced with a long, 15 mile climb from 2500 feet up to a ridge at 8500 feet. I cowboy camped on a logging road, after only 10 miles into the day. My ankle is feeling much better.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Saturday May 11th- Mile 310-342 (32 miles)
This was the biggest mile day of my trip so far, and I paid for it. Very high heat today, as I was at low elevation. I pushed too hard during the heat of the day and felt burnt out (literally and figuratively) by nighttime. I reached a confusing junction in the trail as I reached town (a pull out on the interstate) and I ended up having to bushwack through thick brush and climb my way through a barbed wire fence to reach the hotel I planned on staying at. In the process I got covered in biting ants (too many ants everywhere!), and looked like a maniac walking into the hotel lobby covered in brambles and slapping at every newly discovered ant. Not much to say about today. It was hot, and long and tough. My ankle swelled up towards the 20 mile mark, and downhills were agonizing. When I got to my room, I sat for a long time in the tub, and then turned off my brain by watching television.
This was the biggest mile day of my trip so far, and I paid for it. Very high heat today, as I was at low elevation. I pushed too hard during the heat of the day and felt burnt out (literally and figuratively) by nighttime. I reached a confusing junction in the trail as I reached town (a pull out on the interstate) and I ended up having to bushwack through thick brush and climb my way through a barbed wire fence to reach the hotel I planned on staying at. In the process I got covered in biting ants (too many ants everywhere!), and looked like a maniac walking into the hotel lobby covered in brambles and slapping at every newly discovered ant. Not much to say about today. It was hot, and long and tough. My ankle swelled up towards the 20 mile mark, and downhills were agonizing. When I got to my room, I sat for a long time in the tub, and then turned off my brain by watching television.
Friday, May 10- mile 285-310 (25 miles)
I woke up to sunny skies, a stark contrast to the night before. The weather was warm and I could feel myself become reinvigorated by the sun. I missed the warm weather very much. Great spirits today. I hiked on and off with a few other hikers, and spent a pleasant, if unremarkable,morning walking in the foothills of the mountains surrounding Big Bear. Around the 20 mile mark I made it to a natural hot springs in the middle of the desert where I was confronted with one of the more bizarre scenes I have ever seen.
The hot springs consist of a large complex of stone pools next to a creek in a small canyon. One of the first things I see upon entering the complex is a group of 5 topless girls,who look to be in their twenties, soaking in one of the pools. They are all sitting around a man in his mid to late 40's, impossibly tanned, with a flowing mane of thick blond hair. Upon seeing me he gets out of the pool, exposing his nightmarishly large genitals. He slowly(far slower than necessary) wrapped some sort of loincloth around his aforementioned genitalia(also impossibly tan), walked towards me, and introduced himself as 'Hippy Dave.' I greet him and he shrugs his shoulders, looks back at the girls and says, "Chicks, man." I say, "yeah," as if I have some sort of idea what he is talking about and can sympathize with him (I can not). I take a quick dip in the hot springs, and then head back to the trail. I camp on the side of a ridge on a clear, warm, desert night, on a ledge overlooking the twinkling lights of the inland empire.
I woke up to sunny skies, a stark contrast to the night before. The weather was warm and I could feel myself become reinvigorated by the sun. I missed the warm weather very much. Great spirits today. I hiked on and off with a few other hikers, and spent a pleasant, if unremarkable,morning walking in the foothills of the mountains surrounding Big Bear. Around the 20 mile mark I made it to a natural hot springs in the middle of the desert where I was confronted with one of the more bizarre scenes I have ever seen.
The hot springs consist of a large complex of stone pools next to a creek in a small canyon. One of the first things I see upon entering the complex is a group of 5 topless girls,who look to be in their twenties, soaking in one of the pools. They are all sitting around a man in his mid to late 40's, impossibly tanned, with a flowing mane of thick blond hair. Upon seeing me he gets out of the pool, exposing his nightmarishly large genitals. He slowly(far slower than necessary) wrapped some sort of loincloth around his aforementioned genitalia(also impossibly tan), walked towards me, and introduced himself as 'Hippy Dave.' I greet him and he shrugs his shoulders, looks back at the girls and says, "Chicks, man." I say, "yeah," as if I have some sort of idea what he is talking about and can sympathize with him (I can not). I take a quick dip in the hot springs, and then head back to the trail. I camp on the side of a ridge on a clear, warm, desert night, on a ledge overlooking the twinkling lights of the inland empire.
Thursday, May 9th. Mile 266-285 (19 miles)
I got a late start this morning, wanting to take advantage of the rented room. I bought groceries for the next stretch of trail, had a final town meal, and hitched a ride back to the trail. For the nearly 48 hours that I was in Big bear it did not rain one drop, despite forecasts for bad weather, but as luck would have it, the minute I stepped back on trail dark clouds started rolling in. It was an easy hike back up to the ridge line, and I was enjoying my time lost in thought with the miles passing effortlessly. The trail, with its unrelenting malevolence, must have sensed that things were a little too Idyllic and decided that it was time for me to get some 'fear training' in. I had just crested the ridge line when the skies erupted: thunder shook the ground, sounding like a passing freight train. Lightning shot through the sky. Hail pelted my head and shoulders. I was immediately transformed from my current form: a semi-brave, strapping, 26 year old man, to the 6 year old me: a nervous child, who thought that danger lurked around every corner and who mistrusted cats because of the way their eyes glowed in the dark. I started running, and was making noises like a frightened baby bat. I lost it. I questioned how I got myself into this situation, what I was doing here, and imagining every possible alternative. Eventually I made my way down off the ridge, out of the storm, and set up camp, where I spent a wet night under my shelter.
I got a late start this morning, wanting to take advantage of the rented room. I bought groceries for the next stretch of trail, had a final town meal, and hitched a ride back to the trail. For the nearly 48 hours that I was in Big bear it did not rain one drop, despite forecasts for bad weather, but as luck would have it, the minute I stepped back on trail dark clouds started rolling in. It was an easy hike back up to the ridge line, and I was enjoying my time lost in thought with the miles passing effortlessly. The trail, with its unrelenting malevolence, must have sensed that things were a little too Idyllic and decided that it was time for me to get some 'fear training' in. I had just crested the ridge line when the skies erupted: thunder shook the ground, sounding like a passing freight train. Lightning shot through the sky. Hail pelted my head and shoulders. I was immediately transformed from my current form: a semi-brave, strapping, 26 year old man, to the 6 year old me: a nervous child, who thought that danger lurked around every corner and who mistrusted cats because of the way their eyes glowed in the dark. I started running, and was making noises like a frightened baby bat. I lost it. I questioned how I got myself into this situation, what I was doing here, and imagining every possible alternative. Eventually I made my way down off the ridge, out of the storm, and set up camp, where I spent a wet night under my shelter.
Wednesday May 8th. Mile 266. Big Bear, CA
I took a zero day today(a day where one hikes zero miles). My first of the trip so far. Rented a room at a local Motel Six. I ate tons of broccoli, apples, and loads of other far less healthy edibles. Kombucha! I was taking antibiotics earlier in the trip, so there was a psychological boost from drinking some probiotics. I took a shower (ecstasy!), did some laundry(some smells do not wash out) and lounged in bed watching the NBA playoffs and text messaging my good friend Nick about sports. It was a slice of normalcy, and I really soaked it up. In the middle of the night I awoke with a start, wondering where I was. It will take a while to get used to waking up in a new place every night.
I took a zero day today(a day where one hikes zero miles). My first of the trip so far. Rented a room at a local Motel Six. I ate tons of broccoli, apples, and loads of other far less healthy edibles. Kombucha! I was taking antibiotics earlier in the trip, so there was a psychological boost from drinking some probiotics. I took a shower (ecstasy!), did some laundry(some smells do not wash out) and lounged in bed watching the NBA playoffs and text messaging my good friend Nick about sports. It was a slice of normalcy, and I really soaked it up. In the middle of the night I awoke with a start, wondering where I was. It will take a while to get used to waking up in a new place every night.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Never mind! Fixed the order of the posts. As an unabashed Luddite, it takes me a while to get the hang of all of this fancy technology.
A few days ago I watched another hiker eat a tortilla that was filled with the following: peanut butter, honey, foil packet salmon, foil packet tuna, foil packet spam, and cheese. Pretty gross, yeah? What is even more disconcerting, is that the rest of us were drooling while watching him eat it.
A few days ago I watched another hiker eat a tortilla that was filled with the following: peanut butter, honey, foil packet salmon, foil packet tuna, foil packet spam, and cheese. Pretty gross, yeah? What is even more disconcerting, is that the rest of us were drooling while watching him eat it.
El, Cajon
may, 12th
El Cajon, CA! 33 Miles hiked yesterday. 342 miles in. I am hustle hustle hustling. Wanted to get to town to call my lovely Mother for Mothers day. A few days ago I met an aging nudist hippy in the middle of the desert at a natural hot springs who had what appeared to be a harem of 20 something girls, and impossibly large genitalia. Will write more about it in an upcoming post. Order of the blog is a little off. The most recently posted entries were from my first few days on trail. I had not yet got the hang of journaling at that point, so they are a little arduous to read. There are a few more already cocked and ready to be posted and should be up soon, and I will mail a few new ones home tomorrow or tuesday.
El Cajon, CA! 33 Miles hiked yesterday. 342 miles in. I am hustle hustle hustling. Wanted to get to town to call my lovely Mother for Mothers day. A few days ago I met an aging nudist hippy in the middle of the desert at a natural hot springs who had what appeared to be a harem of 20 something girls, and impossibly large genitalia. Will write more about it in an upcoming post. Order of the blog is a little off. The most recently posted entries were from my first few days on trail. I had not yet got the hang of journaling at that point, so they are a little arduous to read. There are a few more already cocked and ready to be posted and should be up soon, and I will mail a few new ones home tomorrow or tuesday.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
wednesday may 8th
Hey folks, in Big Bear, CA. 266 miles in, or about 10% done. I think that today I am going to just rest and eat and take a day off. I am in the town library and was able to type some of my journals up. Brittany is going to put some of my previous journals up in the next day or so, so I should be pretty much up to date on here. For the next two hundred miles or so I will be heading West, towards Los Angeles, and making essentially zero northward progress. Ugh! Still feeling great. I miss you all!
tuesday may 7
Tuesday may 7th mile 246 to mile 266 20 miles
Similar to yesterday. Bad weather still around, but I was only 20 miles out of the town of Big Bear CA where I would be able to rent a bed, escape the elements, and get some good food in me. A few miles into the day's hike I hear a loud roaring coming from directly where I am heading. I have an idea of what is coming up, but the sound still stirs a primal, visceral, fear in me. I soon come upon some tiny cages where grizzly bears, lions, and tigers, were held. These animals are apparently used for movies. I could not help but compare my circumstance, the unlimited and bountiful freedom of this hike, to theirs, imprisoned in a steel fortress, and it soured my mood for the next few miles.
Hours and miles passed and I was getting towards the outskirts of big bear when I come upon what looks to be a stray dog with it's ears back, staring at my on the trail. It was black, without collar, and probably 80lbs. I yell for any owners and hear no response. Dogs, for some reason, seem to be uncomfortable around people wearing backpacks, so to avoid any sort of bad encounter I yell at it and throw a few rocks to scare it away. Immediately afterwards, I hear two guys yelling expletives and see them running towards me. I sprint, off trail, up a hill and hike is some bushes out of sight. For nearly an hour I hear them cursing and presumably looking for me. In this trail world of rattlesnakes, bears, ticks, and risks of heat and cold, it seems as if human beings are still the biggest threat of all. After the coast was clear, I strolled into town. A little later than expected, but no worse for the wear. My first stop: Subway. I consumed two foot long subs in one sitting and then walked to a local hostel where I booked a bed, caught up on journaling, ate another meal, and called it a night.
Similar to yesterday. Bad weather still around, but I was only 20 miles out of the town of Big Bear CA where I would be able to rent a bed, escape the elements, and get some good food in me. A few miles into the day's hike I hear a loud roaring coming from directly where I am heading. I have an idea of what is coming up, but the sound still stirs a primal, visceral, fear in me. I soon come upon some tiny cages where grizzly bears, lions, and tigers, were held. These animals are apparently used for movies. I could not help but compare my circumstance, the unlimited and bountiful freedom of this hike, to theirs, imprisoned in a steel fortress, and it soured my mood for the next few miles.
Hours and miles passed and I was getting towards the outskirts of big bear when I come upon what looks to be a stray dog with it's ears back, staring at my on the trail. It was black, without collar, and probably 80lbs. I yell for any owners and hear no response. Dogs, for some reason, seem to be uncomfortable around people wearing backpacks, so to avoid any sort of bad encounter I yell at it and throw a few rocks to scare it away. Immediately afterwards, I hear two guys yelling expletives and see them running towards me. I sprint, off trail, up a hill and hike is some bushes out of sight. For nearly an hour I hear them cursing and presumably looking for me. In this trail world of rattlesnakes, bears, ticks, and risks of heat and cold, it seems as if human beings are still the biggest threat of all. After the coast was clear, I strolled into town. A little later than expected, but no worse for the wear. My first stop: Subway. I consumed two foot long subs in one sitting and then walked to a local hostel where I booked a bed, caught up on journaling, ate another meal, and called it a night.
monday may 6th
Monday May 6th- mile 218 to mile 246 28 miles.
I woke up early and hiked quickly throughout the day. The storm I was trying to avoid had hit, and I was stuck hiking in clouds the entire day. I remember essentially nothing about the trail as I could see nothing but my immediate surroundings. It was cold, and wet, and a mild death march. At night I camped under a shelter at 9,000 feet amongst the pine. Temperatures fell into the 20s. I wore all of my clothes, including rain gear, into my sleeping bag and slept reasonably well.
I woke up early and hiked quickly throughout the day. The storm I was trying to avoid had hit, and I was stuck hiking in clouds the entire day. I remember essentially nothing about the trail as I could see nothing but my immediate surroundings. It was cold, and wet, and a mild death march. At night I camped under a shelter at 9,000 feet amongst the pine. Temperatures fell into the 20s. I wore all of my clothes, including rain gear, into my sleeping bag and slept reasonably well.
sunday may 5th
Sunday May 5th- Mile 206-mile 218 12 miles
I awoke at 6:00AM from the light of the desert sun, and walked through an already windy area, as evidenced by the innumerable windmills around me, in a windstorm. I was tossed back and forth as I slowly made my way to the house of Ziggy and the Bear, an elderly couple that opens their home to hikers for showers, water, and camping. I stopped in to pick up the package of food that I had mailed to myself and took a quick shower before heading back into the wind. Going on only four hours of sleep, I only made it ten more miles before deciding to call it a day. I stopped at a small nature preserve that lets hikers camp in a big field and set up my tent at 7:00pm for a restorative nights sleep.
The nature preserve is in an interesting geological position, being that it is in a river valley surrounded by high cliffs. This interesting geological position leads to interesting meteorological effects: wind. A ton of it. The wind started blowing in earnest at 9:00pm and for a while it was mild enough that it only pressed the fabric of my shelter into my face and flapped loudly. Then, it started to really gust. My tent was knocked down 3 times during the course of the night before I gave up and carried all of my things into a backcountry bathroom and slept on the floor. It may sound unpleasant, but it was by far the most restful sleep I have yet had on the trail.
I awoke at 6:00AM from the light of the desert sun, and walked through an already windy area, as evidenced by the innumerable windmills around me, in a windstorm. I was tossed back and forth as I slowly made my way to the house of Ziggy and the Bear, an elderly couple that opens their home to hikers for showers, water, and camping. I stopped in to pick up the package of food that I had mailed to myself and took a quick shower before heading back into the wind. Going on only four hours of sleep, I only made it ten more miles before deciding to call it a day. I stopped at a small nature preserve that lets hikers camp in a big field and set up my tent at 7:00pm for a restorative nights sleep.
The nature preserve is in an interesting geological position, being that it is in a river valley surrounded by high cliffs. This interesting geological position leads to interesting meteorological effects: wind. A ton of it. The wind started blowing in earnest at 9:00pm and for a while it was mild enough that it only pressed the fabric of my shelter into my face and flapped loudly. Then, it started to really gust. My tent was knocked down 3 times during the course of the night before I gave up and carried all of my things into a backcountry bathroom and slept on the floor. It may sound unpleasant, but it was by far the most restful sleep I have yet had on the trail.
Saturday May 4th
Saturday, May 4th: Mile 179(plus devils slide trail out of idyllwild- 2.6miles) to mile 206. 29.6 miles
Even trying to calculate the cumulative loss and gain in elevation of this section makes my knees hurt. The rest of my hiker friends stayed in Idyllwild to take a day off, and I pushed off alone. The weather forecast reported thunderstorms, wind, and rain starting Sunday at noon. I wanted to try to race the storm out of the area (SPOILER ALERT: I lost), so I climbed up and out of Idyllwild onto the ridgeline of the San Jacinto mountains.
Even with the gain of 4,000 feet+ of elevation, I was feeling very strong physically. Mentally I was stuck in a set of circular, negative thoughts and was feeling very lonely with all of the new hiker faces around. Running into a new pack of hikers feels much like being a new kid in school, so I was feeling extremely self aware. I was walking in a funk when I ran into a woman, Melissa, from San Diego (Melissa! Hello if you are reading this!) who was out for a day hike. I stopped and talked with her for nearly thirty minutes and she offered to send me some brownies further up the trail. Feeling better, I continued up the trail.
Towards the end of the day I faced an obstacle named "fuller ridge." Why is fuller ridge an obstacle? Simply put, it is an enormous ridge of Mt. San Jacinto and is a 15 mile switchbacking descent from 9,000 feet down to 1,500 feet onto the desert floor. There is no water during its entire length, and with Fuller ridge, the word "descent" is used very loosely as the ridge includes several steep climbs. If you actually like descending on descents, you should probably avoid looking at an elevation profile of the ridge to save yourself some heartache. There were many times on the way down when I would take a switchback down and see that the trail on the switchback above me was only five or so feet up.
Okay, so you get it: Fuller Ridge is long, hot, and a terrible place to hike. How, you may ask, did I plan to tackle this challenge? Why, with a SOLO NIGHT HIKE, of course! At the start, my solo desert night hike was one of the most liberating, empowering, experiences of my life. Walking amongst sage and chapparal, with the crunch of my shoes on the dusty soil the only thing breaking the unforgiving, endless silence of the desert night. The milky way was visible above me and I felt like I was truly a part of this landscape. Part of creation. One with the earth. A man without time. I felt young. I felt strong. I felt as if maybe, just maybe, I could be the one person to crack the riddle of mortality and live forever. This lasted until about 25 miles into my day. The remaining 5 were a different story all together.
In a ten minute period my flashlight stopped working, wind gusts of 50-60mph erupted from the slopes of the ridge, I ran out of water, and exhaustion kicked in. Without water I was not eating. I became the walking dead. All of my humanity left me and I became a purely sensory being. I had no past or future. I felt only the wind, the relentless wind, my thirst, and my heart beating. My mind was devoid of all higher thought as I staggered through the darkness, barely keeping on bath. This was my new life: the desert walker. I knew nothing else.
After what seemed like an eternity I came upon my goal: a water fountain strangely places in the middle of the desert floor. It seemed like a hallucination. It was not. A problem arises when one tries to obtain water from a water fountain when the wind is blowing in excess of 50mpg; none of the water gets where you want it to go. I spent over thirty minutes filling my water containers and taking an unwanted shower in the process.
I drank deeply. I ate. It was good.
I tucked my sleeping bag in between two small desert shrubs to provide myself with at least the illusion of a wind break, and I slept. It was 2:00AM
Even trying to calculate the cumulative loss and gain in elevation of this section makes my knees hurt. The rest of my hiker friends stayed in Idyllwild to take a day off, and I pushed off alone. The weather forecast reported thunderstorms, wind, and rain starting Sunday at noon. I wanted to try to race the storm out of the area (SPOILER ALERT: I lost), so I climbed up and out of Idyllwild onto the ridgeline of the San Jacinto mountains.
Even with the gain of 4,000 feet+ of elevation, I was feeling very strong physically. Mentally I was stuck in a set of circular, negative thoughts and was feeling very lonely with all of the new hiker faces around. Running into a new pack of hikers feels much like being a new kid in school, so I was feeling extremely self aware. I was walking in a funk when I ran into a woman, Melissa, from San Diego (Melissa! Hello if you are reading this!) who was out for a day hike. I stopped and talked with her for nearly thirty minutes and she offered to send me some brownies further up the trail. Feeling better, I continued up the trail.
Towards the end of the day I faced an obstacle named "fuller ridge." Why is fuller ridge an obstacle? Simply put, it is an enormous ridge of Mt. San Jacinto and is a 15 mile switchbacking descent from 9,000 feet down to 1,500 feet onto the desert floor. There is no water during its entire length, and with Fuller ridge, the word "descent" is used very loosely as the ridge includes several steep climbs. If you actually like descending on descents, you should probably avoid looking at an elevation profile of the ridge to save yourself some heartache. There were many times on the way down when I would take a switchback down and see that the trail on the switchback above me was only five or so feet up.
Okay, so you get it: Fuller Ridge is long, hot, and a terrible place to hike. How, you may ask, did I plan to tackle this challenge? Why, with a SOLO NIGHT HIKE, of course! At the start, my solo desert night hike was one of the most liberating, empowering, experiences of my life. Walking amongst sage and chapparal, with the crunch of my shoes on the dusty soil the only thing breaking the unforgiving, endless silence of the desert night. The milky way was visible above me and I felt like I was truly a part of this landscape. Part of creation. One with the earth. A man without time. I felt young. I felt strong. I felt as if maybe, just maybe, I could be the one person to crack the riddle of mortality and live forever. This lasted until about 25 miles into my day. The remaining 5 were a different story all together.
In a ten minute period my flashlight stopped working, wind gusts of 50-60mph erupted from the slopes of the ridge, I ran out of water, and exhaustion kicked in. Without water I was not eating. I became the walking dead. All of my humanity left me and I became a purely sensory being. I had no past or future. I felt only the wind, the relentless wind, my thirst, and my heart beating. My mind was devoid of all higher thought as I staggered through the darkness, barely keeping on bath. This was my new life: the desert walker. I knew nothing else.
After what seemed like an eternity I came upon my goal: a water fountain strangely places in the middle of the desert floor. It seemed like a hallucination. It was not. A problem arises when one tries to obtain water from a water fountain when the wind is blowing in excess of 50mpg; none of the water gets where you want it to go. I spent over thirty minutes filling my water containers and taking an unwanted shower in the process.
I drank deeply. I ate. It was good.
I tucked my sleeping bag in between two small desert shrubs to provide myself with at least the illusion of a wind break, and I slept. It was 2:00AM
Friday May 3rd
After hiking into Idyllwild, I ate a lot, and then I went to sleep in the campground. The end.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Idyllwild
Idyllwild, CA. 180 miles in. Today I ate an entire 16 inch pizza to myself. Yesterday I stepped on a rattlesnake and did not even get bitten. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. Mailed a few more journals home, so keep checking for updates soon.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Update
Passed the 100 mile mark yesterday morning. Mailing some journals home to be put on here. Check for them at the end of this week or so. Only have a few minutes of computer time out here, so I have to make this short. Things have been going very well so far. No feet or blister problems. It is very hot, but I have really been enjoying the desert. Keep checking here every so often!
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Water… Water…
Day 1: Mexican Border to Lake Morena (20.6 miles)
After flying into San Diego
yesterday, this morning an older couple from Idaho and I got a ride to the border to
begin our hikes. I couldn’t help but be reminded of my yearly first day of school
as a child. Nervous excitement abounded as our host looked on with pride in his
eyes. We were left with a hug and wishes of good luck and sent off into the
arid heat of the border lands. Interesting note about the Southern Terminus of
the PCT: It reeks of human piss. Who knew? At the border there were border
patrol trucks everywhere, and helicopters screaming across the sky. All this
time I assumed that the border patrol was just making a nominal effort to deter
immigrants when in fact, they are battling full force. So off I set.
Temperatures were in the high 80’s to low 90’s. There were maybe fifteen people
at the border sign, most of whom I quickly passed. From then on I went three or
four hours without seeing a soul. I spent a good period of the alone time
scaring myself into thinking I was hearing rattlesnakes scurrying in the brush,
or dangerous coyotes (the immigrant leading kind) ready to take all of my water
and money. I had brought four liters of water for this 20.6 mile section, and
at fifteen miles in and facing a 1500 ft. climb, I only had 0.5 liters of
water left. I learned an important lesson about water conservation today. The final
five miles were wretched. My lips cracked, my head ached, I was the walking
dead. Toward the end of the day I ran into three folks from Washington—Lou, a
thru-hiker from Hood Canal, Jesse, a thru-hiker from Seattle, and Jesse’s
father who was joining her for the first section. Jesse’s family drove us to a
taco stand near the border where I ate with a shocking ferocity and ending my
first day with a torta, fish tacos, and a cold beer. No complaints here. Okay
just one: After arriving at the campsite and guzzling a half gallon of water in
one go, I was informed that it was contaminated with Uranium. D’oh!
The Fellowship
Day 2: Mile 20.6 to Mile 42.6 (22 miles)
Woke up early and started hiking at 0600. Morning was clear
and crisp and the kike began by climbing above the lake I camped at last night.
I was alone and looking across to surrounding peaks, covered in a shroud of fog
thinking about how fortunate I was to be here enjoying it. After a while, I
caught up with Lou who started earlier than I did. In Lou’s previous life, he
was an on board helicopter mechanic for the Air Force, and has tons of great
stories about his time in the service. He told me he had been in five (!)
crashes, including one where he walked away and everyone else had perished. I
spent the day walking and talking with Jesse, Lou, and another thru-hiker Chip,
a three time AT veteran. I really felt like part of a community today and it
helped the miles pass more quickly. At night we came to Mt Laguna Lodge where
Lou and I split a room. A shower and a bit of beer and food make me feel human
again. Very sleepy after a long day. Ate spaghetti with Jesse’s family, who is
extremely generous and kind. I will immediately fall asleep after writing this
final thought. It is fascinating how intimate the trail relationships become so
quickly. Lou and I will be sharing a bed tonight as if it is nothing and I have
only met him a little over twenty-four hours ago. Climbed up to 6,000 ft. today
and was amazed by the lushness of the environment Pine trees! Feels somehow
much closer to home.
Day 3: Mile 42.6 to Mile 59.5 (17 miles)
Late start today. Left the lodge at 1100 am after picking up
some food at the store. I was invited over to Jesse’s family’s room for eggs
and pancakes. They are amazing, generous people. I am struck by how willing
other people are to help out us hikers in this seemingly meaningless endeavor.
Beautiful walking today. The entire day skirted the edge of the Laguna Mountains
with views of the desert floor below. The green and relative lushness of the
high elevation to the scorching desert floor miles below. Met a guy in the
middle of the day who initially tried to start the PCT on April, 5th,
but on his first day got lost, then wondered around the desert for two days,
trying to find his way. He went twenty-four hours without water in 95 degree
heat and eventually passed out and had to get rescued. He told me he only eats
peanut butter and white bread for every meal, and for snacks, he eats candy.
Quite the character!
Spent most of the day hiking alone before reuniting with Lou
and Jesse to end the day. Ate poorly for a few hours and I totally ran out of
energy toward the evening. Moral was low. I was humorless and negative about
this hike. After sitting down and eating dinner, (an entire orange, including
the peel along with cold mashed potato powder mixed with foil package spam and
some of Lou’s pepperoni. I am becoming hard as hell.) I felt a million times
better. Funny how quickly moods can change. I find that this is boiling me down
to my basic instincts and my focus is 100% on food, water, and warmth. The
simplicity of this life is something I enjoy very much. I really enjoyed the
end of the day. Beautiful sunset. Lots of joking around. This is how life
should always be. I camped in the grass field next to a trail head parking lot.
There are holes in the ground everywhere and I have seen toads in many of them.
Sorry toads. Lou tried to look elsewhere. Tonight, we are bunk mates.
Day 4: Mile 59.5 to Mile 77, Sunrise Trail Head to Scissors Crossing (17.5
miles)
Hot Hot Hot! Drank water from my first horse trough today.
Easy hiking in the morning; ten miles to water, then it got HOT. Temperatures
reached at least 120 degrees, which is as high as my thermometer goes. Took a
four hour break. Too hot to hike. I am burning through food. Feels as if I cannot
eat enough. Hopefully once I get my resupply box with my more nutritious food
tomorrow, things will improve. Extreme highs and lows today, and lots of self
doubt. Questioning my mental aptitude for difficulty. Recognizing that I am a
life long quitter and front runner , and I want that to change. Hiked into the
night down into the desert floor. Got a nosebleed that I could not stop. It
lasted at least thirty minutes. I’m too fatigued to write much else. Tired and
hungry…
Julian, CA
Hitched in this morning and ate an enormous breakfast of
machoca juevos rancheros. I apologize to anyone reading this. I find that by
the end of the day my vocabulary and writing ability become very delayed from
mental and physical exhaustion. I will need to clean it up and write with more
depth once I return home. Had my first close encounter with a rattlesnake
yesterday. They are perfectly camouflaged with surroundings and it is near
impossible to spot them. I nearly stepped on it before it buzzed me. Today I
will pick up my food supply box from the post office (Vitamins! Fish oil! Actually
nourishing food!) and then head back to the trail.
Night Hiking
Day 5: Mile 77 to Mile 91.2 Scissors Crossing to Third Gate
Cache (14.2 miles)
After getting my resupply box in Julian, I get a call from
Lou saying that a lady from a local restaurant gave him her car and house keys
and told him he could shower, wash clothes, and relax there. He gladly accepted
and earned himself the trail name Lady Killer. He kindly asked if his friends
could come, which included me. I sprinted through the town over to where her
truck was parked and hopped in. My clothes were covered in blood from my
nosebleeds and dirt from living and sleeping like an animal, so I was eager to
get them washed and take a shower. After some well needed TLC, we returned to
trail via hitchhiking and resume our march North. I sped ahead of the group
and climbed into the dusty San Felipe Hills. The scene was reminiscent of a
cowboy movie desert. Cactus abounded and all of the foliage was short, squat,
and tough. After an hour or so I sat down to eat a snack (my resupply box is
amazing. The protein powder/powdered milk packages I made feel like rocket
fuel) and was caught by Jesse who had a close encounter with a baby
rattlesnake. It was on trail and would not respond to the usual hiker intimidation
tactics of throwing rocks and yelling. She had to bushwhack up a steep slope to
avoid it, so naturally when she caught up to me she was a little on edge and
suffering from what I like to call Imaginary Rattler Syndrome, or IRS. Every
twitch of the grass would really kick it into gear. To get to the next water
required a fifteen mile hike. The moon was out so we were able to walk without
our head lamps, eventually arriving at the water cache at 2:00am, where we
collapsed, exhausted onto our respective sleeping pads.
Day 6: Mile 91.2 to Mile 105.5, Third Gate Cache to Eagle Rock
(14.3 miles)
Woke up at 0600 after getting into camp from a night hike at
0230. It starts getting hot out here once the sun rises, so it’s impossible to
get any sleep after 0630. Jess wanted to sleep and we lost Lou last night so I
struck out alone on a long, twisting descent to the next water source. Nothing
interesting happened. I spent my time lost in thought, going over the way I act
and examining why. This hike is providing me with an uncomfortable amount of
thinking time. I am forced to really see myself without all of the lies and
self inflation that surround you during day to day life You go through
difficulties and are forced to work through it. It is exceptionally empowering and
revealing. Camped in a beautiful grass field overlooking the next town I will
stop in tomorrow. In the middle of the night, Lou passed by, and Jesse camped
nearby. Tomorrow morning I will hike into Warner Springs.
Monday, April 22, 2013
The nitty-gritty
I will attempt to post blog posts as often as I possibly can, but as you can imagine, computer access while I am on the trail will be spotty at best. I will be keeping a daily journal and will mail that back to Washington, where the lovely Brittany Casey will transcribe my scribblings onto this blog. Due to this, it may get updated once a week or less frequently. Keep checking back if I have not posted something in a few days. Pictures will be posted whenever possible, but I am still a little unsure of the logistics with that. Feel free to ask any questions. I will try to answer them as quickly as I possibly can. Thanks for following along.
-Chris
Embark!
Touched down in San Diego a few hours ago. I am relaxing at the house of a guy who hosts Pacific Crest trail hikers, and readying myself for my journey north. Already, I am blessed by the kindness and generosity of others. I embark from the Mexican border early tomorrow morning, and am filled with excitement, and fear, and all sorts of things. 2,663 miles of walking to Canada. Tomorrow, a dream becomes realized.
Standing at the precipice of this event that I have thought about for years is a very strange thing. Since I was a teenager, I have felt that this trail is something that I have needed to try. For better, or for worse, something about this hiking path has pulled me in. How will it change how I feel about myself if I find that I do not like it, or that I cannot do it? What if this dream, something that I have used to define myself, turns out to be something that I neither want nor need? I will be coming face to face with many fears, some of which I have held onto for years. One of the reasons that I am doing this trail is that I have made a lot of decisions in my life based on FEAR: fear of failure, fear of commitment, fear of death. I no longer want to live like that. If I am successful, and get what I hope to out of this hike, and am no longer governed by these fears, who will I become?
This trip will be a rebirth of sorts. It is hard. It is scary. It takes a lot of commitment. That is why it is important. Trying this is going to make me a better man. So, here I am. I have done all of the things that I can do to prepare for this. All that is left is doing it. It feels big.
Standing at the precipice of this event that I have thought about for years is a very strange thing. Since I was a teenager, I have felt that this trail is something that I have needed to try. For better, or for worse, something about this hiking path has pulled me in. How will it change how I feel about myself if I find that I do not like it, or that I cannot do it? What if this dream, something that I have used to define myself, turns out to be something that I neither want nor need? I will be coming face to face with many fears, some of which I have held onto for years. One of the reasons that I am doing this trail is that I have made a lot of decisions in my life based on FEAR: fear of failure, fear of commitment, fear of death. I no longer want to live like that. If I am successful, and get what I hope to out of this hike, and am no longer governed by these fears, who will I become?
This trip will be a rebirth of sorts. It is hard. It is scary. It takes a lot of commitment. That is why it is important. Trying this is going to make me a better man. So, here I am. I have done all of the things that I can do to prepare for this. All that is left is doing it. It feels big.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)