Up at 6:30 and cleaned the burned batter off my pan from yesterday’s breakfast, then slowly got my things together, ate, drank more coffee, and finally rolled out of VVR at around 10.
I like that place. It’s too expensive, but there’s a nice atmosphere, and the employees seem less interested in taking all my money, despite the high prices. Also, we were able to play Scrabble all day and into the night on the restaurant’s patio. The waitress, Olive, hung out with us as we played, and we all joked around together.
Today, though. Right. Back up the road, back up the Bear Ridge Trail, back onto the PCT. Nothing too exciting, just ten miles or so amidst swarming mosquitoes. They’re getting more annoying as we lose elevation. I’ve been swatting at my arms all day. The only good thing about mosquitoes is how easy they are to kill, and today I massacred them. In the mosquito language, I am known simply as “The Black Doom,” and adults tell their larvae horrifying (but true) stories to keep them from acting up. Sometimes, I just knock mosquitoes out, and those rare survivors go back to their mosquito families and friends changed, haunted forever by visions of my terrifying giant hand wiping out all of the mosquitoes around them in one powerful sweep.
Anyway, we’re camped by a lake up in the mountains a couple miles short of Silver Pass. I am very cold. G’night.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Tuesday, June 23—Day 62
Took a zero at VVR today. We rediscovered bottomless coffee and Scrabble, both of which we enjoyed for hours. Between games, we walked two miles up the road to make calls on Tom’s phone at the only place he could get a strong signal.
We really did play Scrabble pretty much all day, and I don’t think I’ve enjoyed myself more in some time. This place is pretty expensive, but we’ve managed to keep the food bills low. For breakfast this morning, I bought a jug of shake-and-pour pancake batter mix for $2. I tried to make campfire pancakes, but ended up eating a lot of clumpy batter, which was still tasty and filling. You learn to not be picky out here.
We’re hiking out tomorrow. Not too early, I hope, because it’s late and all my stuff is spread out everywhere. Also, if we’re still here when the restaurant opens at 7, I can get more coffee. Something I’m becoming very fond of. ‘Night.
We really did play Scrabble pretty much all day, and I don’t think I’ve enjoyed myself more in some time. This place is pretty expensive, but we’ve managed to keep the food bills low. For breakfast this morning, I bought a jug of shake-and-pour pancake batter mix for $2. I tried to make campfire pancakes, but ended up eating a lot of clumpy batter, which was still tasty and filling. You learn to not be picky out here.
We’re hiking out tomorrow. Not too early, I hope, because it’s late and all my stuff is spread out everywhere. Also, if we’re still here when the restaurant opens at 7, I can get more coffee. Something I’m becoming very fond of. ‘Night.
Monday, June 22—Day 61
Sixty days! Two months! (Paul mis-numbered his entries, so yesterday was actually the big day.)
Two months of walking all day with a pack on my back. Two months of sleeping in a tent and going to the bathroom outside. Two months of beard on my face and two months of hair on my head. We’ve come 877 miles, and we’re feeling good.
Nothing too exciting today. We hiked ten miles to Selden Pass, crossed over the top, and put in another thirteen to the Bear Ridge Trail Junction. Five and a half more took us through swampy muck to a road, and another four or so finally brought us into Vermillion Valley Resort right before dark. A big day. The guy running the store gave us each a free beer, and we picked up our box and sorted our food by headlamp light on the porch.
There were about ten minutes where I had all of us believe that I’d left my bear canister at the top of Selden Pass, before I discovered it under my pack, where I’d left it and forgotten about it not long before. Smart.
There’s a bonfire and hikers are drinking around it and yelling. This is not a problem for me, because I can sleep through anything, and I’m real tired. ‘Night.
Two months of walking all day with a pack on my back. Two months of sleeping in a tent and going to the bathroom outside. Two months of beard on my face and two months of hair on my head. We’ve come 877 miles, and we’re feeling good.
Nothing too exciting today. We hiked ten miles to Selden Pass, crossed over the top, and put in another thirteen to the Bear Ridge Trail Junction. Five and a half more took us through swampy muck to a road, and another four or so finally brought us into Vermillion Valley Resort right before dark. A big day. The guy running the store gave us each a free beer, and we picked up our box and sorted our food by headlamp light on the porch.
There were about ten minutes where I had all of us believe that I’d left my bear canister at the top of Selden Pass, before I discovered it under my pack, where I’d left it and forgotten about it not long before. Smart.
There’s a bonfire and hikers are drinking around it and yelling. This is not a problem for me, because I can sleep through anything, and I’m real tired. ‘Night.
Sunday, June 21—Day 60
By 7 am, today was the worst day I’ve had out here.
Woke up to a cold, cold morning after drifting in and out of a cold, cold night. Breakfast was an experiment: couscous soaked in cold water instead of hot, to save fuel. It was edible, but the morning air turned the water residue in my pot to frost before I could clean it. I went back to my tent and tried to pull out the stakes, but two of them were frozen into the ground, and I broke one of the loops on my rain fly trying to pull one out. Frustrated, I left them in the ground and packed up without them.
Our first few miles took us to a wide stream with no easy way across. Tom and Jerry rolled up their pant legs and forded it in their socks and shoes. The thought of soaking my boots when they’d finally dried, and then squishing around in the cold was too much for me.
I found an almost complete line of rocks going from one side to the other. There was just one step missing. I pulled a rock out of the hillside and tossed it in. It splashed perfectly into place. Success! I stepped onto the first rock, the second (my addition) and then the third. “This is going to work,” I thought. It wasn’t. The third rock was coated in a sheet of ice. As I began to slip, I leapt back to the second rock. It shifted under my weight, and I lost my balance and fell in. FURIOUS, I forded the stream as Tom and Jerry had, with socks and boots on. By now, they were long gone, and I squished up the trail on frozen feet, half soaked and never angrier at the Sierras!
After I caught up with Tom and Jerry, we made our way up Muir Pass, the last of the big mountain passes. It was a long walk on ice-coated snow to the top, but we made it. There is a stone shack at the top dedicated to the memory of John Muir, whose trail we’ve been hiking for the last week or so. The inside is just a round room with a bench encircling the perimeter, and a blocked-off fireplace. We stayed long enough to eat some snacks and take a few pictures, and then headed down the other side of the pass.
The trail took us past mountain lakes and through beautiful meadows. Later in the evening, we hit the Evolution Creek Crossing. The water was flowing fast and strong, and there was no way across, except to ford. Unfortunately, the water was too deep for rolled up pant legs. There was only one option. We took off our pants and waded in bare-assed, one at a time. The water came up to our waists, and the current almost pulled me off balance. We made it across all right, although very cold.
The rest of the day was easy. We found a good campsite at an established campground and had a fire, the first one all our own. I feel good about things right now. Just one more big day, and then we go into Vermillion Valley Resort. G’night.
Woke up to a cold, cold morning after drifting in and out of a cold, cold night. Breakfast was an experiment: couscous soaked in cold water instead of hot, to save fuel. It was edible, but the morning air turned the water residue in my pot to frost before I could clean it. I went back to my tent and tried to pull out the stakes, but two of them were frozen into the ground, and I broke one of the loops on my rain fly trying to pull one out. Frustrated, I left them in the ground and packed up without them.
Our first few miles took us to a wide stream with no easy way across. Tom and Jerry rolled up their pant legs and forded it in their socks and shoes. The thought of soaking my boots when they’d finally dried, and then squishing around in the cold was too much for me.
I found an almost complete line of rocks going from one side to the other. There was just one step missing. I pulled a rock out of the hillside and tossed it in. It splashed perfectly into place. Success! I stepped onto the first rock, the second (my addition) and then the third. “This is going to work,” I thought. It wasn’t. The third rock was coated in a sheet of ice. As I began to slip, I leapt back to the second rock. It shifted under my weight, and I lost my balance and fell in. FURIOUS, I forded the stream as Tom and Jerry had, with socks and boots on. By now, they were long gone, and I squished up the trail on frozen feet, half soaked and never angrier at the Sierras!
After I caught up with Tom and Jerry, we made our way up Muir Pass, the last of the big mountain passes. It was a long walk on ice-coated snow to the top, but we made it. There is a stone shack at the top dedicated to the memory of John Muir, whose trail we’ve been hiking for the last week or so. The inside is just a round room with a bench encircling the perimeter, and a blocked-off fireplace. We stayed long enough to eat some snacks and take a few pictures, and then headed down the other side of the pass.
The trail took us past mountain lakes and through beautiful meadows. Later in the evening, we hit the Evolution Creek Crossing. The water was flowing fast and strong, and there was no way across, except to ford. Unfortunately, the water was too deep for rolled up pant legs. There was only one option. We took off our pants and waded in bare-assed, one at a time. The water came up to our waists, and the current almost pulled me off balance. We made it across all right, although very cold.
The rest of the day was easy. We found a good campsite at an established campground and had a fire, the first one all our own. I feel good about things right now. Just one more big day, and then we go into Vermillion Valley Resort. G’night.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Saturday, June 20—Day 59
A hard-fought 20 miles today. We woke up at 5:30, took down camp, and headed up Mather Pass. The snow was still icy and slick in the morning air, which made the pass dangerous, but still (to me) preferable to postholing and hiking in wet socks for the rest of the day.
Speaking of which, we didn’t have to ford anything today! My boots have finally dried out, and I’m pretty happy about it.
We had lunch near a stream. The water was clear enough to see to the bottom, and there were fish swimming around. Tom caught one, cooked it, and ate it. Jerry caught one and let it go. I was too busy making mashed potatoes to bother trying.
After lunch, the trail took us into gorgeous pine forests. This is a beautiful place, and it seems to jump-start my memory, which brings back totally unrelated moments from my childhood as I hike. I’ve been thinking about home all day, about family and friends and old times and future plans, and about how I’m not going to take things for granted anymore. I’ve also been thinking about how much further we still have to go. Truthfully, I’ve never felt so much like quitting and going home as I did today. I think I’m safe for now, though, because our next stop, Vermillion Valley Resort, is still two days away, and short of being airlifted, there’s no way for me to leave the trail before then. I can do this. One step at a time. ‘Night.
Speaking of which, we didn’t have to ford anything today! My boots have finally dried out, and I’m pretty happy about it.
We had lunch near a stream. The water was clear enough to see to the bottom, and there were fish swimming around. Tom caught one, cooked it, and ate it. Jerry caught one and let it go. I was too busy making mashed potatoes to bother trying.
After lunch, the trail took us into gorgeous pine forests. This is a beautiful place, and it seems to jump-start my memory, which brings back totally unrelated moments from my childhood as I hike. I’ve been thinking about home all day, about family and friends and old times and future plans, and about how I’m not going to take things for granted anymore. I’ve also been thinking about how much further we still have to go. Truthfully, I’ve never felt so much like quitting and going home as I did today. I think I’m safe for now, though, because our next stop, Vermillion Valley Resort, is still two days away, and short of being airlifted, there’s no way for me to leave the trail before then. I can do this. One step at a time. ‘Night.
Friday, June 19—Day 58
Pinchot Pass sucked. We’d camped seven miles short last night, and I found myself tired and sluggish for those seven miles. The area before the pass was beautiful. Grassy meadows with Deer grazing, unafraid. Blue skies, lakes, and the bright orange and deep green of pine trees, all framed by rocky, snowy mountains.
When the trail began to climb up the pass, things changed. There was a lot of snow on the south side of the pass, and the sun had already warmed it to melting. I postholed the whole way up, sinking in to my shins, my knees, my hips. Trying to get out of hip-deep snow is exhausting after a while, and when we finally crossed over the top of the pass, I was both triumphant, and a sort of poor winner, saying all sorts of terrible things and making gestures at the slopes behind us. The mountains returned the favor, as we had to ford river crossing after river crossing, each one wider and faster than the last. For every ford, I took off my boots and socks, rolled up my pant legs, and stepped in the freezing cold water. The current tried to sweep my feet out from under me, and almost succeeded a few times. The water pushed and pounded my legs, reaching halfway up my thighs and soaking my pants, and it was all I could do to keep my balance, stepping carefully and not so carefully on the rocks along the bottom. None of us fell in, but we were soaked and freezing anyway when we finally set up camp. I can still hear the roar of water all around me. I miss the desert. ‘Night.
When the trail began to climb up the pass, things changed. There was a lot of snow on the south side of the pass, and the sun had already warmed it to melting. I postholed the whole way up, sinking in to my shins, my knees, my hips. Trying to get out of hip-deep snow is exhausting after a while, and when we finally crossed over the top of the pass, I was both triumphant, and a sort of poor winner, saying all sorts of terrible things and making gestures at the slopes behind us. The mountains returned the favor, as we had to ford river crossing after river crossing, each one wider and faster than the last. For every ford, I took off my boots and socks, rolled up my pant legs, and stepped in the freezing cold water. The current tried to sweep my feet out from under me, and almost succeeded a few times. The water pushed and pounded my legs, reaching halfway up my thighs and soaking my pants, and it was all I could do to keep my balance, stepping carefully and not so carefully on the rocks along the bottom. None of us fell in, but we were soaked and freezing anyway when we finally set up camp. I can still hear the roar of water all around me. I miss the desert. ‘Night.
Thursday, June 18—Day 57
Made it through the night without being murdered by poisonous spiders, and met up with Kevin, our ride to the trailhead. Kevin had stopped as we were hitching to Lone Pine from Independence, and after driving us to town and showing us around, had given us his card in case we needed a ride to the trailhead later. What a guy!
After he dropped us off, we began the four mile climb back up to Kearsarge Pass. It took a long time, and I lost a cherry pie along the way, not realizing it later, whereupon I threw my pack around in a tantrum.
Still, lost pies aside, the climb wasn’t too hard at all, and, although my body started out still sore from days before, I soon felt great to be hiking again, gaining ground and putting miles behind us. We made our way up to Glen Pass and slipped, slid, and postholed down the snowy slopes on the other side. We stopped at the beautiful Rae Lakes for lunch on top of some rocks, and I got my second sunburn of the trail. Third. I forgot that the sun, reflecting off the snow, burns just as well as the sun shining straight down, and ended up with a sunburn after Forrester Pass.
Next is Pinchot Pass. Like Bronson Pinchot, Balki from “Perfect Strangers.” I wonder if that show’ out on DVD yet. ‘Night.
After he dropped us off, we began the four mile climb back up to Kearsarge Pass. It took a long time, and I lost a cherry pie along the way, not realizing it later, whereupon I threw my pack around in a tantrum.
Still, lost pies aside, the climb wasn’t too hard at all, and, although my body started out still sore from days before, I soon felt great to be hiking again, gaining ground and putting miles behind us. We made our way up to Glen Pass and slipped, slid, and postholed down the snowy slopes on the other side. We stopped at the beautiful Rae Lakes for lunch on top of some rocks, and I got my second sunburn of the trail. Third. I forgot that the sun, reflecting off the snow, burns just as well as the sun shining straight down, and ended up with a sunburn after Forrester Pass.
Next is Pinchot Pass. Like Bronson Pinchot, Balki from “Perfect Strangers.” I wonder if that show’ out on DVD yet. ‘Night.
Wednesday, June 17—Day 56
Blah blah Independence Lone Pine blah. Let me tell you about just now.
We’re back at the campground we stayed at the night before last. It’s half a mile out of Independence, bordering the road, and there’s a fee required ($10 per vehicle) to stay. We came in at night, and are not paying, since we don’t have a vehicle. It seems silly to pay to camp on a patch of dirt with broken glass everywhere when we camp in better spots for free on the trail, and we’re poor.
Right. Anyway. So, we pick a site, the closest one to the entrance off the road. There’s a fire pit and a picnic table with big spiderwebs underneath. We choose our spots and set up our tents. I’m just throwing my sleeping pad and bag into my own tent when I see movement under the table. I point my headlamp, and there, crawling around one of the webs, is a giant black spider with long, spindly legs. On its huge, disproportioned backside, I can see the red hourglass markings. It’s a BLACK WIDOW. And there, on the other side of the table, is ANOTHER ONE. AND ANOTHER. We set up camp right in BLACK WIDOW TOWN.
We have moved away from the table, although still too close for my tastes. All my stuff is inside my tent tonight. It’s a good thing that all our tents are in good shape, that nobody’s zipper is malfunctioning and leaving Black Widow-sized gaps open at night.
Suddenly, I miss home even more. Night.
We’re back at the campground we stayed at the night before last. It’s half a mile out of Independence, bordering the road, and there’s a fee required ($10 per vehicle) to stay. We came in at night, and are not paying, since we don’t have a vehicle. It seems silly to pay to camp on a patch of dirt with broken glass everywhere when we camp in better spots for free on the trail, and we’re poor.
Right. Anyway. So, we pick a site, the closest one to the entrance off the road. There’s a fire pit and a picnic table with big spiderwebs underneath. We choose our spots and set up our tents. I’m just throwing my sleeping pad and bag into my own tent when I see movement under the table. I point my headlamp, and there, crawling around one of the webs, is a giant black spider with long, spindly legs. On its huge, disproportioned backside, I can see the red hourglass markings. It’s a BLACK WIDOW. And there, on the other side of the table, is ANOTHER ONE. AND ANOTHER. We set up camp right in BLACK WIDOW TOWN.
We have moved away from the table, although still too close for my tastes. All my stuff is inside my tent tonight. It’s a good thing that all our tents are in good shape, that nobody’s zipper is malfunctioning and leaving Black Widow-sized gaps open at night.
Suddenly, I miss home even more. Night.
Tuesday, June 16—Day 55
Woke up to rain this morning, but I was warm and dry in my tent. I put off writing until way too late, and now I’m real tired, so this will be short.
Independence is small. We picked up our food box and got a hitch to Lone Pine, which is bigger, to pick up a package Tom had sent there. There is a McDonald’s. I ate five double cheeseburgers and three McCheeses. And a McFlurry.
My beard is a force to be reckoned with.
We’re staying at the Something Villa Whatever Hotel. It’s cheap and the shower is down the hall, so I walked around in a towel. No one could hear anything over the collective sighs of all the ladies that were just swooning all over the place. It’s like, hey, control yourselves, right?
It’s so late at night! I usually go to sleep at, like, nine.
We’ve crossed the highest elevation on the trail, Forrester Pass. There’ll be hard times ahead, but I know we can do this. Just one foot in front of the other. Good night!
Independence is small. We picked up our food box and got a hitch to Lone Pine, which is bigger, to pick up a package Tom had sent there. There is a McDonald’s. I ate five double cheeseburgers and three McCheeses. And a McFlurry.
My beard is a force to be reckoned with.
We’re staying at the Something Villa Whatever Hotel. It’s cheap and the shower is down the hall, so I walked around in a towel. No one could hear anything over the collective sighs of all the ladies that were just swooning all over the place. It’s like, hey, control yourselves, right?
It’s so late at night! I usually go to sleep at, like, nine.
We’ve crossed the highest elevation on the trail, Forrester Pass. There’ll be hard times ahead, but I know we can do this. Just one foot in front of the other. Good night!
Monday, June 15—Day 54
Big, big day today. We woke up at four (!) to get to Forrester Pass as early as possible. First, though, we ran into some problems.
We have been very fortunate on this adventure in that nearly every creek, stream, or river we had to cross was well bridged in some way. Today, however, we met our match in Tyndall Creek, a wide body of fast flowing water. The few rocks that sat in the creek were icy and dangerous, and left gaps too large to jump anyway. After searching up and downstream, it was clear that we’d have to ford it. I took off my boots and socks, rolled up my pant legs, and stepped in. The water was icy cold, and my feet were almost numb by the time I made it to the other side. If the Sierras are this cold in mid-June, I don’t want to think about what winter must be like up here.
We made it to the base of Forrester Pass by nine. The trail had been partially obscured by snow, and sets of footprints left by other hikers led straight up the slope. We followed them with difficulty, picking up the switchbacks of the trail where they weren’t covered, and scrambled up sections of loose, rocky mountainside. It was a dangerous climb.
When we finally made it to the top, we congratulated ourselves briefly before looking down the other side. There was snow everywhere, and the trail was nowhere to be seen. We picked a set of footprints that ran to the left and followed them carefully down the slope. By now, the sun had softened the snow, and I stepped through a few times, sinking down to my hips. After a few slips and some close calls, we made it down to the bottom, and headed to the treeline for lunch. My boots and socks were (are) completely soaked, and the sun had disappeared behind heavy clouds, taking with it any chance of drying them. I sloshed for four miles before the trail took an upward turn.
We had mistakenly (stupidly) been under the impression that, from Forrester, it would be a downhill to where we split off to enter Independence. This was way wrong. In order to get to Independence, we’d have to cross Kearsarge Pass, another two-or-three thousand foot climb. Since we had no choice, we climbed up to our second pass of the day. Halfway up, I was totally exhausted. I shuffled up the slope at glacial speed, 100 steps at a time. Between breaks to lean on my poles, catch my breath, and wonder how I would ever get through the rest of the Sierras. At one point, I got so hungry that I ate a bag of couscous without cooking it, just poured the dry pasta in my mouth. It was very crunchy.
I did make it to the top eventually, and after a short break, we started the descent down the other side, ending four miles later in a parking lot, where a guy named Rick gave us a ride into town.
We are in Independence. The thing I’m most excited about is that, for the first time in two weeks, I have phone service. I’m gonna call the hell out of people! Tomorrow. ‘Night.
We have been very fortunate on this adventure in that nearly every creek, stream, or river we had to cross was well bridged in some way. Today, however, we met our match in Tyndall Creek, a wide body of fast flowing water. The few rocks that sat in the creek were icy and dangerous, and left gaps too large to jump anyway. After searching up and downstream, it was clear that we’d have to ford it. I took off my boots and socks, rolled up my pant legs, and stepped in. The water was icy cold, and my feet were almost numb by the time I made it to the other side. If the Sierras are this cold in mid-June, I don’t want to think about what winter must be like up here.
We made it to the base of Forrester Pass by nine. The trail had been partially obscured by snow, and sets of footprints left by other hikers led straight up the slope. We followed them with difficulty, picking up the switchbacks of the trail where they weren’t covered, and scrambled up sections of loose, rocky mountainside. It was a dangerous climb.
When we finally made it to the top, we congratulated ourselves briefly before looking down the other side. There was snow everywhere, and the trail was nowhere to be seen. We picked a set of footprints that ran to the left and followed them carefully down the slope. By now, the sun had softened the snow, and I stepped through a few times, sinking down to my hips. After a few slips and some close calls, we made it down to the bottom, and headed to the treeline for lunch. My boots and socks were (are) completely soaked, and the sun had disappeared behind heavy clouds, taking with it any chance of drying them. I sloshed for four miles before the trail took an upward turn.
We had mistakenly (stupidly) been under the impression that, from Forrester, it would be a downhill to where we split off to enter Independence. This was way wrong. In order to get to Independence, we’d have to cross Kearsarge Pass, another two-or-three thousand foot climb. Since we had no choice, we climbed up to our second pass of the day. Halfway up, I was totally exhausted. I shuffled up the slope at glacial speed, 100 steps at a time. Between breaks to lean on my poles, catch my breath, and wonder how I would ever get through the rest of the Sierras. At one point, I got so hungry that I ate a bag of couscous without cooking it, just poured the dry pasta in my mouth. It was very crunchy.
I did make it to the top eventually, and after a short break, we started the descent down the other side, ending four miles later in a parking lot, where a guy named Rick gave us a ride into town.
We are in Independence. The thing I’m most excited about is that, for the first time in two weeks, I have phone service. I’m gonna call the hell out of people! Tomorrow. ‘Night.
Sunday, June 14—Day 53
The Green Shark has a malfunctioning zipper, and I could not be more annoyed about it.
We climbed Mt. Whitney, as promised. It was a tough four miles or so up snowy switchbacks, the air too thin for normal breathing. We climbed for four or five hours before finally reaching the top. It was very cold up there! The bite valve on my hydration tube kept freezing, and I would have to chew on it to crush the ice crystals blocking the tube to get water. At the top of the mountain, there is a stone cabin, a shelter for anyone who climbs up. I did not go inside, choosing instead to check out the view, which was beyond description. Snowy mountains on all sides bowed down below us. We were kings.
I had a cell phone signal for the first time in nearly two weeks, and managed to make two quick calls before it was time to go. I wish I could have stayed up there longer, despite the freezing cold, but we were in a hurry.
The climb down went very quickly. Almost too quickly, once or twice. The snow was softening as noon approached, and my feet slid around on the drifts. My trekking poles saved me more than once, and I can’t believe I haven’t broken them yet. Near the bottom, the footsteps of previous hikers led us down a steep snowy slope. Instead of creeping carefully down the hills, I ran at full force. The air at the bottom was warm, and when I finally stopped, I took off my jacket and stood in the sun. I have learned to appreciate warmth.
Tomorrow we’re going to climb Forrester Pass, which is at something like 13,000 feet. It’s going to be another big day. ‘Night.
We climbed Mt. Whitney, as promised. It was a tough four miles or so up snowy switchbacks, the air too thin for normal breathing. We climbed for four or five hours before finally reaching the top. It was very cold up there! The bite valve on my hydration tube kept freezing, and I would have to chew on it to crush the ice crystals blocking the tube to get water. At the top of the mountain, there is a stone cabin, a shelter for anyone who climbs up. I did not go inside, choosing instead to check out the view, which was beyond description. Snowy mountains on all sides bowed down below us. We were kings.
I had a cell phone signal for the first time in nearly two weeks, and managed to make two quick calls before it was time to go. I wish I could have stayed up there longer, despite the freezing cold, but we were in a hurry.
The climb down went very quickly. Almost too quickly, once or twice. The snow was softening as noon approached, and my feet slid around on the drifts. My trekking poles saved me more than once, and I can’t believe I haven’t broken them yet. Near the bottom, the footsteps of previous hikers led us down a steep snowy slope. Instead of creeping carefully down the hills, I ran at full force. The air at the bottom was warm, and when I finally stopped, I took off my jacket and stood in the sun. I have learned to appreciate warmth.
Tomorrow we’re going to climb Forrester Pass, which is at something like 13,000 feet. It’s going to be another big day. ‘Night.
Saturday, June 13—Day 52
Didn’t sleep so well last night, despite camping early. The wind picked up at night and made the walls of my tent flap back and forth. This is not unusual, but the sound was similar to that of footsteps crunching on the pinecones and needles around my tent. I kept expecting to see lumbering shadows cast on my rain fly, or a large, furry head pop up under my vestibule to grab my pack in its teeth. I call this “Bearanoia.”
We made it through the night un-beared and left camp at 6:30 am to put in some tough miles. I’m not great at climbing, to be honest, and climbing past 10,000 feet seems much harder. It’s worth noting that Jerry, who hikes normally at a slower pace, is way better at uphill stuff than me. To this end, on bigger climbs I usually fall back and shuffle uphill like an old man, meeting Tom and Jerry at the top. When it comes to downhill or level ground, or even slightly uphill hiking, I am like lightning, though. Rest assured.
We made it to Crabtree Meadow, a gorgeous field of grass with a river flowing through and snow-capped mountains in the distance. One of those mountains is Mt. Whitney, which I’m told is the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States. We’re going to climb it tomorrow. It’s not part of the trail, but we’re here, and close as we’ll ever be.
We parted ways with Steve, who is not climbing Whitney, and set off on the trail to Guitar Lake, which lies at the base of the mountain. We set up camp 2 miles short in a rocky field, made dinner down by the river that runs alongside the trail (I can hear the water pounding) and set our bear canisters some distance away from our tents. Tomorrow is going to be a big day. Goodnight.
We made it through the night un-beared and left camp at 6:30 am to put in some tough miles. I’m not great at climbing, to be honest, and climbing past 10,000 feet seems much harder. It’s worth noting that Jerry, who hikes normally at a slower pace, is way better at uphill stuff than me. To this end, on bigger climbs I usually fall back and shuffle uphill like an old man, meeting Tom and Jerry at the top. When it comes to downhill or level ground, or even slightly uphill hiking, I am like lightning, though. Rest assured.
We made it to Crabtree Meadow, a gorgeous field of grass with a river flowing through and snow-capped mountains in the distance. One of those mountains is Mt. Whitney, which I’m told is the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States. We’re going to climb it tomorrow. It’s not part of the trail, but we’re here, and close as we’ll ever be.
We parted ways with Steve, who is not climbing Whitney, and set off on the trail to Guitar Lake, which lies at the base of the mountain. We set up camp 2 miles short in a rocky field, made dinner down by the river that runs alongside the trail (I can hear the water pounding) and set our bear canisters some distance away from our tents. Tomorrow is going to be a big day. Goodnight.
Friday, June 12—Day 51
11,000 feet, and it is getting cold! The mosquitoes, at least, were not an issue today.
Here is a problem: when I’m not hiking, the wind makes me very cold. In the morning, and at every break, I am freezing. So, I put on extra layers. Problem solved! But, once I start hiking, I become warm. Now, I’m wearing extra layers, and I can either stop to take them off, and maybe put them on again in five minutes if the sun goes behind clouds and the wind picks up, or I can just hike with them on. Today, I hiked for too long with them on, and now most of my clothes are damp with sweat at the end of the day. I’ve got them in the foot of my sleeping bag to dry out, or at least keep warm through the night, and now I have nothing to use for a pillow. Lame.
Haven’t seen any bears, but we’ve started cooking away from camp and leaving our bear canisters far away, as well as our garbage and anything that smells. The Sierras are beautiful, but camping in bear country is a pain.
When I get home, after I finish this thing, I’m gonna eat a big bowl of cereal with milk and toast with butter and jam while I sit on my couch and watch cartoons. Then I might take a nap. G’Night.
Here is a problem: when I’m not hiking, the wind makes me very cold. In the morning, and at every break, I am freezing. So, I put on extra layers. Problem solved! But, once I start hiking, I become warm. Now, I’m wearing extra layers, and I can either stop to take them off, and maybe put them on again in five minutes if the sun goes behind clouds and the wind picks up, or I can just hike with them on. Today, I hiked for too long with them on, and now most of my clothes are damp with sweat at the end of the day. I’ve got them in the foot of my sleeping bag to dry out, or at least keep warm through the night, and now I have nothing to use for a pillow. Lame.
Haven’t seen any bears, but we’ve started cooking away from camp and leaving our bear canisters far away, as well as our garbage and anything that smells. The Sierras are beautiful, but camping in bear country is a pain.
When I get home, after I finish this thing, I’m gonna eat a big bowl of cereal with milk and toast with butter and jam while I sit on my couch and watch cartoons. Then I might take a nap. G’Night.
Thursday, June 11—Day 50
Today’s hike took us through many grassy meadows. Small creeks and streams ran everywhere, and we could see snow-capped mountains in the distance. We climbed to 10,500 feet, our highest elevation yet. The next four days or so will make that seem like nothing, though.
The Sierras are full of trade-offs. We no longer have the heat of the desert, but it could snow, rain, or hail at any time. There are no more rattlesnakes, but we are in bear country, and must be very careful. The scenery is beautiful, but the elevations are high and the air is thinner, which makes climbing harder. There’s water all over the place, but there are also mosquitoes.
The mosquitoes. I sat, cooking dinner and watching ten, twenty, thirty of them float erratically around me. I don’t know what compels all insects to try and get into my ears, but I’m sick of it. There’s nothing in there for you! I slapped my shoulder at one point and killed three of them. A triple KO! Steve says that they’re going to be much, much worse. I am concerned.
On the bear front, we did pick up our bear canisters in Kennedy Meadows. All of my food, or as much as I could fit, is now in a giant, bear-proof plastic container. The rest is hanging in a tree, and I solemnly hope that no bears get it down, because I’ve got snacks in there.
We’re camped in Death Canyon. I don’t know why it’s called that. My ice axe is in my tent. G’Night.
The Sierras are full of trade-offs. We no longer have the heat of the desert, but it could snow, rain, or hail at any time. There are no more rattlesnakes, but we are in bear country, and must be very careful. The scenery is beautiful, but the elevations are high and the air is thinner, which makes climbing harder. There’s water all over the place, but there are also mosquitoes.
The mosquitoes. I sat, cooking dinner and watching ten, twenty, thirty of them float erratically around me. I don’t know what compels all insects to try and get into my ears, but I’m sick of it. There’s nothing in there for you! I slapped my shoulder at one point and killed three of them. A triple KO! Steve says that they’re going to be much, much worse. I am concerned.
On the bear front, we did pick up our bear canisters in Kennedy Meadows. All of my food, or as much as I could fit, is now in a giant, bear-proof plastic container. The rest is hanging in a tree, and I solemnly hope that no bears get it down, because I’ve got snacks in there.
We’re camped in Death Canyon. I don’t know why it’s called that. My ice axe is in my tent. G’Night.
Wednesday, June 10—Day 49
We are in the Sierras. The Sierras!
Packed up, had lunch, whatever. We didn’t get out of Kennedy Meadows until mid-to-late afternoon. We met back up with Steve, who’d spent the last two days in town with his family, and hit the trail. Right away, the difference in environment was apparent.
We walked up a grassy hill, turned a corner, and before us was a grove of pine trees. The ground was covered with tiny purple-pink flowers, so small and numerous that they seemed to form a thick haze. Every mile is more beautiful than the last. Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings. ‘Night.
Packed up, had lunch, whatever. We didn’t get out of Kennedy Meadows until mid-to-late afternoon. We met back up with Steve, who’d spent the last two days in town with his family, and hit the trail. Right away, the difference in environment was apparent.
We walked up a grassy hill, turned a corner, and before us was a grove of pine trees. The ground was covered with tiny purple-pink flowers, so small and numerous that they seemed to form a thick haze. Every mile is more beautiful than the last. Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings. ‘Night.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Tuesday, June 9th-Day 48
I think I must have celebrated a little too hard last night, because I woke up hungover. The general aches of a hangover are bad enough, and sleeping on the ground does not make them better.
We spent today reading and hanging out. I haven't been able to get a cell phone signal since we left Mojave a week ago, and the inability to contact family and friends is making me antsy. I finally broke down and called my aunt collect on a payphone, the only phone around. She is a fantastic lady, and it was great to talk to her.
The clouds had been building up in a far corner of the sky all day, and a deep, rolling thunderclap issued from far off in the mountains. We loaded everything under our vestibules and got into our tents just as the rain started. I'd never been in my tent in the rain before, but I lay there reading, my sleeping bag bunched up under me as a pillow, and I felt safe and secure. I fell asleep listening to the drops hit my rain fly, and had strange, vivid dreams about driving home to see my family. I woke up to bright sunlight and a suffocating heat. The Green Shark handles rain like a champ, but in the sun it becomes an oven. I stumbled out into the sunshine and cooler air, and went over to the store to check the hiker boxes and read some more.
Hiker boxes are boxes that hikers deposit unwanted items into. Much of the time, they're full of old shoes, tampons, bottles with a smallish amount of sunblock in them, bags containing mysterious foods, books, and other items. Sometimes, they carry treasure. In my case, this usually means food. Bags of cookies, packs of crackers, snack bars. Someone last night put in an unopened container of frosting, but I got there too late. Obviously, the best time to check a hiker box is right after someone dumps all their stuff into it. This trip has turned me into a scavenger. Eating a free pack of Ritz crackers is a better option than paying five dollars for a bag of Oreos in the store. In this way, me becoming something of an animal is maybe defensible.
It's not just the hiker boxes. Anytime free food is offered out here, I'm all over it. I'm like a dog. Also I go to the bathroom outside, which doesn't help the comparison. There's a lot to do tomorrow before we leave. I'd better get some sleep. 'Night!
We spent today reading and hanging out. I haven't been able to get a cell phone signal since we left Mojave a week ago, and the inability to contact family and friends is making me antsy. I finally broke down and called my aunt collect on a payphone, the only phone around. She is a fantastic lady, and it was great to talk to her.
The clouds had been building up in a far corner of the sky all day, and a deep, rolling thunderclap issued from far off in the mountains. We loaded everything under our vestibules and got into our tents just as the rain started. I'd never been in my tent in the rain before, but I lay there reading, my sleeping bag bunched up under me as a pillow, and I felt safe and secure. I fell asleep listening to the drops hit my rain fly, and had strange, vivid dreams about driving home to see my family. I woke up to bright sunlight and a suffocating heat. The Green Shark handles rain like a champ, but in the sun it becomes an oven. I stumbled out into the sunshine and cooler air, and went over to the store to check the hiker boxes and read some more.
Hiker boxes are boxes that hikers deposit unwanted items into. Much of the time, they're full of old shoes, tampons, bottles with a smallish amount of sunblock in them, bags containing mysterious foods, books, and other items. Sometimes, they carry treasure. In my case, this usually means food. Bags of cookies, packs of crackers, snack bars. Someone last night put in an unopened container of frosting, but I got there too late. Obviously, the best time to check a hiker box is right after someone dumps all their stuff into it. This trip has turned me into a scavenger. Eating a free pack of Ritz crackers is a better option than paying five dollars for a bag of Oreos in the store. In this way, me becoming something of an animal is maybe defensible.
It's not just the hiker boxes. Anytime free food is offered out here, I'm all over it. I'm like a dog. Also I go to the bathroom outside, which doesn't help the comparison. There's a lot to do tomorrow before we leave. I'd better get some sleep. 'Night!
Monday, June 8th-Day 47
We're in Kennedy Meadows. We put in an easy (aside from battered feet) 12 miles or so to get here, and here we are now. Our winter gear has arrived, including my ice axe, which is monstrous. From here, we enter the Sierras, but first we are going to take a day or two to heal. There's a general store here, and that's about it, but all the other hikers have managed to turn the place into some sort of compound. Tents are everywhere, and the air is thick with the odor of people who have not showered in at least a week (Me!).
The market/store place is super expensive. I mostly raided hiker boxes for today's and tomorrow's dinner. Jerry bought beer, a 12-pack of Natural Ice and a 12-pack of Keystone Light. I am drunk. Goodnight!
The market/store place is super expensive. I mostly raided hiker boxes for today's and tomorrow's dinner. Jerry bought beer, a 12-pack of Natural Ice and a 12-pack of Keystone Light. I am drunk. Goodnight!
Sunday, June 7th-Day 46
Up at five and pretty cold. We'd camped close to this spring, and it turned out that none of us needed water. So, we packed up and left.
I'm gonna talk about what I've been putting my body through for a minute. We walk around twenty to twenty-five miles a day on average, carrying packs that sometimes weight as much as forty-five pounds. That's twenty five miles of constant stepping on uneven, rocky terrain. The big toe on my left foot is mostly numb. When I bend it back, I get strange twinges in the middle of my foot, on top. When I bend it down, I get sharp, terrible pain in my arch. I try to keep it straight. I've got blisters under calluses on the back of my right heel. I've been told to pop them (IT GETS REALLY GROSS NOW, FYI-M.), so I stabbed my heel with my knife and the only thing that happened was that my heel felt like it was being stabbed. I put molefoam on it, taped it up, and have avoided looking at it since out of fear. I've got pain in my left shin and in my right knee. And my hips.
My upper body feels fine, except that my left shoulder starts to hurt a lot after I've been hiking for a long stretch. I shift the pack weight to my hips, which hurts them, but not too badly. I think what I'm saying is that this whole hike is just one long, painful experience. My body is pretty beaten up, and it's not going to get easier. We're heading into the Sierras after our next stop, Kennedy Meadows. Lots of big climbing, at altitudes we haven't even come close to so far, with all my complaining about climbing. In spite of all of this, I'm having a good time, and I think I know why.
We're more than one quarter of the way done, as of today. We're through the Mojave Desert. We've taken what it gave us and come out stronger than we went in. We've come almost seven hundred miles, officially finished Southern California, and, after Kennedy Meadows, we will take on the Sierras.
My body felt like it was falling apart piece by piece today, but I still hiked twenty three miles uphill. I came out here to push my limits, and that's what I'm doing. Hiking all day, every day sucks, but I haven't had to stop yet, haven't found my wall, and that' why I like this thing. I'm gonna go until I can't anymore, or until I reach Canada. We all are, and we're one quarter of the way there. Less than two thousand miles to go. 'Night.
I'm gonna talk about what I've been putting my body through for a minute. We walk around twenty to twenty-five miles a day on average, carrying packs that sometimes weight as much as forty-five pounds. That's twenty five miles of constant stepping on uneven, rocky terrain. The big toe on my left foot is mostly numb. When I bend it back, I get strange twinges in the middle of my foot, on top. When I bend it down, I get sharp, terrible pain in my arch. I try to keep it straight. I've got blisters under calluses on the back of my right heel. I've been told to pop them (IT GETS REALLY GROSS NOW, FYI-M.), so I stabbed my heel with my knife and the only thing that happened was that my heel felt like it was being stabbed. I put molefoam on it, taped it up, and have avoided looking at it since out of fear. I've got pain in my left shin and in my right knee. And my hips.
My upper body feels fine, except that my left shoulder starts to hurt a lot after I've been hiking for a long stretch. I shift the pack weight to my hips, which hurts them, but not too badly. I think what I'm saying is that this whole hike is just one long, painful experience. My body is pretty beaten up, and it's not going to get easier. We're heading into the Sierras after our next stop, Kennedy Meadows. Lots of big climbing, at altitudes we haven't even come close to so far, with all my complaining about climbing. In spite of all of this, I'm having a good time, and I think I know why.
We're more than one quarter of the way done, as of today. We're through the Mojave Desert. We've taken what it gave us and come out stronger than we went in. We've come almost seven hundred miles, officially finished Southern California, and, after Kennedy Meadows, we will take on the Sierras.
My body felt like it was falling apart piece by piece today, but I still hiked twenty three miles uphill. I came out here to push my limits, and that's what I'm doing. Hiking all day, every day sucks, but I haven't had to stop yet, haven't found my wall, and that' why I like this thing. I'm gonna go until I can't anymore, or until I reach Canada. We all are, and we're one quarter of the way there. Less than two thousand miles to go. 'Night.
Saturday, June 6th-Day 45
Slept in this morning. Meadow Ed and some volunteers made breakfast, but we slept through it. I made up for it with a bowl of granola and milk, which was delicious. After eating, we met up with a guy named Half Mile, our ride into Onyx.
Onyx turned out to be a post office and a gas station. The post office barely seemed open, with the inside door locked and two women working inside, summoned by a buzzer. They gave us our box, and we picked up a few essentials from the gas station (peanut butter, candy bars) and headed back to Walker Pass, where the camp was. Upon opening our box, I was extremely excited to find a small load of snacks for me, courtesy of Megan, who is a wonderful person (It's true. I sent him cakesters. -M)
I have to explain something about food. Out here, every variety of food is magnified in deliciousness tenfold. At home, I might not like Cheerios (I don't), but out here I love them (I do!)(I now pronounce you man and cereal. -M) Pop-Tarts might be a mediocre snack in everyday life, but when I'm halfway up a mountain, reclining against my pack and pouring the last crumbs from the package into my mouth, there is nothing in the world I'd rather be eating right then. I have not encountered a single food out here that wasn't tasty.
Oh right, today. So, we sorted our food, then took naps? A nap?...We napped in our tents until noon, and then set about the process of getting packed. After we finally had everything ready, we headed back over to the pavilion for more scavenging and some goodbyes, and then we hit the trail.
I've gotta be honest, the last two days took their toll on me. My legs were stiff, one of my feet had blisters, and the other one feels bruised deep inside the arch. We had a 1,000 foot climb right off the bat that had me a little worried, but I slowed down my pace, took it one step at a time, and pushed all the way up. We ran into Steve, who's been trail named "The Dude" because his voice sounds very much like the voice of Jeff Bridges. Together, we put in another seven miles (for a total of twelve) up and then down a very rocky trail. My shoes have about had it, I think, and the sharp rocks did not feel great on my feet, which were still pretty sore, but we made it down to a spring in a deep, shaded valley, and set up camp. There are rumors of bear trouble around here. I thought about putting my pack far away from my tent, but put it in my vestibule instead. If a bear wants my Oreos, he's going to have to fight me for them. G'night.
Onyx turned out to be a post office and a gas station. The post office barely seemed open, with the inside door locked and two women working inside, summoned by a buzzer. They gave us our box, and we picked up a few essentials from the gas station (peanut butter, candy bars) and headed back to Walker Pass, where the camp was. Upon opening our box, I was extremely excited to find a small load of snacks for me, courtesy of Megan, who is a wonderful person (It's true. I sent him cakesters. -M)
I have to explain something about food. Out here, every variety of food is magnified in deliciousness tenfold. At home, I might not like Cheerios (I don't), but out here I love them (I do!)(I now pronounce you man and cereal. -M) Pop-Tarts might be a mediocre snack in everyday life, but when I'm halfway up a mountain, reclining against my pack and pouring the last crumbs from the package into my mouth, there is nothing in the world I'd rather be eating right then. I have not encountered a single food out here that wasn't tasty.
Oh right, today. So, we sorted our food, then took naps? A nap?...We napped in our tents until noon, and then set about the process of getting packed. After we finally had everything ready, we headed back over to the pavilion for more scavenging and some goodbyes, and then we hit the trail.
I've gotta be honest, the last two days took their toll on me. My legs were stiff, one of my feet had blisters, and the other one feels bruised deep inside the arch. We had a 1,000 foot climb right off the bat that had me a little worried, but I slowed down my pace, took it one step at a time, and pushed all the way up. We ran into Steve, who's been trail named "The Dude" because his voice sounds very much like the voice of Jeff Bridges. Together, we put in another seven miles (for a total of twelve) up and then down a very rocky trail. My shoes have about had it, I think, and the sharp rocks did not feel great on my feet, which were still pretty sore, but we made it down to a spring in a deep, shaded valley, and set up camp. There are rumors of bear trouble around here. I thought about putting my pack far away from my tent, but put it in my vestibule instead. If a bear wants my Oreos, he's going to have to fight me for them. G'night.
Friday, June 5th-Day 44
We knocked out the remaining 29 miles like they were nothing! Woke up at six to wet tents, sleeping bags, packs, everything. There was heavy condensation during the night, which left me freezing until morning, when we packed up and got moving. The trail stayed pretty easy, but we once again found ourselves brutalized by powerful winds throughout the day. The clouds kept threatening rain, and the air stayed very cold. The sky didn't fall, though, and we powered through without trouble.
After lunch, we left the trail for a mountain spring and found a shelter with chairs outside. As we rested, a pickup truck pulled up and two men got out. They had brought a bagful of food, and we took some with thanks. Then it was eight more miles, four of which were a long descent down a beautiful valley as the sun sank towards the mountaintops. We finally hit the bottom, and found a barbecue waiting for us and any other hikers. A man named Meadow Ed threw steaks (!) on the fire for us, and we ate greedily.
Tonight's dinner: Steak, salad, 2 rolls, 3 beers, 2 Gatorades, grapes, a handful of pretzels, and an apple. Way better than rehydrated chili mac. Nothing works up an appetite like hiking 29 miles. We've got a ride into Onyx lined up in the morning. Things are working out! Night.
After lunch, we left the trail for a mountain spring and found a shelter with chairs outside. As we rested, a pickup truck pulled up and two men got out. They had brought a bagful of food, and we took some with thanks. Then it was eight more miles, four of which were a long descent down a beautiful valley as the sun sank towards the mountaintops. We finally hit the bottom, and found a barbecue waiting for us and any other hikers. A man named Meadow Ed threw steaks (!) on the fire for us, and we ate greedily.
Tonight's dinner: Steak, salad, 2 rolls, 3 beers, 2 Gatorades, grapes, a handful of pretzels, and an apple. Way better than rehydrated chili mac. Nothing works up an appetite like hiking 29 miles. We've got a ride into Onyx lined up in the morning. Things are working out! Night.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Thursday, June 4th, Day 43
We discovered last night that we still had sixty miles to Onyx, where our next box awaits, and only two days to get there, or else we'd arrive after the post office closed and have to wait until Monday to get our stuff. So, we got up early (4-ish) and set out for a thirty mile day. The trail started out with some moderate climbing, which, I'm sad to say, wiped me out completely. I might not be eating well enough out here at breakfast, because after lunch I felt much better. We shook off our slow morning and careened through the afternoon along nice, even ground. We passed through cool, beautiful forests. Hopefully a taste of what Oregon and Washington will offer, and back into a desert canyon as the evening took the heat away. Another eight miles past a water cache and we set up camp on a sandy plateau. 31 miles today. New record. Only 29 more tomorrow, then Onyx. We can do it. Good night.
Wednesday, June 3rd, Day 42
Up at five today, and hiking by six. As we climbed higher into the hills, clouds rolled in. Suddenly, it began to hail. We'd just left the Mojave Desert, and there were hailstones stinging us as we walked.
It stopped hailing soon enough, and we were left with a cloudy sky and a cool hike. We sat down for lunch at a spring, and, just as we finished, it began to rain. We put on our jackets and pack covers and hiked out, hoping that the rain would subside, but it didn't. The trail became muddy, my shorts were soaked, and my hands were freezing. Hiking in the rain is a miserable experience. When we encounter it in the north, we'll be ready for it. Here, though, there are no deciduous trees to take cover under. The entire ground is wet, and there's no escape.
We put in ten miles and made it to a campground just as the rain let up. As I sat in my tent cooking dinner, the sun finally burst through the clouds, warming me. I took the water pot from my stove (in my vestibule; I don't want to burn my tent down), and, leaning in, tried to blow out the flame. A cloud of fire leapt out into my face. Now it smells like burned hair in here, and one of my eyebrows is slightly shorter. Night!
It stopped hailing soon enough, and we were left with a cloudy sky and a cool hike. We sat down for lunch at a spring, and, just as we finished, it began to rain. We put on our jackets and pack covers and hiked out, hoping that the rain would subside, but it didn't. The trail became muddy, my shorts were soaked, and my hands were freezing. Hiking in the rain is a miserable experience. When we encounter it in the north, we'll be ready for it. Here, though, there are no deciduous trees to take cover under. The entire ground is wet, and there's no escape.
We put in ten miles and made it to a campground just as the rain let up. As I sat in my tent cooking dinner, the sun finally burst through the clouds, warming me. I took the water pot from my stove (in my vestibule; I don't want to burn my tent down), and, leaning in, tried to blow out the flame. A cloud of fire leapt out into my face. Now it smells like burned hair in here, and one of my eyebrows is slightly shorter. Night!
Tuesday, June 2nd-Day 41
We stayed up until around ten thirty last night, late for us. At about four in the morning, Mark suddenly started talking to us, loudly. I'm not sure what he was saying, but we tried for a while to ignore him, hoping he'd get the idea. He did not. I think he was going on about how great it is that we're doing this, and how nice it was that we were able to hang out with him and Tony, who he would sometimes address. Tony, who was sleeping in the RV, did not answer. After about ten minutes and one round of Mark saying "I know you guys are awake," I finally responded, and we talked briefly until I convinced him that maybe it was time to go back to sleep. He quieted down for about half an hour, and started again. This time, it was Jerry's turn, and I fell back asleep while they chatted. After that he and Tom talked. By then, it was five thirty, so we just got up. I found myself wondering if we were in the presence of a truly crazy person as I came back from the bathroom, and then in the morning light, I got a look at him. He was leaning up against the inside rear corner of the house, sitting on a stack of pillows, and there was an empty 1.75 liter vodka bottle in his hand. It was five thirty in the morning, and he was smashed because he's been drinking all night. We sat around for a while as he made the same jokes over and over again until he finally fell asleep. Tony got up and made a delicious breakfast, and after we ate, we napped in the shade inside the house. We woke up at noon, packed, and thanked our hosts for a great evening and an unusual morning. Then Tony took us back to the trailhead, where we ate hot dogs for lunch before finally heading back out. Another twelve or thirteen miles, and here we are.
We did find an awesome campsite. There's a small grove of trees and soft, clear ground. In the middle of the grove, someone left bags full of salami and Crystal Light. It was like finding a treasure chest! Night.
We did find an awesome campsite. There's a small grove of trees and soft, clear ground. In the middle of the grove, someone left bags full of salami and Crystal Light. It was like finding a treasure chest! Night.
Monday, June 1st, Day 40
Woke up at five thirty to a gorgeous sunrise, which I tried to capture in digital form on my semi-functional camera. Won't see how it turned out until Onyx, unfortuntely.
A cool morning hike took us down out of the mountains, through a wind farm and ultimately to the Tehachapi/Willow Springs road, where we began the ten-mile walk to Mojave. Our thumbs were out at every car that passed our way, but traffic was light, and comprised mostly of semi trucks and cars too small for three men and their packs. After we'd walked about three miles, a bright blue Toyota whatever pulled over, and a man named Gabriel picked us up. We listened to AC/DC and asked the important questions about town, namely about fast food places, which we walked to after he kindly dropped us off at the post office. I have finally eaten at a Jack-In-The-Box. I can go home now. Aha.
After food (so much!) we walked (laboriously) across town in the afternoon sun. Mojave is wide open and spread out, and the twenty-minute walk to the Stater Bros. grocery store took us past a handful of gas stations and restaurants on one side and a scenic vista of the distant mountains on the other, with lots and lots of nothing between us and them.
While we were shopping, a man approached me and asked if the packs outside belonged to us. I said yes, and when I told him where we're going, he seemed genuinely impressed. He intorduced himself (Mark), and after meeting Tom and Jerry, offered to let us stay the night at the house he and his friend are building. We agreed, and soon found ourselves ten miles away in California City, eating junk food in the yard of a building site. Mark and Tony (his friend) entertained us for hours with truly hilarious and exciting stories. These two have lived.
After a delicious dinner of flame-grilled chicken and hot dogs, we set out our sleepin pads in the framework of the house and prepared for bed.
This house is a wooden skeleton. I love being in buildings before the drywall goes up, and stepping between the slats, breaking the rules. There is no roof on this building, and when I lie on my back, I'm looking straight up at the stars. The breeze is cool, and I could not be happier to be out here right now. 'Night.
A cool morning hike took us down out of the mountains, through a wind farm and ultimately to the Tehachapi/Willow Springs road, where we began the ten-mile walk to Mojave. Our thumbs were out at every car that passed our way, but traffic was light, and comprised mostly of semi trucks and cars too small for three men and their packs. After we'd walked about three miles, a bright blue Toyota whatever pulled over, and a man named Gabriel picked us up. We listened to AC/DC and asked the important questions about town, namely about fast food places, which we walked to after he kindly dropped us off at the post office. I have finally eaten at a Jack-In-The-Box. I can go home now. Aha.
After food (so much!) we walked (laboriously) across town in the afternoon sun. Mojave is wide open and spread out, and the twenty-minute walk to the Stater Bros. grocery store took us past a handful of gas stations and restaurants on one side and a scenic vista of the distant mountains on the other, with lots and lots of nothing between us and them.
While we were shopping, a man approached me and asked if the packs outside belonged to us. I said yes, and when I told him where we're going, he seemed genuinely impressed. He intorduced himself (Mark), and after meeting Tom and Jerry, offered to let us stay the night at the house he and his friend are building. We agreed, and soon found ourselves ten miles away in California City, eating junk food in the yard of a building site. Mark and Tony (his friend) entertained us for hours with truly hilarious and exciting stories. These two have lived.
After a delicious dinner of flame-grilled chicken and hot dogs, we set out our sleepin pads in the framework of the house and prepared for bed.
This house is a wooden skeleton. I love being in buildings before the drywall goes up, and stepping between the slats, breaking the rules. There is no roof on this building, and when I lie on my back, I'm looking straight up at the stars. The breeze is cool, and I could not be happier to be out here right now. 'Night.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Sunday, May 31st--Day 39
Woke up this morning to heat. We'd just gone to sleep four hours earlier, and my tent was an over. I stuffed my sleeping bag, dripping sweat everywhere and scrambled out of my tent to surprisingly cool air. I had slept with the rain fly on and closed, in an attempt to maximize shade, but had instead made my tent twenty degrees hotter than the desert air.
We took down camp and made our way down the ravine to find shade, and ended up laying out our sleeping pads under the bridge, where we slept for several hours. After a late lunch, it was time to filter water and leave. We made it out around five o'clock and hiked through the desert as the day cooled off.
This is the first time I've been in Real Desert. Wide open spaces stretched all the way to the mountains far off in the distance. There were Joshua Trees everywhere, and the ground was carpeted with what looked like dry grass. We hiked up hillsides in the deepening shade and made our way into the mountains just before nightfall. After dinner at a creek, we set off in the dark.
Nighthiking is treacherous. My headlamp, which works fine for writing and reading in my tent, barely illuminated the trail, and I found myself unable to see the gradient of the terrain. I stumbled for a few miles before shutting it off and letting the moonlight show me the way. We pushed up sandy hills while the wind, strong and brutal, blew grainy gusts in our faces relentlessly. Physically, it was still much easier than hiking in the heat of daytime, but the strain of focusing on every step was mentally very tiring.
We set up camp at around one a.m. under a tree up in the hills. Hopefully, tomorrow will be all downhill. We're going into Mojave, but there could still be ten miles between us and town and the desert heats up fast in the morning. G'Night.
We took down camp and made our way down the ravine to find shade, and ended up laying out our sleeping pads under the bridge, where we slept for several hours. After a late lunch, it was time to filter water and leave. We made it out around five o'clock and hiked through the desert as the day cooled off.
This is the first time I've been in Real Desert. Wide open spaces stretched all the way to the mountains far off in the distance. There were Joshua Trees everywhere, and the ground was carpeted with what looked like dry grass. We hiked up hillsides in the deepening shade and made our way into the mountains just before nightfall. After dinner at a creek, we set off in the dark.
Nighthiking is treacherous. My headlamp, which works fine for writing and reading in my tent, barely illuminated the trail, and I found myself unable to see the gradient of the terrain. I stumbled for a few miles before shutting it off and letting the moonlight show me the way. We pushed up sandy hills while the wind, strong and brutal, blew grainy gusts in our faces relentlessly. Physically, it was still much easier than hiking in the heat of daytime, but the strain of focusing on every step was mentally very tiring.
We set up camp at around one a.m. under a tree up in the hills. Hopefully, tomorrow will be all downhill. We're going into Mojave, but there could still be ten miles between us and town and the desert heats up fast in the morning. G'Night.
Saturday, May 30--Day 38
Woke up at six, out at seven. It was a late start today, but we weren't pushing far. Eight miles over some smallish hill, the last heave of earth before finally slipping down into the desert quietly and easily. We found ourselves at Hiker Town around noon. Hiker Town is a house with a big yard. There are chickens and ducks running around all over the place, and inexplicably, an old western-style town. The town may have been built as a movie set. I don't know.
We sat around from noon to five, avoiding the midday heat. During that time, a chick fell into a water trough and was beating his tiny useless wings furiously and squeaking loudly, trying in vain to climb out. I scooped a hand under him and rescued him. That chick owes me a life debt.
At six we packed up and hiked out, the sun set beautifully, and we followed a dirt road as the warm breezes changed to cool breezes. We were night hiking soon enough, and the road seemed to go on forever. The stars were beautiful, though. Nights like this fill me with a nostalgia that I can't really explain.
We set up camp just short of Cottonwood Creek Bridge, which means we're 534 miles in, which means we're 1/5 of the way done! Yeah!
We sat around from noon to five, avoiding the midday heat. During that time, a chick fell into a water trough and was beating his tiny useless wings furiously and squeaking loudly, trying in vain to climb out. I scooped a hand under him and rescued him. That chick owes me a life debt.
At six we packed up and hiked out, the sun set beautifully, and we followed a dirt road as the warm breezes changed to cool breezes. We were night hiking soon enough, and the road seemed to go on forever. The stars were beautiful, though. Nights like this fill me with a nostalgia that I can't really explain.
We set up camp just short of Cottonwood Creek Bridge, which means we're 534 miles in, which means we're 1/5 of the way done! Yeah!
Friday, May 29th-Day 37
-Woke up this morning and took down camp fairly quickly for an early start. The trail took us gradually uphill all morning, until just before lunch, when it lunged upwards into shadeless, breezeless, breathless, relentless heat.
Just as things were becoming unbearable, the trail evened out and we saw the Red Rock Water Tank up a hill to the right. A quick climb later and we found ourselves at the perfect spot for lunch. Amazingly, after we finished eating, dark clouds rolled in and the temperature dropped ten or fifteen degrees. Then, rail began to fall. Rain. I hadn't seen a drop fall out of the sky since Michigan. There wasn't much, just a brief sprinkling, and then it was over. We hiked out, and the clouds stayed all day, providing us with much needed shade.
Not long after lunch, we heard the sound of engines roaming nearby. I was just thinking that there must be a road soon, when a jackass on a dirt bike rounded the corner ahead of me and stopped just short of ending my hike real fast. We stepped off the trail as three other bikers ground to a halt, all surprised to see hikers on a no-motor-vehicles hiking trail. We let them pass, warning that there were other hikers not far behind us. Chumps.
Another few miles, and the trail finally took a downhill turn. It switched back and forth along the mountainside until evening out just before a paved road. We found a great place to set up camp, and relaxed for the rest of the evening. 25 miles today, and we passed the 500 mile mark. We're really doing this. 'Night!
Just as things were becoming unbearable, the trail evened out and we saw the Red Rock Water Tank up a hill to the right. A quick climb later and we found ourselves at the perfect spot for lunch. Amazingly, after we finished eating, dark clouds rolled in and the temperature dropped ten or fifteen degrees. Then, rail began to fall. Rain. I hadn't seen a drop fall out of the sky since Michigan. There wasn't much, just a brief sprinkling, and then it was over. We hiked out, and the clouds stayed all day, providing us with much needed shade.
Not long after lunch, we heard the sound of engines roaming nearby. I was just thinking that there must be a road soon, when a jackass on a dirt bike rounded the corner ahead of me and stopped just short of ending my hike real fast. We stepped off the trail as three other bikers ground to a halt, all surprised to see hikers on a no-motor-vehicles hiking trail. We let them pass, warning that there were other hikers not far behind us. Chumps.
Another few miles, and the trail finally took a downhill turn. It switched back and forth along the mountainside until evening out just before a paved road. We found a great place to set up camp, and relaxed for the rest of the evening. 25 miles today, and we passed the 500 mile mark. We're really doing this. 'Night!
Thursday, May 28th--Day 36
After three helpings of pancakes this morning, another nap in the hammock shortly thereafter, and a trip to the store for a 2-liter bottle of Sunny Delight (I want the empty bottle for increased water capacity), we finally made our goodbyes and got a ride out to the trail head. The late afternoon sun was still hot, and the trail took off on an immediate climb up into the hills, but we soon made our way over the top and coasted an easy eight miles to a water cache, where we set camp for the night. It's been a short day.
I feel that I should talk about Trail Angels. Trail Angels are people who go out of their way to supply hikers with resources beyond their normal means, and to otherwise help in any way they can. Usually, this includes resupplying water caches and offering rides, but sometimes a Trail Angel will put up hikers in their home. All of this is free. Although donations are grudgingly accepted. I've met some really wonderful people doing this. I didn't like in general before I came out here, but I can feel that starting to change. I don't know if there's a better gift that can be given than restoring one's faith in humanity.
There's a creature rustling the tall grass about ten feet away from my tent. I can hear it, but I can't see it. If it comes out, I only hope that's it's cute, and not horrifying. G'Night.
I feel that I should talk about Trail Angels. Trail Angels are people who go out of their way to supply hikers with resources beyond their normal means, and to otherwise help in any way they can. Usually, this includes resupplying water caches and offering rides, but sometimes a Trail Angel will put up hikers in their home. All of this is free. Although donations are grudgingly accepted. I've met some really wonderful people doing this. I didn't like in general before I came out here, but I can feel that starting to change. I don't know if there's a better gift that can be given than restoring one's faith in humanity.
There's a creature rustling the tall grass about ten feet away from my tent. I can hear it, but I can't see it. If it comes out, I only hope that's it's cute, and not horrifying. G'Night.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Wednesday, May 27th--Day 35
Seven easy miles from our camp at Oasis Cache, and we hit a highway, where a wonderful woman picked us up and drove us to the Andersons' house, Casa de Luna.
The Andersons have something of a reputation amongst PCT hikers. They're known for wild parties, and we weren't sure what to expect. Fortunately or unfortunately, we arrived on sort of an off day. No one seemed to be able to work up enough enthusiasm for chocolate syrup twister, and we arrived a few days late for oil wrestling, although we did see the slide show.
After a brief nap in a hammock and a delicious taco salad dinner, we sat in the front yard around a fire and let the day turn into night. I got to play the guitar and sing, and of course drink beer and cactus coolers. Altogether, it was a great night, just my type of party.
Tomorrow, there will be pancakes, and we're going to try to leave, although Terri Anderson will try to convince us to stay another night. It might be an easy job for her. G'Night.
The Andersons have something of a reputation amongst PCT hikers. They're known for wild parties, and we weren't sure what to expect. Fortunately or unfortunately, we arrived on sort of an off day. No one seemed to be able to work up enough enthusiasm for chocolate syrup twister, and we arrived a few days late for oil wrestling, although we did see the slide show.
After a brief nap in a hammock and a delicious taco salad dinner, we sat in the front yard around a fire and let the day turn into night. I got to play the guitar and sing, and of course drink beer and cactus coolers. Altogether, it was a great night, just my type of party.
Tomorrow, there will be pancakes, and we're going to try to leave, although Terri Anderson will try to convince us to stay another night. It might be an easy job for her. G'Night.
Tuesday, May 25--Day 34
We finally did leave, after some unfortunate delays. I was sort of dreading today's hike, because my trekking poles had become accidentally mixed in with loads of things that other hikers had-
The Andersons, another set of Trail Angels, live twenty five miles up the trail from the Saufleys. The day before yesterday, someone with a truck offered to take a big load ahead to Casa de Luna, where the Andersons live. Many of the hikers put all of the gear they wouldn't need for a single day's hike in garbage bags, with the idea that they could hike the twenty five miles quickly and easily with light packs. Then they put the garbage bags over by the front gate, which is exactly where I'd left my poles. So, my poles are at Casa de Luna, and I am not.
The trail today took us up some fairly steep, long inclines, made tougher by my lack of poles, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it'd be, and I think I spent more of the day walking easy downhill slopes than trudging upwards.
We set up camp at the Oasis water cache, which we found decorated with plastic skeletons, an inflatable flamingo and monkey, and a stuffed parrot. Sitting amidst the water jugs is a large cooler full of pop and beer, and the elusive cactus cooler, the best pop I've ever tasted. This is a good campsite. 'Night!
The Andersons, another set of Trail Angels, live twenty five miles up the trail from the Saufleys. The day before yesterday, someone with a truck offered to take a big load ahead to Casa de Luna, where the Andersons live. Many of the hikers put all of the gear they wouldn't need for a single day's hike in garbage bags, with the idea that they could hike the twenty five miles quickly and easily with light packs. Then they put the garbage bags over by the front gate, which is exactly where I'd left my poles. So, my poles are at Casa de Luna, and I am not.
The trail today took us up some fairly steep, long inclines, made tougher by my lack of poles, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it'd be, and I think I spent more of the day walking easy downhill slopes than trudging upwards.
We set up camp at the Oasis water cache, which we found decorated with plastic skeletons, an inflatable flamingo and monkey, and a stuffed parrot. Sitting amidst the water jugs is a large cooler full of pop and beer, and the elusive cactus cooler, the best pop I've ever tasted. This is a good campsite. 'Night!
Monday, May 25th--Day 33
We did not hike out today, partly because of Tom and Jerry's shins, or shin splints, and partly because taking an extra day here was not an unattractive proposition.
This place reminds me of the dorms in college. Hikers are everywhere, sitting and eating, drinking, watching videos in the trailer, talking in lawn chairs in the shade playing the guitar and singing for each other. There's a relaxed sort of energy here that intrigues me. I spent much of the day today finishing To Kill A Mockingbird in a hammock. I'm gonna be honest, I was teary-eyed at a few points in that story. It is a very, very good book.
The horses here, I found out, are Percheron Draft Horses, an ancient breed used by the Romans as war horses. I don't know if I spelled Percheron right. The male, Rick, is huge and black, and used to work at Disneyland, before he was retired for being scared of balloons. The female, Emma is white and also huge, and has something of an attitude. She means well, but if she shoves me with her head again, we're going to fight. I will battle a horse. I told her that.
I think we're actually leaving tomorrow. Night!
This place reminds me of the dorms in college. Hikers are everywhere, sitting and eating, drinking, watching videos in the trailer, talking in lawn chairs in the shade playing the guitar and singing for each other. There's a relaxed sort of energy here that intrigues me. I spent much of the day today finishing To Kill A Mockingbird in a hammock. I'm gonna be honest, I was teary-eyed at a few points in that story. It is a very, very good book.
The horses here, I found out, are Percheron Draft Horses, an ancient breed used by the Romans as war horses. I don't know if I spelled Percheron right. The male, Rick, is huge and black, and used to work at Disneyland, before he was retired for being scared of balloons. The female, Emma is white and also huge, and has something of an attitude. She means well, but if she shoves me with her head again, we're going to fight. I will battle a horse. I told her that.
I think we're actually leaving tomorrow. Night!
Sunday, May 24th--Day 32
Today we took a zero in Agua Dulce. I woke up slowly and, with nowhere to be today, spent some time reading. A few feet from my tent, the horses clopped around and the air was full of bird songs and the human voices of hikers in the distance.
After finally hauling myself out into the world, I met up with Tom and Jerry, and we borrowed bikes and rode to the market downtown for breakfast. Breakfast today was the same as lunch yesterday: ice cream. The market sells it at a shockingly low price (for California) and I've made the best of the deal.
The Saufleys' neighbors had a pool party at noon, and we rose in the back of a pickup truck (now my favorite method of travel) to their house, where we ate burgers and hot dogs and sat in a jacuzzi joking about how hard it is out there.
Shifting between extremes has been a constant theme of this thing. The air is cold, but the sun is hot, so too much time spent in the shade causes chills, and too much time out of it is equally uncomfortable. We find ourselves nearly crawling up relentless mountainsides in the morning, and in the afternoon we might be relaxing next to a pool, beer in hand.
We're hitting the trail again tomorrow. I'd better get some sleep. Goodnight.
After finally hauling myself out into the world, I met up with Tom and Jerry, and we borrowed bikes and rode to the market downtown for breakfast. Breakfast today was the same as lunch yesterday: ice cream. The market sells it at a shockingly low price (for California) and I've made the best of the deal.
The Saufleys' neighbors had a pool party at noon, and we rose in the back of a pickup truck (now my favorite method of travel) to their house, where we ate burgers and hot dogs and sat in a jacuzzi joking about how hard it is out there.
Shifting between extremes has been a constant theme of this thing. The air is cold, but the sun is hot, so too much time spent in the shade causes chills, and too much time out of it is equally uncomfortable. We find ourselves nearly crawling up relentless mountainsides in the morning, and in the afternoon we might be relaxing next to a pool, beer in hand.
We're hitting the trail again tomorrow. I'd better get some sleep. Goodnight.
Saturday, May 23rd--Day 31
One last 18 mile push got us safely to Agua Dulce today. It was a tough 18 miles, winding around shadeless dusty hills in the California sun. Despite growing frustration, which culminated more than once in a sullen, pouty pack-off breaks in the middle of the trail on my part, we made it into town by 2 pm and found ourselves hiking down a highway flanked by open fields and ranch homes. Our first stop was the market, where I put away like half a gallon of ice cream. Then we got a ride to the Saufleys' house from their neighbor.
The Saufleys are trail angels, one of two families famous enough to be featured on the PCT mail drop list, and the Bandana, which lists all the stops between Mexico and Canada. (The other family is the Andersons, twenty something miles up the trail, and I'm sure I'll be writing about them soon enough.)
The Saufleys run a compound called "Hiker Heaven." It's on their property, in their backyard. There are fifty hikers around at any one time, and those hikers may stay a maximum of two nights and three days. Any hikers who arrive after capacity is filled are sadly turned away. Tom, Jerry, Dutch (a guy we've been hiking with for the last few days) and I were numbers 47-50.
There are showers here, and free laundry. And loaner clothes, which you can wear while your normal disgusting hiker clothes are being washed.
We set up our tents down near the horse pen, where there are indeed horses. Huge horses. Draft horses, someone said. There is a white one (a mare) and a black one (whatever a male horse is called (a stallion.-Megan)) I petted the white one through the bars of the fence, and she swung her giant head at me with such force I was startled. Her jaw muscle is as big as my head. I'm not exaggerating.
Dressed up in shorts, a hoodie, and flip flops, I hopped in the back of a pickup truck and cruised with the crew downtown, feeling not like a hiker for once in a long time. We had dinner at a mexican place and came back to Hiker Heaven for beers and hanging out in the cool evening air. I played guitar and sang.
It got late, and most people went to bed. I came down to our campsite, and the black horse shuffled over to the fence and started making horse noises loudly. I walked over to pet him, and he wiped his giant nose all over my leg. There is horse snot on my nice, clean pants. Night.
The Saufleys are trail angels, one of two families famous enough to be featured on the PCT mail drop list, and the Bandana, which lists all the stops between Mexico and Canada. (The other family is the Andersons, twenty something miles up the trail, and I'm sure I'll be writing about them soon enough.)
The Saufleys run a compound called "Hiker Heaven." It's on their property, in their backyard. There are fifty hikers around at any one time, and those hikers may stay a maximum of two nights and three days. Any hikers who arrive after capacity is filled are sadly turned away. Tom, Jerry, Dutch (a guy we've been hiking with for the last few days) and I were numbers 47-50.
There are showers here, and free laundry. And loaner clothes, which you can wear while your normal disgusting hiker clothes are being washed.
We set up our tents down near the horse pen, where there are indeed horses. Huge horses. Draft horses, someone said. There is a white one (a mare) and a black one (whatever a male horse is called (a stallion.-Megan)) I petted the white one through the bars of the fence, and she swung her giant head at me with such force I was startled. Her jaw muscle is as big as my head. I'm not exaggerating.
Dressed up in shorts, a hoodie, and flip flops, I hopped in the back of a pickup truck and cruised with the crew downtown, feeling not like a hiker for once in a long time. We had dinner at a mexican place and came back to Hiker Heaven for beers and hanging out in the cool evening air. I played guitar and sang.
It got late, and most people went to bed. I came down to our campsite, and the black horse shuffled over to the fence and started making horse noises loudly. I walked over to pet him, and he wiped his giant nose all over my leg. There is horse snot on my nice, clean pants. Night.
Friday, May 22nd--Day 30
Today was a mix of good and bad. It was hot out, but the trail didn't climb much. Of course it climbed some, but we didn't find ourselves switching back and forth up a mountain as we have so often in the past.
There were a ton of flies. Black horseflies that bite. Every time we stopped moving, ten or fifteen of them would swarm around me, landing on my arms, my neck, the back of my head. For this reason I was inclined to keep my breaks short. At lunch they got so bad that I set up my tent and crawled inside, finally eating my food in peace while they tried to get in. We finally escaped them later in the day, and set up camp in a picnic area outside a ranger station. 17 miles between water sources today. I carried four liters and didn't run out, although I was thirsty much of the time.
Been out here for 30 days not. In that time, I've taken three hot showers and one cold one. I've slept in two beds, one night each. I've probably looked at my own reflection in a mirror five or six times. My beard is growing strong and mighty, and I stink from sweating all day, every day. It's been a good month. 'Night.
There were a ton of flies. Black horseflies that bite. Every time we stopped moving, ten or fifteen of them would swarm around me, landing on my arms, my neck, the back of my head. For this reason I was inclined to keep my breaks short. At lunch they got so bad that I set up my tent and crawled inside, finally eating my food in peace while they tried to get in. We finally escaped them later in the day, and set up camp in a picnic area outside a ranger station. 17 miles between water sources today. I carried four liters and didn't run out, although I was thirsty much of the time.
Been out here for 30 days not. In that time, I've taken three hot showers and one cold one. I've slept in two beds, one night each. I've probably looked at my own reflection in a mirror five or six times. My beard is growing strong and mighty, and I stink from sweating all day, every day. It's been a good month. 'Night.
Thursday, May 21st--Day 29
Easy hiking today, in sharp contrast to yesterday's uphill torment. The trail actually did wind around the mountains instead of climbing over them. The worst part of the day was when we walked down the highway for a mile and a half looking for Newcombe Ranch Restaurant. Didn't find it, and walked a mile and a half back up the highway to the trail. This was immediately followed by the best part of the day, when a guy named Ryan picked us up in his SUV and drove us back down the highway to the restaurant, which was maybe fifty feet past the point where we'd given up before. I had a Big Pines Ortega Burger (pepperjack cheese, bacon, and ortega pepper?), seasoned fries, and a big piece of chocolate cake with ice cream. Plus a Mr. Pibb, 2 root beers, and an Arnold Palmer. We take every opportunity to eat well out here, because we're actually fighting against weight loss. It was a huge lunch, but walking ten more miles afterward burned a lot of it off.
I have to be honest, we spend a lot of time every day talking about all the different kinds of food and drink that we want, and all of the things we're going to do when we get back home. Top of my list is a root beer float. I might kill for one of those. You hear me? Kill. A Person.
Man, they had root beer and ice cream at that restaurant. What was I thinking? 'Night.
I have to be honest, we spend a lot of time every day talking about all the different kinds of food and drink that we want, and all of the things we're going to do when we get back home. Top of my list is a root beer float. I might kill for one of those. You hear me? Kill. A Person.
Man, they had root beer and ice cream at that restaurant. What was I thinking? 'Night.
Wednesday, May 20th--Day 28
My hands are filthy. I was digging rocks out of the spot where I was going to put my tent, and the dirt coated my hands, turning them brownish gray.
I woke up last night, under the impression that I'd been hiking and had suddenly passed out. I sat up and hit the ceiling of my tent, and became confused. This is the second walking dream I've had out here. The first was that mountain lions were running down the trail after me, and I started yelling out in my sleep. A tent is a strange place to wake up suddenly, because there is no room to stand and jump out of bed. I think with the mountain lion dream I actually pulled my tent free of its pegs.
I'm not scared of mountain lions. Just, if you saw two of them running up at you from behind, you might freak out too.
Oh today. It was all up and down. Climb a mountain, climb down the other side to cross a highway, climb up another mountain. I did get very frustrated halfway up the second mountain, and sat for a while on the side of the trail, the wind making me cold. Then I lost my sunglasses, which made everything better. Also, I broke my camera somehow. The screen is cracked, so while I can still take pictures, I can't tell how they turn out. This is frustrating, because I saw two coyotes today, one when I emerged from my tent this morning, and one where we set up camp tonight.
Coyotes are awesome. They look at you for a while while you look back at them, and then they trot silently away.
Right. Well. Despite all the climbing today (we reached 9,300 feet at one point), we managed to squeeze out 22 miles before dark. Two of those were along a highway on a detour because a portion of the trail is closed, so as not to disturb the endangered yellow legged mountain frog.
Ok whatever.
Gotta get some sleep. Another day of unnecessary climbing tomorrow. Couldn't just wind the trail around the mountains, no. Had to build it over every single one of them. G'night.
I woke up last night, under the impression that I'd been hiking and had suddenly passed out. I sat up and hit the ceiling of my tent, and became confused. This is the second walking dream I've had out here. The first was that mountain lions were running down the trail after me, and I started yelling out in my sleep. A tent is a strange place to wake up suddenly, because there is no room to stand and jump out of bed. I think with the mountain lion dream I actually pulled my tent free of its pegs.
I'm not scared of mountain lions. Just, if you saw two of them running up at you from behind, you might freak out too.
Oh today. It was all up and down. Climb a mountain, climb down the other side to cross a highway, climb up another mountain. I did get very frustrated halfway up the second mountain, and sat for a while on the side of the trail, the wind making me cold. Then I lost my sunglasses, which made everything better. Also, I broke my camera somehow. The screen is cracked, so while I can still take pictures, I can't tell how they turn out. This is frustrating, because I saw two coyotes today, one when I emerged from my tent this morning, and one where we set up camp tonight.
Coyotes are awesome. They look at you for a while while you look back at them, and then they trot silently away.
Right. Well. Despite all the climbing today (we reached 9,300 feet at one point), we managed to squeeze out 22 miles before dark. Two of those were along a highway on a detour because a portion of the trail is closed, so as not to disturb the endangered yellow legged mountain frog.
Ok whatever.
Gotta get some sleep. Another day of unnecessary climbing tomorrow. Couldn't just wind the trail around the mountains, no. Had to build it over every single one of them. G'night.
Tuesday, May 19th--Day 27
Couldn't seem to drag myself out of bed this morning. Tom, Jerry, two other hikers and I shared a room at Molly Ann's house. A huge room with one large bed, two alcoves with smaller beds, and a mattress on the floor. Tom and I took the alcoves, Jerry took the mattress, a hiker named "Just Chris" got the bed and a guy named Lewis ended up on the floor. Having become used to the semi-privacy of my tent, (it's like my own tiny, tiny house!) I slept uneasily and dreamt of murders, which is weird.
We finally dragged ourselves out of bed when Jessica (I'm just gonna make a separate list of all the hikers we encounter) called out breakfast.
The food! Yesterday, we had hamburgers and fajitas, and breakfast today was eggs, sausages, toast, fruit, yogurt and cheerios with milk! Lunch was nachos and hot dogs (!) with all the toppings. In between meals, we snacked on Red Vines, chocolate covered raisins, and the rare and wonderful yogurt covered raisins which I so dearly love. Washed down with every flavor of Crush, Brisk, Mountain Dew, or Dr. Pepper. Molly Ann is...there aren't words for the kind of generosity that she and others out here have shown us.
After the constant stream of food, we worked out how to get back up to the trail. We ended up sending our packs ahead to Highway 2 (the second way into and out of town from the PCT) and hiking pack-free back up the steep, winding Acorn Trail (the first way into town, and the way we had taken). From the top of Acorn Trail, we would have an easy six miles to the highway where our packs waited.
Acorn Trail has nothing to do with acorns, aside from the fact that it intersects with Acorn Drive, which also has nothing to do with acorns. Devil's Slide trail, which led into Idyllwild and was not as steep as this one, had a much better name. I'm just sayin'.
The hike back up Acorn Trail was pretty difficult, even without forty-five pounds on my back telling me to go back down. Jerry pushed ahead of me, steadily climbing up, up, up. When we got to the top, my breath returned, and I took off down the PCT at a run. Tom, who had actually run up the Acorn Trail, was long gone, but it felt so great to run with no weight on my back that I sprinted up hills and down into valleys, stopping when I ran out of breath.
I saw a coyote! It was crossing a dirt road, and looked back at me before disappearing into the brush. Awesome.
Met up with Tom at the highway, and when Jerry showed up soon after, we picked up our packs and hiked another mile or so in the fading light until we hit a campground. There may be a bear or bears around. The optimal outcome of this evening will be me riding one. 'Night.
We finally dragged ourselves out of bed when Jessica (I'm just gonna make a separate list of all the hikers we encounter) called out breakfast.
The food! Yesterday, we had hamburgers and fajitas, and breakfast today was eggs, sausages, toast, fruit, yogurt and cheerios with milk! Lunch was nachos and hot dogs (!) with all the toppings. In between meals, we snacked on Red Vines, chocolate covered raisins, and the rare and wonderful yogurt covered raisins which I so dearly love. Washed down with every flavor of Crush, Brisk, Mountain Dew, or Dr. Pepper. Molly Ann is...there aren't words for the kind of generosity that she and others out here have shown us.
After the constant stream of food, we worked out how to get back up to the trail. We ended up sending our packs ahead to Highway 2 (the second way into and out of town from the PCT) and hiking pack-free back up the steep, winding Acorn Trail (the first way into town, and the way we had taken). From the top of Acorn Trail, we would have an easy six miles to the highway where our packs waited.
Acorn Trail has nothing to do with acorns, aside from the fact that it intersects with Acorn Drive, which also has nothing to do with acorns. Devil's Slide trail, which led into Idyllwild and was not as steep as this one, had a much better name. I'm just sayin'.
The hike back up Acorn Trail was pretty difficult, even without forty-five pounds on my back telling me to go back down. Jerry pushed ahead of me, steadily climbing up, up, up. When we got to the top, my breath returned, and I took off down the PCT at a run. Tom, who had actually run up the Acorn Trail, was long gone, but it felt so great to run with no weight on my back that I sprinted up hills and down into valleys, stopping when I ran out of breath.
I saw a coyote! It was crossing a dirt road, and looked back at me before disappearing into the brush. Awesome.
Met up with Tom at the highway, and when Jerry showed up soon after, we picked up our packs and hiked another mile or so in the fading light until we hit a campground. There may be a bear or bears around. The optimal outcome of this evening will be me riding one. 'Night.
Monday, May 18th--Day 26
There is an ice cream store here, although I have not visited it yet. Yet.
Woke up this morning a hundred times better, happier than last night. It surprises me how quickly and completely we recover from a grueling, awful day. Every single morning, I've woken up ready to hike, ready to cover whatever miles and hardships lie before us. I'm very thankful for that.
Hit the trail (Acorn Trail) and made a fast descent down to Acorn Drive, a street lined with large wooden houses, more beautiful and luxurious than rustic. Followed Acorn Drive down into downtown Wrightwood, which was just waking up. Stopped for water at a cafe (food was too expensive) then to the post office for our food box.
Wrightwood is a really nice town. It's a little like Idyllwild in that it's well planned out for the pedestrian, with all the necessary stops (post office, market, hardware store) very close to each other. And, as in Idyllwild, the residents love thru-hikers. We quickly found ourselves at the home of a very kind woman, named Molly Ann, who offered to put us up for the night. We have showered, eaten, washed our clothes, and played Guitar Hero. Speaking of guitars, there is a real guitar here that I'm in love with. It transforms all of my clumsy fingerings into beautiful wooden sound. I played it until my fingers hurt too much to continue.
I can't really describe how generous complete strangers have been to us out here. I didn't like people before, but I'm starting to like them now. In general, I mean.
After a huge dinner and lots of phone calls, we headed out to the bar for karaoke, at which I am like a God-King. Unfortunately, there was none, so we drank beer and shot pool until closing time.
I'm not really that awesome at karaoke. I regret that God-King remark. It's way, way past bedtime. Goodnight.
Woke up this morning a hundred times better, happier than last night. It surprises me how quickly and completely we recover from a grueling, awful day. Every single morning, I've woken up ready to hike, ready to cover whatever miles and hardships lie before us. I'm very thankful for that.
Hit the trail (Acorn Trail) and made a fast descent down to Acorn Drive, a street lined with large wooden houses, more beautiful and luxurious than rustic. Followed Acorn Drive down into downtown Wrightwood, which was just waking up. Stopped for water at a cafe (food was too expensive) then to the post office for our food box.
Wrightwood is a really nice town. It's a little like Idyllwild in that it's well planned out for the pedestrian, with all the necessary stops (post office, market, hardware store) very close to each other. And, as in Idyllwild, the residents love thru-hikers. We quickly found ourselves at the home of a very kind woman, named Molly Ann, who offered to put us up for the night. We have showered, eaten, washed our clothes, and played Guitar Hero. Speaking of guitars, there is a real guitar here that I'm in love with. It transforms all of my clumsy fingerings into beautiful wooden sound. I played it until my fingers hurt too much to continue.
I can't really describe how generous complete strangers have been to us out here. I didn't like people before, but I'm starting to like them now. In general, I mean.
After a huge dinner and lots of phone calls, we headed out to the bar for karaoke, at which I am like a God-King. Unfortunately, there was none, so we drank beer and shot pool until closing time.
I'm not really that awesome at karaoke. I regret that God-King remark. It's way, way past bedtime. Goodnight.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Sunday, May 17th--Day 25
Today sucked.
Every day that has sucked so far had something good about it. The only good thing about today is that it's over.
We got a late start, hitting the trail at around seven. Once again, the sun was blazing by eight. After stopping at a water cache and filling to capacity, we began a long, steady climb into the mountains. No shade, no breezes, and whenever we stopped walking, we were accosted by black flies and bees. It was slow going, and we had lunch at one pm under a bush that provided a tiny amount of shade, swatting at flies the whole time.
After lunch, we pressed on up the mountain in the heat, stopping every few minutes to lean on our poles and breathe as flies tried to get into our ears. The worst part of the day came soon after. We found ourselves swarmed by gnats. They hovered and swirled as we walked, floating just in front of our eyes, noses, and mouths. I walked with my face down, unable to see ahead, because everytime I looked up I got a faceful of gnats. Clouds of gnats. I'm still going to be blowing them out of my nose tomorrow. Gross.
We did make it out of Gnat Town eventually, but the trail kept going, and I was exhausted. We were pushing on to the Acorn Trail, which will take us down to Wrightwood. We climbed farther and farther and I felt worse and worse. At one point, I hit a wall, and dropped my pack and sat motionless in the middle of the trail for a long time. I don't think I've ever been so exhausted. Finally I picked myself up, caught up with Tom and hiked on. We made it to a campsite (a perfect, beautiful campsite) 0.2 miles from Acorn Trail just as the sun was going down. Tonight's dinner: buttery homestyle mashed potatoes with Spam and mango chipotle salmon (not as good as it sounds) on a tortilla.
We go into Wrightwood tomorrow morning. I'm told they don't have an ice cream store, which is criminal. If I don't get ice cream tomorrow, I'm burning that mother down. Night!
Every day that has sucked so far had something good about it. The only good thing about today is that it's over.
We got a late start, hitting the trail at around seven. Once again, the sun was blazing by eight. After stopping at a water cache and filling to capacity, we began a long, steady climb into the mountains. No shade, no breezes, and whenever we stopped walking, we were accosted by black flies and bees. It was slow going, and we had lunch at one pm under a bush that provided a tiny amount of shade, swatting at flies the whole time.
After lunch, we pressed on up the mountain in the heat, stopping every few minutes to lean on our poles and breathe as flies tried to get into our ears. The worst part of the day came soon after. We found ourselves swarmed by gnats. They hovered and swirled as we walked, floating just in front of our eyes, noses, and mouths. I walked with my face down, unable to see ahead, because everytime I looked up I got a faceful of gnats. Clouds of gnats. I'm still going to be blowing them out of my nose tomorrow. Gross.
We did make it out of Gnat Town eventually, but the trail kept going, and I was exhausted. We were pushing on to the Acorn Trail, which will take us down to Wrightwood. We climbed farther and farther and I felt worse and worse. At one point, I hit a wall, and dropped my pack and sat motionless in the middle of the trail for a long time. I don't think I've ever been so exhausted. Finally I picked myself up, caught up with Tom and hiked on. We made it to a campsite (a perfect, beautiful campsite) 0.2 miles from Acorn Trail just as the sun was going down. Tonight's dinner: buttery homestyle mashed potatoes with Spam and mango chipotle salmon (not as good as it sounds) on a tortilla.
We go into Wrightwood tomorrow morning. I'm told they don't have an ice cream store, which is criminal. If I don't get ice cream tomorrow, I'm burning that mother down. Night!
Saturday, May 16th--Day 24
27 miles today. Our second biggest day, and we made it before dark. Woke up at five to the alarm on Jerry's new calculator watch, and we were on the trail by six. The first few hours went well, but by eight the sun was already bearing down. We followed the trail down out of the hills, past a dam, then along a highway. We found an empty cooler when the trail veered off again, the remains of trail magic. Then it was back up a steep hill. It was very hot, and I struggled to the top of the hill and over to see, suddenly, a lake! It was beautiful, spread out far below us. Speedboats and jet skis glided around on the surface and the shores were dotted with people fishing. We skirted the edges on the lake for a mile before finding a trail that split off and made our way to the pavilions and shade for an early lunch.
After lunch, we went back up to the trail and around the edges of the lake some more. Eventually, the trail cut away from the lake and descended to a road below. Tom and I caught up with Jerry, who had passed us during lunch. He hadn't eaten yet, so we followed a bike path to another picnic area, this one with a water spout! I filled my Nalgene, chugged the liter, then filled it again and drank some more. Then, I waddled over to a grassy area where Tom and Jerry were relaxing. I laid on my back in the grass, shaded by a tree, and I thought of home. I don't think I've ever been as homesick.
We rested for about an hour, then reluctantly threw our packs over our shoulders and headed back to the trail. The sun was now very hot, and we climbed into the hills, dripping sweat. Lots more climbing and a long descent, and we found ourselves in Crowder Canyon, where we made dinner a a creek and set up camp under buzzing power lines. I can hear traffic on a road in the distance.
22 miles to Wrightwood. Should be there Monday morning. Night.
After lunch, we went back up to the trail and around the edges of the lake some more. Eventually, the trail cut away from the lake and descended to a road below. Tom and I caught up with Jerry, who had passed us during lunch. He hadn't eaten yet, so we followed a bike path to another picnic area, this one with a water spout! I filled my Nalgene, chugged the liter, then filled it again and drank some more. Then, I waddled over to a grassy area where Tom and Jerry were relaxing. I laid on my back in the grass, shaded by a tree, and I thought of home. I don't think I've ever been as homesick.
We rested for about an hour, then reluctantly threw our packs over our shoulders and headed back to the trail. The sun was now very hot, and we climbed into the hills, dripping sweat. Lots more climbing and a long descent, and we found ourselves in Crowder Canyon, where we made dinner a a creek and set up camp under buzzing power lines. I can hear traffic on a road in the distance.
22 miles to Wrightwood. Should be there Monday morning. Night.
Friday, May 15th--Day 23
There was a hot spring!
We woke, packed, and hiked seven or eight miles before hitting it. I had run almost completely out of water, and I held my Nalgene bottle under the water where it came out of the mountain, then took long gulps. It was hot, but I was too thirsty to care. Before today, I've never drank untreated or unfiltered water right from a spring. It tasted pretty good.
We took a long, long break at the hot spring. In some areas, it was deep enough to swim, walled off from the creek surrounding it. I soaked for awhile in the hot water, then jumped into the comparatively freezing water of the creek, and was refreshed. Then my leg touched some seaweed, and I was grossed out. I am indeed a man's man.
We lounged in the shade, and I finished Of Mice and Men. It is a very sad, very good story. Next up is To Kill a Mockingbird.
Eventually, we had to leave, so it was back up into the dusty heat of the hills far above. The sun was very hot and we took a break in some shade where I put a packet of apple cider mix into my water, since it was hot anyway. It was delicious. Gonna have to get more of that stuff.
We scraped out about eight more miles and made camp in a nice, open, sandy area. The mosquitoes were just starting to bother me as I made dinner. It's good to be in my tent, away from them. I like nature, but I wish I could exhale Raid and wipe out all the little bugs that swirl around my face as I hike, and try to propel themselves. Earlier, one tried to fly into my eye. He missed by about half an inch, but as I was trying to wipe him away, he dodged my finger and crawled the rest of the distance into my eye. What tenacity!
I hate bugs. Going to sleep now. Night.
We woke, packed, and hiked seven or eight miles before hitting it. I had run almost completely out of water, and I held my Nalgene bottle under the water where it came out of the mountain, then took long gulps. It was hot, but I was too thirsty to care. Before today, I've never drank untreated or unfiltered water right from a spring. It tasted pretty good.
We took a long, long break at the hot spring. In some areas, it was deep enough to swim, walled off from the creek surrounding it. I soaked for awhile in the hot water, then jumped into the comparatively freezing water of the creek, and was refreshed. Then my leg touched some seaweed, and I was grossed out. I am indeed a man's man.
We lounged in the shade, and I finished Of Mice and Men. It is a very sad, very good story. Next up is To Kill a Mockingbird.
Eventually, we had to leave, so it was back up into the dusty heat of the hills far above. The sun was very hot and we took a break in some shade where I put a packet of apple cider mix into my water, since it was hot anyway. It was delicious. Gonna have to get more of that stuff.
We scraped out about eight more miles and made camp in a nice, open, sandy area. The mosquitoes were just starting to bother me as I made dinner. It's good to be in my tent, away from them. I like nature, but I wish I could exhale Raid and wipe out all the little bugs that swirl around my face as I hike, and try to propel themselves. Earlier, one tried to fly into my eye. He missed by about half an inch, but as I was trying to wipe him away, he dodged my finger and crawled the rest of the distance into my eye. What tenacity!
I hate bugs. Going to sleep now. Night.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Thursday, May 14th--Day 22
Woke up to bitter cold. The moisture in the air inside my tent had condensed, coating my rainfly in droplets and leaving frost on my poles. After we started hiking, our bodies warmed fast, and I had to put away the long-sleeved shirt, gloves, and wool hat that I'd put on just half an hour before. We found ourselves walking along hills scarred by wildfire, black husks of wood sticking out of the ground like burned hair. Then, suddenly, we were in a valley shaded by trees and cooled by a gorgeous, pounding stream. We had lunch and enjoyed the spot as best we could.
After lunch, up a boulder-lined path and back into the burned hills. We pushed through the day and, after crossing a well-made wooden bridge above a ravine, we started looking for a place to camp. After two or three miles, the trail reached a small field overlooking the river below. The ground was kind of flat, so we set up camp and started making dinner.
The mosquitoes are terrible. They clouded around me as I boiled the water for dinner. I ate in my tent tonight, watching the mosquitoes bump against the mesh door and walls, perplexed. Supposedly, there will be a hot spring tomorrow. Night!
After lunch, up a boulder-lined path and back into the burned hills. We pushed through the day and, after crossing a well-made wooden bridge above a ravine, we started looking for a place to camp. After two or three miles, the trail reached a small field overlooking the river below. The ground was kind of flat, so we set up camp and started making dinner.
The mosquitoes are terrible. They clouded around me as I boiled the water for dinner. I ate in my tent tonight, watching the mosquitoes bump against the mesh door and walls, perplexed. Supposedly, there will be a hot spring tomorrow. Night!
Wednesday, May 13th—Day 21
-Big Bear, Day Two.
Slept on the floor of our room at Motel Six last night. Steve and I both lost on the coin tosses, so Tom and Jerry took the beds. Steve set up by the entrance, and I slid in next to the bathroom door. It wasn’t uncomfortable but I seem to sleep better in my tent (which I have named “The Green Shark” due to its sleek, dorsal fin-like appearance, and due to the fact that, like sharks, once you’re inside getting out can get a bit tricky. The “Green” part is because it’s green.)
After scrambling around sorting our thing and checking, double checking, tiple checking to make sure we didn’t forget anything, we checked out, and Steve found a ride back up to the trail head. We still had more to do in town, and, with no transportation, we dropped our packs in the lobby and walked to the post office.
Big Bear is an interesting town. It’s close to Los Angeles, which makes it the ideal vacation spot for people trying to get away from big city life in this area. Some amount of celebrities have called it home, or second home, in the past, and some still do. Looking at the large houses on the other side of the lake from us, it wasn’t hard to imagine that they might. Our walk to the post office, however, led us through a more rundown part of town. It wasn’t an awful neighborhood, but I couldn’t lose the sense that it had been forgotten in favor of bigger wallets and higher-profile residents across town.
After the post office, we caught a bus to the library, where we used their computers, and then walked back to the motel. We’d intended to stop by Taco Bell again, but had passed it accidentally, not noticing until we were too far to go back. Instead, we ate at La Paws, a tiny Mexican place a block from the motel. I had a carnitas burrito. It was delicious. Best part of town.
I mean that. I don’t have anything really good to say about Big Bear, but I don’t think I like it too much. Idyllwild was way better. Small, and laid out perfectly so that we could walk anywhere we needed to go in minutes. And we were like heroes there. People love thru-hikers, jumping out of the woodwork to offer us rides.
Right. So, after we ate, we had to figure out a ride back to the trailhead, which was many miles from the hotel, and a long unnecessary walk in the dark. The owner of the hiker-friendly Nature’s Inn gave us a number to call, and a guy named Ryan picked us up from the motel shortly later. It turns out that he had no idea why the Nature’s Inn owner would even have his number, let alone give it out to people who need rides, but he drove us anyway, because he’s a hero who fights fires out here.
Ryan dropped us off and we set up camp just before the road, under a gorgeous starry sky. I love being back on the trail after a night in town, and I hope tomorrow will be as good as I feel like it will be. Night.
Slept on the floor of our room at Motel Six last night. Steve and I both lost on the coin tosses, so Tom and Jerry took the beds. Steve set up by the entrance, and I slid in next to the bathroom door. It wasn’t uncomfortable but I seem to sleep better in my tent (which I have named “The Green Shark” due to its sleek, dorsal fin-like appearance, and due to the fact that, like sharks, once you’re inside getting out can get a bit tricky. The “Green” part is because it’s green.)
After scrambling around sorting our thing and checking, double checking, tiple checking to make sure we didn’t forget anything, we checked out, and Steve found a ride back up to the trail head. We still had more to do in town, and, with no transportation, we dropped our packs in the lobby and walked to the post office.
Big Bear is an interesting town. It’s close to Los Angeles, which makes it the ideal vacation spot for people trying to get away from big city life in this area. Some amount of celebrities have called it home, or second home, in the past, and some still do. Looking at the large houses on the other side of the lake from us, it wasn’t hard to imagine that they might. Our walk to the post office, however, led us through a more rundown part of town. It wasn’t an awful neighborhood, but I couldn’t lose the sense that it had been forgotten in favor of bigger wallets and higher-profile residents across town.
After the post office, we caught a bus to the library, where we used their computers, and then walked back to the motel. We’d intended to stop by Taco Bell again, but had passed it accidentally, not noticing until we were too far to go back. Instead, we ate at La Paws, a tiny Mexican place a block from the motel. I had a carnitas burrito. It was delicious. Best part of town.
I mean that. I don’t have anything really good to say about Big Bear, but I don’t think I like it too much. Idyllwild was way better. Small, and laid out perfectly so that we could walk anywhere we needed to go in minutes. And we were like heroes there. People love thru-hikers, jumping out of the woodwork to offer us rides.
Right. So, after we ate, we had to figure out a ride back to the trailhead, which was many miles from the hotel, and a long unnecessary walk in the dark. The owner of the hiker-friendly Nature’s Inn gave us a number to call, and a guy named Ryan picked us up from the motel shortly later. It turns out that he had no idea why the Nature’s Inn owner would even have his number, let alone give it out to people who need rides, but he drove us anyway, because he’s a hero who fights fires out here.
Ryan dropped us off and we set up camp just before the road, under a gorgeous starry sky. I love being back on the trail after a night in town, and I hope tomorrow will be as good as I feel like it will be. Night.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Tuesday, May 12th -- Day 20
- Big Bear city!
Short entry tonight.
- Ate lots of Taco Bell. Thought I might explode.
- Ate lots of pizza. Still did not explode, somehow.
- Drank some beer.
- Hitched back to motel with a crazy guy.
- New pants!
My Mesa convertibles are done for. One rip in each leg, tar stains on the back side, various food stains on the lap, and, finally, a long rip, right up the seat. Tried to duct-tape them, but it didn't really work out.
Semper Fi, hiking pants. You brought me through almost three weeks of hard wear.
Should be back on the trail by tomorrow night. Still things to do in town. Library, post office, hardware store, trying my best to avoid crazy guy who gave us a ride tonight. Scary.
'Night.
Short entry tonight.
- Ate lots of Taco Bell. Thought I might explode.
- Ate lots of pizza. Still did not explode, somehow.
- Drank some beer.
- Hitched back to motel with a crazy guy.
- New pants!
My Mesa convertibles are done for. One rip in each leg, tar stains on the back side, various food stains on the lap, and, finally, a long rip, right up the seat. Tried to duct-tape them, but it didn't really work out.
Semper Fi, hiking pants. You brought me through almost three weeks of hard wear.
Should be back on the trail by tomorrow night. Still things to do in town. Library, post office, hardware store, trying my best to avoid crazy guy who gave us a ride tonight. Scary.
'Night.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Monday, May 11th -- Day 19
Today was much better than yesterday.
We packed up camp at around six-thirty and took off uphill. I messed up my food budget after Idyllwild, so I skipped breakfast and trudged through to lunch. Steve gave me some beef jerky to tide me over. He's a cool dude.
After lunch, we hit a good stride. The area around us had changed dramatically from yesterday's hot, dry, shadeless canyons. We found ourselves traveling along mountainsides well shaded by trees, with cool breezes pushing us along.
At around three, we hit a water cache supplied by either nature's inn or the hostel in Big Bear. Just as we were leaving, we ran into the managers of the hostel, who pulled up in a truck to refill the cache. We ran into them again a mile down the trail at another cache. This one had coolers full of bananas, apples, grapes, and cookies. There was even a beat-up recliner facing the view of the mountain. The hostel manager had a dog, a big German Shepard/wolf named Chief. I put my hand near him to pet him, and he growled loudly. I thought about punching him, but did not.
After the water cache, we hit our groove and covered a lot of ground in a short amount of time. By we, I mean Tom, Steve, and I. We left Jerry far behind, and now it is nighttime, and he has not found our camp. I hope he's alright out there on his own, the poor dear.
'Night.
We packed up camp at around six-thirty and took off uphill. I messed up my food budget after Idyllwild, so I skipped breakfast and trudged through to lunch. Steve gave me some beef jerky to tide me over. He's a cool dude.
After lunch, we hit a good stride. The area around us had changed dramatically from yesterday's hot, dry, shadeless canyons. We found ourselves traveling along mountainsides well shaded by trees, with cool breezes pushing us along.
At around three, we hit a water cache supplied by either nature's inn or the hostel in Big Bear. Just as we were leaving, we ran into the managers of the hostel, who pulled up in a truck to refill the cache. We ran into them again a mile down the trail at another cache. This one had coolers full of bananas, apples, grapes, and cookies. There was even a beat-up recliner facing the view of the mountain. The hostel manager had a dog, a big German Shepard/wolf named Chief. I put my hand near him to pet him, and he growled loudly. I thought about punching him, but did not.
After the water cache, we hit our groove and covered a lot of ground in a short amount of time. By we, I mean Tom, Steve, and I. We left Jerry far behind, and now it is nighttime, and he has not found our camp. I hope he's alright out there on his own, the poor dear.
'Night.
Sunday, May 10th -- Day 18
- What a day!
Another late start, then three hours in the rising heat until we hit a gorgeous stream, complete with a small waterfall. We stripped down to boxers and laid down in the water. It was awesome. Had lunch there, and moved on.
Then, everything started to suck. The sun was glaring down, and, although the trail followed the stream all day, criss-crossing over it, there seemed to be little long-term relief. As evening approached, I took the lead. Coming up a hill, I suddenly heard something that sounded exactly like an automatic sprinkler. I stopped and looked around, bewildered.. Then I saw a rattlesnake, like, three feet away. Bravely, I yelled and leapt back. Tom threw rocks at it until it moved far enough away for us to pass safely. Half an hour later, the same sound shot out, and there was another one to my right. This one was coiled and ready. I walked past carefully, and he drew back, preparing to strike. Made it safely away and hiked on.
As the day faded, we ran into several other hikers in a dry creek bed, and made dinner, which was good because I was completely out of energy. After dinner, we packed back on and started a sudden ascent through the San Bernadino National Forest. The sun set, and we pulled out our headlamps for night hiking. The trees formed a canopy, and the mountains around us formed a basin that we climbed over the next three hours. The air got colder, and the mountains became black shapes against a starry sky. We finally made it up to a sandy lot, and set up camp. It's actually quite cold, and my fingers are numb, so goodnight!
Another late start, then three hours in the rising heat until we hit a gorgeous stream, complete with a small waterfall. We stripped down to boxers and laid down in the water. It was awesome. Had lunch there, and moved on.
Then, everything started to suck. The sun was glaring down, and, although the trail followed the stream all day, criss-crossing over it, there seemed to be little long-term relief. As evening approached, I took the lead. Coming up a hill, I suddenly heard something that sounded exactly like an automatic sprinkler. I stopped and looked around, bewildered.. Then I saw a rattlesnake, like, three feet away. Bravely, I yelled and leapt back. Tom threw rocks at it until it moved far enough away for us to pass safely. Half an hour later, the same sound shot out, and there was another one to my right. This one was coiled and ready. I walked past carefully, and he drew back, preparing to strike. Made it safely away and hiked on.
As the day faded, we ran into several other hikers in a dry creek bed, and made dinner, which was good because I was completely out of energy. After dinner, we packed back on and started a sudden ascent through the San Bernadino National Forest. The sun set, and we pulled out our headlamps for night hiking. The trees formed a canopy, and the mountains around us formed a basin that we climbed over the next three hours. The air got colder, and the mountains became black shapes against a starry sky. We finally made it up to a sandy lot, and set up camp. It's actually quite cold, and my fingers are numb, so goodnight!
Saturday, May 9th -- Day 17
- Full moon tonight. The moon is spectacularly bright here, and bathes our campsite in light.
It turns out that we hiked about thirty miles yesterday. Big day. Today we hiked 17 or 18, and I don't feel bad at all about not breaking 20. We made our own trail through a stretch of desert where there was none, and found coolers full of pop under a bridge. After relaxing for a short while, we moved on. The terrain was pretty flat for once, but the rising heat made it unenjoyable. At around noon, we came across the Mesa wind farm. Bottles of water had been left out next to a huge truck that several hikers were relaxing under. I had lunch, then crawled into the shade beneath the truck and dozed for a while.
After nap time, Tom, Jerry, Steve, Bactrack (another hiker. Duh) and I took off for the hills at a pretty good pace, which slowed dramatically as we hit the trail approaching San Gorgonio Pass. Te ground was sandy, giving way under each step, and the trail switched back and forth at hideous angles. This section, however, was short, and we made it through the pass to strong winds and firm ground on a steady descent. I'm not kidding about the strong winds. We were getting blasted, and I had to struggle to stay on the trail. Finally, we made it to a stream? River? It's flowing fast and powerful, and I've never been so happy to see flowing water in my life. We set up camp in the sand of a dry creek bed close by, and made dinner. I had a chicken dumpling backpacker's pantry meal, and it was the most fulfilling camp dinner I've ever had. I'm not stuffed, but it just felt so good to eat that mess.
Anyway, stars are out and beautiful. I'm sleeping without the fly on my tent tonight.
G'night.
It turns out that we hiked about thirty miles yesterday. Big day. Today we hiked 17 or 18, and I don't feel bad at all about not breaking 20. We made our own trail through a stretch of desert where there was none, and found coolers full of pop under a bridge. After relaxing for a short while, we moved on. The terrain was pretty flat for once, but the rising heat made it unenjoyable. At around noon, we came across the Mesa wind farm. Bottles of water had been left out next to a huge truck that several hikers were relaxing under. I had lunch, then crawled into the shade beneath the truck and dozed for a while.
After nap time, Tom, Jerry, Steve, Bactrack (another hiker. Duh) and I took off for the hills at a pretty good pace, which slowed dramatically as we hit the trail approaching San Gorgonio Pass. Te ground was sandy, giving way under each step, and the trail switched back and forth at hideous angles. This section, however, was short, and we made it through the pass to strong winds and firm ground on a steady descent. I'm not kidding about the strong winds. We were getting blasted, and I had to struggle to stay on the trail. Finally, we made it to a stream? River? It's flowing fast and powerful, and I've never been so happy to see flowing water in my life. We set up camp in the sand of a dry creek bed close by, and made dinner. I had a chicken dumpling backpacker's pantry meal, and it was the most fulfilling camp dinner I've ever had. I'm not stuffed, but it just felt so good to eat that mess.
Anyway, stars are out and beautiful. I'm sleeping without the fly on my tent tonight.
G'night.
Friday, May 8th -- Day 16
Today was, so far, the most physically challenging day of my life.
Woke up at 5:15 to a shout from Steve, another hiker we camped with last night. Took way too long taking down camp, but we were moving by six-thirty. We crossed deep snow drifts, and lost the trail a few times, although not for long. After we crossed Fuller Ridge, it was finally time to descend. Tom and I pulled far ahead and started making our way down the mountain. We'd been under the impression that the trail leading to the desert floor would probably be about seven miles. It turned into a much longer hike. The trail led around a basin at a very, very gradual decline, switching back every once in a great while. We could see a town far below that never seemed to get any closer, no matter how far we'd gone. As the sun set, we pulled out our headlamps for night hiking. I saw a tarantula, and another spider that I can only describe as truly horrifying. Altogether, it took us about five hours to make our way down to the desert floor. Legs were killing me. We found a note at the bottom telling PCT hikers that there was water at a certain address. We followed the directions to the house and found two men sitting on a deck watching a baseball game that was on TV inside. Tom and I sat with them and a woman came out and offered us cold drinks if we rooted for the Angels. Of course, we did. After demolishing big cups of lemonade, a bowl of peanuts, and a box of M&Ms, we made our goodbyes and headed to their garden hose to fill up our water bottles. There, we found a cooler full of oranges, which we pigged out on.
Also, I found a big rock that looks like a shark! I took a picture.
G'night!
Woke up at 5:15 to a shout from Steve, another hiker we camped with last night. Took way too long taking down camp, but we were moving by six-thirty. We crossed deep snow drifts, and lost the trail a few times, although not for long. After we crossed Fuller Ridge, it was finally time to descend. Tom and I pulled far ahead and started making our way down the mountain. We'd been under the impression that the trail leading to the desert floor would probably be about seven miles. It turned into a much longer hike. The trail led around a basin at a very, very gradual decline, switching back every once in a great while. We could see a town far below that never seemed to get any closer, no matter how far we'd gone. As the sun set, we pulled out our headlamps for night hiking. I saw a tarantula, and another spider that I can only describe as truly horrifying. Altogether, it took us about five hours to make our way down to the desert floor. Legs were killing me. We found a note at the bottom telling PCT hikers that there was water at a certain address. We followed the directions to the house and found two men sitting on a deck watching a baseball game that was on TV inside. Tom and I sat with them and a woman came out and offered us cold drinks if we rooted for the Angels. Of course, we did. After demolishing big cups of lemonade, a bowl of peanuts, and a box of M&Ms, we made our goodbyes and headed to their garden hose to fill up our water bottles. There, we found a cooler full of oranges, which we pigged out on.
Also, I found a big rock that looks like a shark! I took a picture.
G'night!
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Thursday, May 7th -- Day 15
- Back on the trail. We slept in 'til around seven, and then took way too long cleaning up and packing to meet our 8 a.m ride, so we decided to leave around noon. This gave me time to completely empty my pack, reorganize my things, and throw away or discard to the hiker box any items that I don't need. After realizing that there were still things to be done in town, and the 12:00 time of departure drawing near, we pushed it back 'til 2:30.
Got a lot done in town. We sent out a box of things that we don't need anymore, picked up some long-sleeved dress shirts (sun protection in the desert) and some books (!) from a thrift shop, weighed our packs at the outfitter's (45 lbs. with 5 days food and two liters water) --
I just became bored while writing that stuff. Here are the important things, in list form:
*Devil's Slide wasn't as tough an ascent as I'd feared.
*My lungs aren't used to this altitude, which makes hiking up here a slow, gasping, breathless chore.
*Despite the altitude thing, despite the fact that I broke one stake and bent another trying to hammer them into this mountain, despite the cuts, scrapes, pains, sweat, dirt, and awful smells, I am so glad to be back on this stupid trail. I can't figure out why. I just feel, right now, like this is the most real and meaningful thing I can remember doing in my life.
Bedtime. 'Night!
Got a lot done in town. We sent out a box of things that we don't need anymore, picked up some long-sleeved dress shirts (sun protection in the desert) and some books (!) from a thrift shop, weighed our packs at the outfitter's (45 lbs. with 5 days food and two liters water) --
I just became bored while writing that stuff. Here are the important things, in list form:
*Devil's Slide wasn't as tough an ascent as I'd feared.
*My lungs aren't used to this altitude, which makes hiking up here a slow, gasping, breathless chore.
*Despite the altitude thing, despite the fact that I broke one stake and bent another trying to hammer them into this mountain, despite the cuts, scrapes, pains, sweat, dirt, and awful smells, I am so glad to be back on this stupid trail. I can't figure out why. I just feel, right now, like this is the most real and meaningful thing I can remember doing in my life.
Bedtime. 'Night!
Monday, May 25, 2009
Wednesday, May 6th -- Day 14
- Short entry tonight.
We zeroed in Idyllwild and hung around town all day. Good people, good food, good memories, I'm sure. Saw Wolverine at the movie theatre. Yes, the writing was kind of bad, but lots of things blew up, and Hugh Jackman cut people up, which is what I went there to see.
Had a campfire (our first) after the movie, and a pack of hikers that we didn't know materialized out of the darkness with beer.
At midnight, Tom and I brought out a cake and a card signed by all the thru-hikers we could find for Jerry's Birthday, which is technically now. More good times, and lots of talking around the campfire.
Today deserves much more writing than I'm bothering with, but it's very late, and we have lots of cleaning up to do before leaving tomorrow morning. So goodnight!
We zeroed in Idyllwild and hung around town all day. Good people, good food, good memories, I'm sure. Saw Wolverine at the movie theatre. Yes, the writing was kind of bad, but lots of things blew up, and Hugh Jackman cut people up, which is what I went there to see.
Had a campfire (our first) after the movie, and a pack of hikers that we didn't know materialized out of the darkness with beer.
At midnight, Tom and I brought out a cake and a card signed by all the thru-hikers we could find for Jerry's Birthday, which is technically now. More good times, and lots of talking around the campfire.
Today deserves much more writing than I'm bothering with, but it's very late, and we have lots of cleaning up to do before leaving tomorrow morning. So goodnight!
Monday, May 18, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Tuesday, May 5th--Day 13
We are in Idyllwild.
Started off the day at six am, and hiked to Fobe's Saddle, our first potential water source. We skipped it, deciding that we had enough water to get us to Apache Spring 3 miles down the trail. That's when things started to suck.
Just past Fobe's Saddle, I lifted my foot to take a step and got a sudden sharp pain deep in my lower back. I took a few more steps before the pain made me sit down. After resting and wondering what to do for a few minutes, I took some ibuprofen, stood up, and started creeping up the trail. There was a lot of climbing, and I was out of water, and it SUCKED.
Eventually, I caught up with Jerry, and we made our way uphill until we ran into Tom. By then, the pain had worked itself out somewhat, so I could almost hike at my normal pace. We moved on to the Apache Spring Trail Junction. All of us were out of water, having foolishly passed up several opportunities for Apache Spring, which was supposed to be only half a mile off the trail. Unfortunately, it turned out that the half mile was a quick plunge down the side of the mountain. We scrambled down, filtered the water from the mountain spring (cold and delicious) and had a long lunch. Then, it was time to climb back up.
The ascent on the Apache Spring Trail was by far the most difficult climb we've encountered yet. It consisted mostly of fierce switchbacks, punctuated by brutal direct climbs at a hideous angle. I climbed it twenty feet at a time, stopping in between to lean on my trekking poles and try to shake the tension out of my legs.
At long last, we made it to the top, only for more climbing. The trail became thin and treacherous. At one point I ducked to the outside to avoid a low branch, and my right foot went too far. The ground gave way, and half of me slid down the cliff. My left leg scraped hard against a rock as I landed on it, tearing my pants. I came out of it with nothing more than an ugly scrape, instead of a broken shin, which I imagine would have been probably the most painful thing in the universe.
Oh, ok. So, after a long, long day of climbs and descents, we made it to Devil's Slide, a trail that descends 2,300 feet over 25 miles. Not as ominous as it sounds, but I am not looking forward to climbing back up. As soon as we hit the bottom, a pickup truck pulled up, and a man and a woman (Ron and Sherrie) offered us a ride into town. They dropped us off at a pizza place and we stuffed ourselves before hiking to the state park campgrounds to camp for the night. G'night.
Started off the day at six am, and hiked to Fobe's Saddle, our first potential water source. We skipped it, deciding that we had enough water to get us to Apache Spring 3 miles down the trail. That's when things started to suck.
Just past Fobe's Saddle, I lifted my foot to take a step and got a sudden sharp pain deep in my lower back. I took a few more steps before the pain made me sit down. After resting and wondering what to do for a few minutes, I took some ibuprofen, stood up, and started creeping up the trail. There was a lot of climbing, and I was out of water, and it SUCKED.
Eventually, I caught up with Jerry, and we made our way uphill until we ran into Tom. By then, the pain had worked itself out somewhat, so I could almost hike at my normal pace. We moved on to the Apache Spring Trail Junction. All of us were out of water, having foolishly passed up several opportunities for Apache Spring, which was supposed to be only half a mile off the trail. Unfortunately, it turned out that the half mile was a quick plunge down the side of the mountain. We scrambled down, filtered the water from the mountain spring (cold and delicious) and had a long lunch. Then, it was time to climb back up.
The ascent on the Apache Spring Trail was by far the most difficult climb we've encountered yet. It consisted mostly of fierce switchbacks, punctuated by brutal direct climbs at a hideous angle. I climbed it twenty feet at a time, stopping in between to lean on my trekking poles and try to shake the tension out of my legs.
At long last, we made it to the top, only for more climbing. The trail became thin and treacherous. At one point I ducked to the outside to avoid a low branch, and my right foot went too far. The ground gave way, and half of me slid down the cliff. My left leg scraped hard against a rock as I landed on it, tearing my pants. I came out of it with nothing more than an ugly scrape, instead of a broken shin, which I imagine would have been probably the most painful thing in the universe.
Oh, ok. So, after a long, long day of climbs and descents, we made it to Devil's Slide, a trail that descends 2,300 feet over 25 miles. Not as ominous as it sounds, but I am not looking forward to climbing back up. As soon as we hit the bottom, a pickup truck pulled up, and a man and a woman (Ron and Sherrie) offered us a ride into town. They dropped us off at a pizza place and we stuffed ourselves before hiking to the state park campgrounds to camp for the night. G'night.
Monday, May 4th--Day 12
Today was the hardest day yet.
It started out easily enough, with a smooth descent and a brief walk up to the road, where we found some trail magic waiting for us. A man who calls himself Tarzan had set up a large tent with tables and coolers. We walked up, and he handed each of us a slice of watermelon. I have never tasted watermelon so good in my life. Tarzan ran around the tent attending to this or that as we sat and enjoyed the foods he kept supplying us with: Pears, lentil soup, granola, yogurt to put the granola in, orange juice, and so on. As we finally prepared to leave, he cut loose with the most impressive Tarzan yell I've ever heard in person, two feet away.
We left very full, and started climbing right away. The trail took us up steep inclines and over boulders, past fallen trees and over dry creek beds. Occasionally it would dip into a canyon before shooting up another mountainside. The sun was hot, but we were doing fine. Then, we hit a saddle, and from there the trail went into a swift ascent and never looked back. We climbed brutal switchbacks up the mountain only to come out to another climb, at an ever sharper angle. Every time we thought we'd gone as high as we could go, we'd turn a corner and the trail would lead up another, taller mountain. I poured sweat and gasped every breath as I climbed, stabbing the mountain as hard as I could with my poles for being such an awful bastard.
Eventually, we made it to the peak, and we climbed on top of some boulders and yelled as loud as we could, the wind roaring around us. We set up came in a wooded area farther down the trail. I am at the highest elevation I've ever been at. Tomorrow we're going to Idyllwild via Devil's Slide. It sounds ominous, no? Night.
It started out easily enough, with a smooth descent and a brief walk up to the road, where we found some trail magic waiting for us. A man who calls himself Tarzan had set up a large tent with tables and coolers. We walked up, and he handed each of us a slice of watermelon. I have never tasted watermelon so good in my life. Tarzan ran around the tent attending to this or that as we sat and enjoyed the foods he kept supplying us with: Pears, lentil soup, granola, yogurt to put the granola in, orange juice, and so on. As we finally prepared to leave, he cut loose with the most impressive Tarzan yell I've ever heard in person, two feet away.
We left very full, and started climbing right away. The trail took us up steep inclines and over boulders, past fallen trees and over dry creek beds. Occasionally it would dip into a canyon before shooting up another mountainside. The sun was hot, but we were doing fine. Then, we hit a saddle, and from there the trail went into a swift ascent and never looked back. We climbed brutal switchbacks up the mountain only to come out to another climb, at an ever sharper angle. Every time we thought we'd gone as high as we could go, we'd turn a corner and the trail would lead up another, taller mountain. I poured sweat and gasped every breath as I climbed, stabbing the mountain as hard as I could with my poles for being such an awful bastard.
Eventually, we made it to the peak, and we climbed on top of some boulders and yelled as loud as we could, the wind roaring around us. We set up came in a wooded area farther down the trail. I am at the highest elevation I've ever been at. Tomorrow we're going to Idyllwild via Devil's Slide. It sounds ominous, no? Night.
Sunday, May 3rd--Day 11
Camped in a field about fifty yards from Mike's house last night. Despite our attempts at waking up and leaving early, we found ourselves caught by Mike's unique sort of hospitality as he made a big pot of oatmeal. He saw some hikers moving along the hills in the distance and joked (?) about maybe being able to "pick them off from here" with what I assume was a paintball gun. Then he told us that the ribs he'd been smoking all night were done. Altogether, we didn't set out until about nine a.m.
The weather was nice for the first several hours, but the sun started glaring down at us around eleven. The day before, I had forgotten to put sunblock on, and ended up with a pair of very red sunburned arms. Today's sun made them feel like they were on fire. I will not forget sunblock again!
Had lunch down by a water tank (filterable) and I managed to burn my finger on the windscreen (Tom's) for my stove as I boiled my water. I'm not having a lot of luck with heat these last few days. After lunch, lots of difficult uphill hiking in the afternoon heat. Fortunately, I finally got a pair of trekking poles in Warner Springs, which made the climbs much easier.
We have a very nice campsite tonight. Tom took pictures. G'Night!
The weather was nice for the first several hours, but the sun started glaring down at us around eleven. The day before, I had forgotten to put sunblock on, and ended up with a pair of very red sunburned arms. Today's sun made them feel like they were on fire. I will not forget sunblock again!
Had lunch down by a water tank (filterable) and I managed to burn my finger on the windscreen (Tom's) for my stove as I boiled my water. I'm not having a lot of luck with heat these last few days. After lunch, lots of difficult uphill hiking in the afternoon heat. Fortunately, I finally got a pair of trekking poles in Warner Springs, which made the climbs much easier.
We have a very nice campsite tonight. Tom took pictures. G'Night!
Saturday, May 2nd--Day 10
Can't believe we've only been out here for 10 days now. Or, maybe I can't believe that we've actually been out here for 10 days now. I guess it's just disbelief all around.
Woke up at 5:45 this morning, packed as silently as possible (we were sharing a room with two other people who were still asleep), and blew out of town. After a long walk along the highway, we picked up the trail, and I could not have been happier to be hiking again. We climbed back up into hills and, as is becoming our routine, put in a lot of miles right away.
Inspired by another hiker, whose name I'm not writing simply because I don't know how to spell it, but he has a pretty cool mustache and he looks like a villain straight out of an old cartoon--Snidely Whiplash! From Dudley DoRight! I knew--
Right. Ok. So, I climbed a giant pile of rocks, a dangerous, stupid move, but well worth it. The jagged edge of one boulder ripped my finger as I pulled myself up, and then I found myself straddling the same edge, hanging on for dear life as the wind picked up and tried to blow me off the rocks and the mountain itself. (The pile of boulders was right at the peak of one of these hill/mountains, on the very edge of a precipice. The view was outstanding, and I did feel so very alive.)
After the rocks, we made our way along the hillsides until the trail poured out onto a dirt road, which led to the house of a Trail Angel named Mike Herrera. We'd heard of him, and his house is listed on the water (?) report, so we headed over to his place.
We came upon a one-story house in the middle of a gap between the hills. Tables were loaded with food, and there were several other hikers helping themselves. A woman named Suzanne introduced herself and told us to eat and drink. I asked about Mike, and a big man lying in a hammock in the far corner of the yard raised his hand, and told us that for each beer we drank, we had to take a shot of tequila. So, we ate, and we drank, and we sat around talking and laughing. We talked to Mike a bit:
Jerry: "How do you like living up here?"
Mike: "It's great. Except for a lot of hiker trash."
Me: "Yeah, we ran into some of those on the trail."
Mike: "You guys are like locusts! Swarm in here and eat!"
Jerry: "You keep putting food out!"
We all laughed. It was like a movie. I'm out of page and that's pretty much all anyway. 'Night!
Woke up at 5:45 this morning, packed as silently as possible (we were sharing a room with two other people who were still asleep), and blew out of town. After a long walk along the highway, we picked up the trail, and I could not have been happier to be hiking again. We climbed back up into hills and, as is becoming our routine, put in a lot of miles right away.
Inspired by another hiker, whose name I'm not writing simply because I don't know how to spell it, but he has a pretty cool mustache and he looks like a villain straight out of an old cartoon--Snidely Whiplash! From Dudley DoRight! I knew--
Right. Ok. So, I climbed a giant pile of rocks, a dangerous, stupid move, but well worth it. The jagged edge of one boulder ripped my finger as I pulled myself up, and then I found myself straddling the same edge, hanging on for dear life as the wind picked up and tried to blow me off the rocks and the mountain itself. (The pile of boulders was right at the peak of one of these hill/mountains, on the very edge of a precipice. The view was outstanding, and I did feel so very alive.)
After the rocks, we made our way along the hillsides until the trail poured out onto a dirt road, which led to the house of a Trail Angel named Mike Herrera. We'd heard of him, and his house is listed on the water (?) report, so we headed over to his place.
We came upon a one-story house in the middle of a gap between the hills. Tables were loaded with food, and there were several other hikers helping themselves. A woman named Suzanne introduced herself and told us to eat and drink. I asked about Mike, and a big man lying in a hammock in the far corner of the yard raised his hand, and told us that for each beer we drank, we had to take a shot of tequila. So, we ate, and we drank, and we sat around talking and laughing. We talked to Mike a bit:
Jerry: "How do you like living up here?"
Mike: "It's great. Except for a lot of hiker trash."
Me: "Yeah, we ran into some of those on the trail."
Mike: "You guys are like locusts! Swarm in here and eat!"
Jerry: "You keep putting food out!"
We all laughed. It was like a movie. I'm out of page and that's pretty much all anyway. 'Night!
Friday, May 1st--Day 9
We stayed in Warner Springs an extra night. I can't bring myself to be happy about this, despite the fact that it is a resort with stylish architecture and a cantina. And a hot spring pool right next to a heated (but cooler than the hot spring) regular pool.
I feel like we've been sidetracked. Here we are at this beautiful resort, eating blue cheese hamburgers until we're stuffed and soaking in the hot spring pool 'til we reek of sulfur, and the trail is still out there, calling. I feel...I don't know how I feel here, but it's not how I feel out there. I didn't realize 'til now how much I've been enjoying this hike. Out there, I lower my head and trudge up hill after hill after hill, pouring sweat. When the pack makes my shoulders hurt, I adjust the straps, shifting the weight to my hips. When my hips become too tired, I put the weight back on my shoulders. When my legs are screaming out and on fire, I stop for a minute to let them catch their breath, and then we trudge on. I Don't Slow My Pace. I was not in great shape when I started this, and I still have a long way to go, but I'm doing it, and my body is listening to me.
I'm being premature in my confidence. The desert is coming up soon. I don't know how well I'll handle the extreme temperatures. But I will try. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but I can't wait to get out of this hotel room and back into my tent, so I can feel like I'm doing something again. I am out of here tomorrow! Goodnight!
I feel like we've been sidetracked. Here we are at this beautiful resort, eating blue cheese hamburgers until we're stuffed and soaking in the hot spring pool 'til we reek of sulfur, and the trail is still out there, calling. I feel...I don't know how I feel here, but it's not how I feel out there. I didn't realize 'til now how much I've been enjoying this hike. Out there, I lower my head and trudge up hill after hill after hill, pouring sweat. When the pack makes my shoulders hurt, I adjust the straps, shifting the weight to my hips. When my hips become too tired, I put the weight back on my shoulders. When my legs are screaming out and on fire, I stop for a minute to let them catch their breath, and then we trudge on. I Don't Slow My Pace. I was not in great shape when I started this, and I still have a long way to go, but I'm doing it, and my body is listening to me.
I'm being premature in my confidence. The desert is coming up soon. I don't know how well I'll handle the extreme temperatures. But I will try. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but I can't wait to get out of this hotel room and back into my tent, so I can feel like I'm doing something again. I am out of here tomorrow! Goodnight!
Monday, May 11, 2009
Thursday, April 30th--Day 8
Warner Springs!
We broke 100 miles today. 100 miles! Tom and I are the fastest hikers we've run into. No one passes us.
Ok.
A 3-hour hike from camp to Barrel Springs, where a water source (contaminated) and a cooler full of soft drinks awaited us. There is a pop (soda) out here called "Cactus Cooler" which is unbelievably good, especially after hiking for ten miles in the San Felipe hills. Many of the other hikers we've met showed up, and we all had a long lunch in the shade, surrounded by bees, yes, but still alive and full of... joy? Life? Something good.
We set off after lunch, and I pulled ahead to explore on my own for a while. The hills soon gave way to prairies and plains, with cows grouped together off in the distance and their smell surrounding me.
I caught up with another hiker (Trainwreck) in the most beautiful field I've ever been in, and we followed the trail as it branched off to Eagle Rock.
Why "Eagle Rock?" I thought as I walked towards a group of boulders at the top of a hill. When I stood in front of them, my perspective lined up, and the answer was clear: in front of me, in the middle of this field, was an eagle rising out of the hilltop and frozen, at the moment of flight, in stone. A GIANT EAGLE. I climbed on it and had my picture taken, and Tom and Jerry showed up and did the same. What a magnificent place.
After a long break at Eagle Rock, we trudged the next four or five miles to Warner Springs.
Warner Springs is a resort. They have hot springs!
We checked in, paid for a room for 3 (each with their own bed!) and walked to our building. I finally showered! I am clean for the first time in over a week!
After getting our rooms set up, Tom and I headed out to the market for beer, only to find out that it had closed. We followed another group to the cantina, where we both had lots of beers and got drunk and ate hamburgers. Then Jerry finally met us there, but we left soon after and went swimming (!) in the hot spring (!!!).
I smell like rotten eggs. Or sulfur. Which is still eighty times better than I smelled earlier. Good night!
We broke 100 miles today. 100 miles! Tom and I are the fastest hikers we've run into. No one passes us.
Ok.
A 3-hour hike from camp to Barrel Springs, where a water source (contaminated) and a cooler full of soft drinks awaited us. There is a pop (soda) out here called "Cactus Cooler" which is unbelievably good, especially after hiking for ten miles in the San Felipe hills. Many of the other hikers we've met showed up, and we all had a long lunch in the shade, surrounded by bees, yes, but still alive and full of... joy? Life? Something good.
We set off after lunch, and I pulled ahead to explore on my own for a while. The hills soon gave way to prairies and plains, with cows grouped together off in the distance and their smell surrounding me.
I caught up with another hiker (Trainwreck) in the most beautiful field I've ever been in, and we followed the trail as it branched off to Eagle Rock.
Why "Eagle Rock?" I thought as I walked towards a group of boulders at the top of a hill. When I stood in front of them, my perspective lined up, and the answer was clear: in front of me, in the middle of this field, was an eagle rising out of the hilltop and frozen, at the moment of flight, in stone. A GIANT EAGLE. I climbed on it and had my picture taken, and Tom and Jerry showed up and did the same. What a magnificent place.
After a long break at Eagle Rock, we trudged the next four or five miles to Warner Springs.
Warner Springs is a resort. They have hot springs!
We checked in, paid for a room for 3 (each with their own bed!) and walked to our building. I finally showered! I am clean for the first time in over a week!
After getting our rooms set up, Tom and I headed out to the market for beer, only to find out that it had closed. We followed another group to the cantina, where we both had lots of beers and got drunk and ate hamburgers. Then Jerry finally met us there, but we left soon after and went swimming (!) in the hot spring (!!!).
I smell like rotten eggs. Or sulfur. Which is still eighty times better than I smelled earlier. Good night!
Wednesday, April 29th--Day Seven
Been out here for seven days now. Seven days. It feels longer to me. I haven't showered or bathed in that time. The dust that I kick up with each step passes right through my pants and cakes my legs. My pants themselves are pretty nasty. I've dropped a peanutbutter-coated tortilla on my lap. I tore one of the legs on a branch. I sat on a tar-covered telephone pole in Mt. Laguna, which left a stain that amuses Tom. And, just tonight, I managed to splatter gravy on them. (The gravy came from a hiker box in Mt. Laguna, where hikers drop off unwanted items for other hikers to sift through. I picked it up because I have mashed potatoes, but the mess was terrible when I finished eating. NOT WORTH IT.)
Where was I? Oh. Right. Out here for a week now. I'm homeless.
Today we finally descended from the mountains, and into the desert. It was early morning, so the heat wasn't that bad. A flat walk to Scissor's Crossing, where a water cache was set up, then back up again, into the San Felipe Hills. It was hot. I walked, head down, and watched the same drop of sweat roll back and forth along the brim of my hat for an hour. When I bent to rest, the sweat streamed from my hat like water from a faucet, ceaselessly.
We finally caught up with Skywalker, and Tom and I rested in the shade with him as he told us stories of the Appalachian Trail.
We finally made it to the third pipe gate, where another water cache is set up, and made camp along with several other hikers. It's the nicest camp I've had yet, finally not freezing, and we put in about twenty miles today. Still, tonight I really miss home. I miss my family, and my friends.
Still a long way to go. We're 91 miles in.
Good night.
Where was I? Oh. Right. Out here for a week now. I'm homeless.
Today we finally descended from the mountains, and into the desert. It was early morning, so the heat wasn't that bad. A flat walk to Scissor's Crossing, where a water cache was set up, then back up again, into the San Felipe Hills. It was hot. I walked, head down, and watched the same drop of sweat roll back and forth along the brim of my hat for an hour. When I bent to rest, the sweat streamed from my hat like water from a faucet, ceaselessly.
We finally caught up with Skywalker, and Tom and I rested in the shade with him as he told us stories of the Appalachian Trail.
We finally made it to the third pipe gate, where another water cache is set up, and made camp along with several other hikers. It's the nicest camp I've had yet, finally not freezing, and we put in about twenty miles today. Still, tonight I really miss home. I miss my family, and my friends.
Still a long way to go. We're 91 miles in.
Good night.
Tuesday, April 28th--Day Six
We covered a lot of distance today. Woke up at six, took down camp, and set off, only to find several other hikers down the trail about half a mile. Skywalker was there, and he told us that the park they'd camped at sucked, because it was windy all night. High winds turned out to be the theme of the day, as we sat down for lunch at a horse trough and the constant gusts coming down from the mountains blasted us the whole time.
I am a person who is frequently cold, and I've been cold for most of the time I've been out here because of the never-ending winds. I asked Geoff, who is sending our food out, to put my winter gear into the next box. I'm ready for it now, but I won't get it until Idyllwild. Guess I'll have to hold out for a while longer.
We've come about 70 miles so far, and I'm still able to walk, although my feet (which are awful to look at) are pretty taped up. I'm hanging in there, and so are Jerry and Tom.
Gonna try to get some sleep now, which may be difficult, because the walls of my tent are whipping around in the wind.
Feelin' ok.
Good night!
I am a person who is frequently cold, and I've been cold for most of the time I've been out here because of the never-ending winds. I asked Geoff, who is sending our food out, to put my winter gear into the next box. I'm ready for it now, but I won't get it until Idyllwild. Guess I'll have to hold out for a while longer.
We've come about 70 miles so far, and I'm still able to walk, although my feet (which are awful to look at) are pretty taped up. I'm hanging in there, and so are Jerry and Tom.
Gonna try to get some sleep now, which may be difficult, because the walls of my tent are whipping around in the wind.
Feelin' ok.
Good night!
Monday, April 27th--Day Five
Today was good. Woke up at 5:45 with very little soreness, except the pain in my ribs and back from sleeping on the ground. I'm not really complaining, because, based on how I felt when I went to bed last night, I'm surprised I could even move at all when I got up. We packed quickly and made an early start. After about four hours of solid hiking, we made it to Mount Laguna and the post office therein. Unfortunately, we arrived at ten-thirty, and the post office didn't open 'til noon, so we had a long wait. There was a shop next door, way overpriced but well stocked, and I blew too much money there to feel good about.
After taking care of post office stuff, we hiked back down the road towards the trail, and passed it by, like, half a mile without realizing. Just as we figured out our mistake, the shop owner pulled up in his pickup truck and gave us a ride back to the trail.
Today's hike took us through some beautiful country. We climbed more mountains, of course, and descended into canyons. We followed the trail along a valley and were hammered by intense wind that almost blew us off course. Light began to fade, so we made camp in a valley not quite so windswept, but breezy all the same. The walls of my tent will not stop flapping, and I'm not crazy about it.
See you tomorrow.
After taking care of post office stuff, we hiked back down the road towards the trail, and passed it by, like, half a mile without realizing. Just as we figured out our mistake, the shop owner pulled up in his pickup truck and gave us a ride back to the trail.
Today's hike took us through some beautiful country. We climbed more mountains, of course, and descended into canyons. We followed the trail along a valley and were hammered by intense wind that almost blew us off course. Light began to fade, so we made camp in a valley not quite so windswept, but breezy all the same. The walls of my tent will not stop flapping, and I'm not crazy about it.
See you tomorrow.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Sunday, April 26--Day 4
Started today with a light breakfast that turned into a heavy breakfast, generously supplied by a organization whose name I don't know. It's printed on the T-shirt I got, but I'm wearing that shirt underneath another shirt and I'm cold and I'm in my sleeping bag so no. Anyway. Breakfast! Eggs, sausages, black bean and egg burritos, hash browns, granola, yogurt, and fresh fruit! I ate more than I meant to, and we sort of took out time before setting out. This time, we were accompanied by a guy named Dirk, although only briefly for Tom and I. Our pace is much quicker than Jerry's, although his is steady, and Dirk's pace matches his. It wasn't long at all before Tom and I left Jerry and Dirk behind.
Unfortunately, the fast pace definitely took its toll on me as the day progressed. So far, this trail seems to have been merely uphill, with some downhill mixed in for brief periods. Today was no different. Up one mountainside, down the other a bit, then up the next, higher and higher but never reaching a peak. All this climbing is killing my legs, butt, and lower back, and the pack, loaded with six liters of water, is killing my shoulders. If we don't get out of these mountains soon, I'm in trouble.
Things aren't all bad. After one steep climb, we suddenly hit a highway with pickup trucks parked on the roadside and people lounging in chairs. These people are "Trail Angels," and they pointed us towards coolers full of water, pop, and beer. I sat on a rock, airing out my feet and sipping a beer for maybe twenty minutes.
It was glorious. After the trail magic, as people call it, we took off on another brutal climb. A couple of miles farther, we hit a patch of trees in a valley, and plopped down on the grass in the shade to wait for Jerry. He caught up with us eventually and we powered up another set of mountains.
We managed to find a decent spot to set up camp right before the sun set. I'm not sure what we would have done if we hadn't, but it doesn't matter.
Ok. Exhausted again. G'night.
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