So, here I am in Agua Dulce. Things have been going pretty well. That stay in Wrightwood was pretty amazing; what an awesome family, to open up their house to a bunch of total strangers, smelly hiker trash no less; cook them dinner and breakfast, let us get cleaned up, and want nothing in the bargain. I admit I was almost waiting for a sermon or something, but that kind of cynicism is slowly fading from my mind. Sometimes you run across such things in life, and it just restores you, deep down. There are still good people out there.
We were able to escape the Wrightwood vortex, though, by around 9 AM, when we began hiking towards Mt. Baden-Powell, our last big mountain before the Sierras. After lunch at its foot, K-Bomb and I began the climb, with Drop and Roll right behind, and Ninja and Scott a bit further back. It was a slow, steady ascent; I counted 19 switchbacks before the snow drifts consolidated into a single snowfield, and we began moving across it straight for the summit, as the trail was lost. That was some work, as we still had about a third of the way to go; that's what happens when the trail is on the north side of the mountain. After being gravely dissappointed by a false-summit, we finally found the summit spur trail and went to the top, which was snow free and provided a 360 degree view on this bluebird day. We could see all the way back to Mt San Jacinto, and had the smog been less, we could have seen the Pacific. After another lunch break, we began a ridge traverse over more snow, and we (K-Bomb, Drop and Roll, and I) did our first glissade, which is when you slide down the snow on your butt. It's cold but quick: K-Bomb says, "work smarter not harder."
That was a short mileage day, due to the late start and the big climb, only 14 miles, but we made up for it. Two days ago we had a longish waterless stretch, 18 miles from where we were eating lunch, meaning a dry camp and a lot of pack weight. As we ate, I said, "you know, I'm almost tempted to just go all the way to the North Fork Ranger Station," which was the next water and a staggering 29 miles for the day. As we got to Messenger Flats Campground around 6 and ate dinner, and Drop and Roll and I were definitely feeling like moving on. K-Bomb was on the fence. A little later Ninja and Scott rolled in, and said they were done for the day. We convinced K-Bomb to do it, since it meant we'd only have 18 miles to get here, better than a full 24, and we'd be meeting back up with Ninja and Scott the next day in town anyways. So 6 more miles of hiking, a ridiculously beautiful sunset, and a lot of stumbling around in the dusky half-light, and we were there. Felt pretty good, considering it's the farthest I've ever hiked in one go.
I was glad to only have 18 to do the next day too, as we were getting to lower elevations again and it was hot. I'm thinking about renaming the sun "scare ball." I plan to start hiding from it more often, hiking more in the mornings and evenings, and sitting out the noon in a siesta. We shall see. We have the Mojave section ahead of us, walking the LA aqueduct, a long dry section that may call for straight up night hiking. Too bad the moon won't be out, as it's about gone and won't really be up in the night for another week, and I'm not waiting. But we are taking a zero here in Agua Dulce, as we haven't had a day off for 9 days, and feeling good or not, I need a rest. At one point I thought I'd pulled a tendon behind my right knee, walking through a burn area where the trail was in pretty bad shape, and yesterday a tendon in my right foot's arch was feeling the same way. Both are fine now, but definitely a sign to cool it a bit. I'm also very happy to be in town and able to eat to the point of discomfort. In fact, this hostel has bikes, and when K-Bomb wakes up I'm going to see if he wants to ride down to the cafe for breakfast. Can't wait for some coffee!
But of course, despite my great love for the comforts of civilization (namely food, drink, showers, and laundry), I really do love being out there, and always get antsy to be moving again. The hiking is truly where it's at; when I'm walking, the sheer simplicity of that, the pureness of the movement, the rhythm of my breathing, the sweat and the burn of the muscles, it just puts me at ease. Maybe I'm an endorphin junkie, but I can think of worse ways to get high. There's nothing like a long distance hike, in my mind. You get your fix, and you also get to see beautiful places and make great friends.
May post pictures later if I get a chance.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
Wrightwood
Thought I'd give you all a "day in the life" for a thru-hiker; namely, me.
Wake up around 6, glance over at K-Bomb. Notice that he is already deflating his sleeping pad, ready to stuff his sleeping bag away. Go to sleep for five more minutes. Finally sit up, squinting and blinking in the light. Mumble a little. See that K-Bomb's gear is all in a neat pile, ready to pack. Feel a bit rushed. Reach into food bag (resting beside head) and grab a breakfast bar (Snickers), eat in the sleeping bag, maybe a honey bun too. Finally get out into the cold air, quickly stuff sleeping bag in stuff sack, put that, journal-and-map bag, food bag, and snack bag in pack. Brush teeth, realize you are ready to hike. Notice that K-Bomb is still largely unpacked. Wait ten or fifteen minutes. Finally begin walking.
Hike. Eat while hiking, from food stuffed in pockets. Sweat. Think about life, women, work, or maybe just sing songs in your head, or else think about nothing at all for hours. Take a break after 8 to 10 miles or so, eat. Consult map, answer everyone's questions about where we are, how far we have left, what the climbs look like, where the next water is. Enjoy being useful. Possibly play a game of Blisters (R), or else just watch one another pop theirs, making comments regarding size and distance the fluid sprays. Talk mostly about your feet, her feet, his feet.
Hike. Eat while hiking. Walk behing K-Bomb for hours, but talk seldom. Watch his feet, step, step, step, until you're almost trancing. Drool a little maybe. Sweat. Take random pictures and be unsure of their quality. Take another break after 6-8 miles, discuss where we might want to camp, eat again. Hike another 6-8 miles.
Finally reach a campsite maybe an hour before sundown (unless it's been real hot, then, an hour after sundown). Possibly play a game of Blisters (R), or else just watch one another pop theirs, making comments regarding size and distance the fluid sprays. Talk mostly about your feet, her feet, his feet. Cook dinner, enjoy it immensely, even though it's just noodles. Take a fistful of Ibuprofen, write in journal, lay down to sleep at around 8:30. Be asleep by 8:33.
******
As for what's actually been up lately, all's well. Feet are actually vastly improved, and with a few days of easier terrain, we've been cranking miles including one day over 25 miles. I also appreciate a solid lunch of avocado and cheese in tortillas, that's real power food. Food is amazing, it makes me so happy to eat.
Also, we came to the Deep Creek detour, a long road walk, and decided to just hike the real PCT, landslides or not. What a beautiful canyon, all day walking along the canyon sides, looking at and hearing the water below, a rarity for sure, not to mention the freakin' hot springs. Lots of naked hippies everywhere, but it was great to soak a while in the hot water. The landslides weren't even that bad, except in two places where it was a little tricky (read: fun). Glad once more that we didn't obey the rules.
Wrightwood is amazing, we've had a great welcome. A ride materialized out of the heavy fog for Ninja at the trailhead, and she was able to get the guy to wait for the rest of us. Then in town as we were trying to figure out lodging, not wanting to pay the high hotel rates, a local woman showed up and told us to come stay at her place: showers, laundry, internet, burgers, and beds. Amazing. Then at the bar, locals kept buying us beers and even gave K-Bomb a taco. We didn't spend a dime on drinks. And everyone's so friendly, welcoming us to their town. Wish we could take a zero here, just to enjoy that, but we're hiking out in the morning.
That's all for now, gotta go shower and eat!
Wake up around 6, glance over at K-Bomb. Notice that he is already deflating his sleeping pad, ready to stuff his sleeping bag away. Go to sleep for five more minutes. Finally sit up, squinting and blinking in the light. Mumble a little. See that K-Bomb's gear is all in a neat pile, ready to pack. Feel a bit rushed. Reach into food bag (resting beside head) and grab a breakfast bar (Snickers), eat in the sleeping bag, maybe a honey bun too. Finally get out into the cold air, quickly stuff sleeping bag in stuff sack, put that, journal-and-map bag, food bag, and snack bag in pack. Brush teeth, realize you are ready to hike. Notice that K-Bomb is still largely unpacked. Wait ten or fifteen minutes. Finally begin walking.
Hike. Eat while hiking, from food stuffed in pockets. Sweat. Think about life, women, work, or maybe just sing songs in your head, or else think about nothing at all for hours. Take a break after 8 to 10 miles or so, eat. Consult map, answer everyone's questions about where we are, how far we have left, what the climbs look like, where the next water is. Enjoy being useful. Possibly play a game of Blisters (R), or else just watch one another pop theirs, making comments regarding size and distance the fluid sprays. Talk mostly about your feet, her feet, his feet.
Hike. Eat while hiking. Walk behing K-Bomb for hours, but talk seldom. Watch his feet, step, step, step, until you're almost trancing. Drool a little maybe. Sweat. Take random pictures and be unsure of their quality. Take another break after 6-8 miles, discuss where we might want to camp, eat again. Hike another 6-8 miles.
Finally reach a campsite maybe an hour before sundown (unless it's been real hot, then, an hour after sundown). Possibly play a game of Blisters (R), or else just watch one another pop theirs, making comments regarding size and distance the fluid sprays. Talk mostly about your feet, her feet, his feet. Cook dinner, enjoy it immensely, even though it's just noodles. Take a fistful of Ibuprofen, write in journal, lay down to sleep at around 8:30. Be asleep by 8:33.
******
As for what's actually been up lately, all's well. Feet are actually vastly improved, and with a few days of easier terrain, we've been cranking miles including one day over 25 miles. I also appreciate a solid lunch of avocado and cheese in tortillas, that's real power food. Food is amazing, it makes me so happy to eat.
Also, we came to the Deep Creek detour, a long road walk, and decided to just hike the real PCT, landslides or not. What a beautiful canyon, all day walking along the canyon sides, looking at and hearing the water below, a rarity for sure, not to mention the freakin' hot springs. Lots of naked hippies everywhere, but it was great to soak a while in the hot water. The landslides weren't even that bad, except in two places where it was a little tricky (read: fun). Glad once more that we didn't obey the rules.
Wrightwood is amazing, we've had a great welcome. A ride materialized out of the heavy fog for Ninja at the trailhead, and she was able to get the guy to wait for the rest of us. Then in town as we were trying to figure out lodging, not wanting to pay the high hotel rates, a local woman showed up and told us to come stay at her place: showers, laundry, internet, burgers, and beds. Amazing. Then at the bar, locals kept buying us beers and even gave K-Bomb a taco. We didn't spend a dime on drinks. And everyone's so friendly, welcoming us to their town. Wish we could take a zero here, just to enjoy that, but we're hiking out in the morning.
That's all for now, gotta go shower and eat!
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Big Bear Lake
Here I am in Big Bear Lake, taking another zero. Why? Well, I guess I shouldn't have opened my big mouth about being all healed and doing great physically. We all have many new blisters or at least very sore feet, and a strong desire for another day off to heal. Plus, it's been snowing again and we were happy to escape that bit of bad weather. We never had any snow ourselves, but it has been very cold.
Still, the last few days have been pretty good to me, far more positive, mentally and physically, than the days leading up to Idyllwild. For starters, we began with some amazing luck. See, we'd gone into Idyllwild via the Devil's Slide Trail, a 2.5 mile trail that leaves you at a trailhead at some park at the end of a little used road: meaning, roadwalk. We'd been trying to psych ourselves up for this total of 4.5 miles back to the PCT, miles that didn't count towards Canada. K-Bomb and I were the first ones ready to go, the first ones out the door. Truly, I hadn't even made it fully outside when I heard a woman say, "do you guys need a ride to the trail?" Astonishing luck, saved us 2 miles of walking some steep road. We piled 6 hikers plus gear into her SUV.
This good fortune resulted in K-Bomb and I having enough time to summit San Jacinto Mountain. It was a 6.5 mile loop off the PCT, which means we'd miss 4 miles of the actual trail. But I'll be blunt: I'm no purist. I don't care about walking every little mile of the PCT. I'm walking to Canada. If I do it on my own two feet (no hitch-hiking to skip parts) then it counts. So on up we went, up to 10,800 feet or so. Even with the altitude, I'm pretty sure I was sucking wind far harder on the climb out of Pearisburg, VA on the AT, than going up this mountain. Not bad for a guy with a heart condition; I'm so far very pleased with how that's been treating me out here. We had to traverse a lot of snow, and the spur trail to the summit itself was lost, we just went straight up over the snow. The view was 360 degrees and perfectly clear, looking out to many other nearby ranges, several with snow on them, and down 9000 or more feet to the desert floor. We stayed only briefly, then went down.
Getting down meant more bushwhacking. The trail after the area of the little summit spur was covered as well, so I told K-Bomb that we should just pull out the compass, shoot a bearing, and get back to the PCT the quick way. It would also avoid a bit of a loop to the south, which the official side trail does. Shortcuts, right?
Well, it worked, sorta. There was much "boot skiing" over the snowpack, trying to avoid trees and rocks. It was great fun, really. But in the end it was tiring and the topography seemed to be getting far harder to get over, huge boulders and such. We found the stream we'd been looking for, though, followed it a bit until we found the side trail, and ended up following it to the PCT. The whole day was pretty tiring, complete with soaked feet. Still, I was glad we ended up summitting the mountain; we'd figured against it and only decided to do it at the last minute.
So I mentioned wet feet. I had new blisters by the time we made camp. Then the next day didn't help much. We had miles and miles (and miles) of downhill, switchbacks from 9000 ft to 1000 ft. None of our feet took it well. We ended up at the Mesa Wind Farm and camped there, relaxing and doctoring our feet. Ninja and Drop and Roll had joined us by this point, they're sort of hiking with us as a group. We all continually find it amusing how much we talk about our feet, how we all watch each other pop our blisters... I actually had an audience the other evening, as I prepared to pop a huge on on the outside edge of my foot, then one on the same foot's heel. The latter squirted out like a fountain, warning everyone back. And, I have a toenail MIA. It was there when I put the socks and shoes on in the morning, but when I took them off on a shoes-off break, it was gone. At first I thought the giant blister under it had just seriously deflated, then I looked closer and was like, "wait, where the fuck is my toe nail?!" Musta been that barefoot ford of the Whitewater creek. K-Bomb keeps saying I'm going to find it months from now after the trail, floating around in my food bag.
Ninja referred the the PCT as "dirt and pain," which we all had a good laugh over. It's sorta true, yet somehow we all love it. For myself I'm realizing how much better I am at pushing myself through pain and adversity than before. I feel stronger as a man in that sense of inner toughness. When before I might have wanted to just sit down because my feet hurt or I'm tired, it's now far clearer to me that it's better to just keep moving.
Finally, yesterday we woke up from the frigid night, dreaming of town some 20 miles away. We had an early start, easy miles, and cool (cold, almost) weather. We cruised all morning, though Ninja, K-Bomb and I did get lost briefly; while following a forest road for a while, we missed a turnoff. Still, we ended up getting to the road by 3, a pretty solid pace. For the last 4 miles or so, after our last break, I put myself in a trance with a simple breathing technique: two steps breathing in, two breathing out. The trekking poles help set the rhythm. My vision sorta blurred over and contracted to just the trail and K-Bomb's feet, most thinking stopped, the pain in my feet was gone such that I felt like I was just floating along, and the hour and a half or so that it took to get to the road felt like 20 minutes. Of course I have no idea about the landscapes we walked through, so it's a trade off.
At the road was some trail magic, and also a ride from the hostel we were going to, all in the space of about two minutes. The trail provides. Sure great to be indoors, as the weather continues to be freezing and it's currently raining out. We have showers, much food, movies, coffee. We all love the hiking, the mountains, all of that, but all of that makes us also love town more too.
Still, the last few days have been pretty good to me, far more positive, mentally and physically, than the days leading up to Idyllwild. For starters, we began with some amazing luck. See, we'd gone into Idyllwild via the Devil's Slide Trail, a 2.5 mile trail that leaves you at a trailhead at some park at the end of a little used road: meaning, roadwalk. We'd been trying to psych ourselves up for this total of 4.5 miles back to the PCT, miles that didn't count towards Canada. K-Bomb and I were the first ones ready to go, the first ones out the door. Truly, I hadn't even made it fully outside when I heard a woman say, "do you guys need a ride to the trail?" Astonishing luck, saved us 2 miles of walking some steep road. We piled 6 hikers plus gear into her SUV.
This good fortune resulted in K-Bomb and I having enough time to summit San Jacinto Mountain. It was a 6.5 mile loop off the PCT, which means we'd miss 4 miles of the actual trail. But I'll be blunt: I'm no purist. I don't care about walking every little mile of the PCT. I'm walking to Canada. If I do it on my own two feet (no hitch-hiking to skip parts) then it counts. So on up we went, up to 10,800 feet or so. Even with the altitude, I'm pretty sure I was sucking wind far harder on the climb out of Pearisburg, VA on the AT, than going up this mountain. Not bad for a guy with a heart condition; I'm so far very pleased with how that's been treating me out here. We had to traverse a lot of snow, and the spur trail to the summit itself was lost, we just went straight up over the snow. The view was 360 degrees and perfectly clear, looking out to many other nearby ranges, several with snow on them, and down 9000 or more feet to the desert floor. We stayed only briefly, then went down.
Getting down meant more bushwhacking. The trail after the area of the little summit spur was covered as well, so I told K-Bomb that we should just pull out the compass, shoot a bearing, and get back to the PCT the quick way. It would also avoid a bit of a loop to the south, which the official side trail does. Shortcuts, right?
Well, it worked, sorta. There was much "boot skiing" over the snowpack, trying to avoid trees and rocks. It was great fun, really. But in the end it was tiring and the topography seemed to be getting far harder to get over, huge boulders and such. We found the stream we'd been looking for, though, followed it a bit until we found the side trail, and ended up following it to the PCT. The whole day was pretty tiring, complete with soaked feet. Still, I was glad we ended up summitting the mountain; we'd figured against it and only decided to do it at the last minute.
So I mentioned wet feet. I had new blisters by the time we made camp. Then the next day didn't help much. We had miles and miles (and miles) of downhill, switchbacks from 9000 ft to 1000 ft. None of our feet took it well. We ended up at the Mesa Wind Farm and camped there, relaxing and doctoring our feet. Ninja and Drop and Roll had joined us by this point, they're sort of hiking with us as a group. We all continually find it amusing how much we talk about our feet, how we all watch each other pop our blisters... I actually had an audience the other evening, as I prepared to pop a huge on on the outside edge of my foot, then one on the same foot's heel. The latter squirted out like a fountain, warning everyone back. And, I have a toenail MIA. It was there when I put the socks and shoes on in the morning, but when I took them off on a shoes-off break, it was gone. At first I thought the giant blister under it had just seriously deflated, then I looked closer and was like, "wait, where the fuck is my toe nail?!" Musta been that barefoot ford of the Whitewater creek. K-Bomb keeps saying I'm going to find it months from now after the trail, floating around in my food bag.
Ninja referred the the PCT as "dirt and pain," which we all had a good laugh over. It's sorta true, yet somehow we all love it. For myself I'm realizing how much better I am at pushing myself through pain and adversity than before. I feel stronger as a man in that sense of inner toughness. When before I might have wanted to just sit down because my feet hurt or I'm tired, it's now far clearer to me that it's better to just keep moving.
Finally, yesterday we woke up from the frigid night, dreaming of town some 20 miles away. We had an early start, easy miles, and cool (cold, almost) weather. We cruised all morning, though Ninja, K-Bomb and I did get lost briefly; while following a forest road for a while, we missed a turnoff. Still, we ended up getting to the road by 3, a pretty solid pace. For the last 4 miles or so, after our last break, I put myself in a trance with a simple breathing technique: two steps breathing in, two breathing out. The trekking poles help set the rhythm. My vision sorta blurred over and contracted to just the trail and K-Bomb's feet, most thinking stopped, the pain in my feet was gone such that I felt like I was just floating along, and the hour and a half or so that it took to get to the road felt like 20 minutes. Of course I have no idea about the landscapes we walked through, so it's a trade off.
At the road was some trail magic, and also a ride from the hostel we were going to, all in the space of about two minutes. The trail provides. Sure great to be indoors, as the weather continues to be freezing and it's currently raining out. We have showers, much food, movies, coffee. We all love the hiking, the mountains, all of that, but all of that makes us also love town more too.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
More pics, Mexico to Idyllwild
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| Scout (trail angel, arms raised) telling stories in San Diego |
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| K-Bomb and I at the border monument. Northward ho! |
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| Speed Bump, Busted Magic, K-Bomb, Marc, and Drop and Roll hanging out at the Kick Off |
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| Oh wonderful. Rattlesnakes, scorpions, and bombs? |
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| Rockin the floppy hat and shades in the desert |
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| Horny Toad |
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| Some kind of flower |
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| The desert in bloom |
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| K-Bomb's resupply. Mostly junk food, same as the rest of us. Mmmm.... honey buns. |
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| Terrible picture, but there's Pepe Lopez, and the two guys who gave us a ride to Idyllwild. |
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| SCA trail crew doing trail magic at Scissors Crossing. True magicians. |
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| Hiker style. Note socks with sandals, and the swim trunks over the long johns. Yes, I go out in public like this. |
Pictures: Mex Border to Idyllwild
After my extremely depressing previous post, here's where it's really at out here most of the time. Beautiful landscapes, fun and excellent people, good times all around. I think I have these generally in order, damn near anyways. I'm pretty sure clicking on the photos brings up the full size.
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| A lot of folks started hiking the same day as me. I'm front row second from the right, with K-Bomb |
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| Burn area on our first day of hiking. Lots of flowers |
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| Some dry hills |
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| Acting stupid at the border |
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| Almost to Lake Morena |
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| This was one pissed off buzz worm. Scared the shit out of me, actually. |
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| Left to right: Ninja, Drop and Roll, K-Bomb, and Busted Magic at a restaraunt in Warner Springs |
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| San Felipe Hills at Scissor's Crossing in the evening. Dead tired getting here, almost injured, but still snapping photos. |
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| Siesta time, and my huge tarp saves the day. Still hot as an oven under there. Marc, K-Bomb, and Busted Magic |
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| Verdant valley full of cows and green, heading to Warner Springs. Looked so welcoming after the deserts we've been in. Made me think of Rohan. |
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| If you say the incantation just right, you can fly to Canada, and it still counts. Sadly, Eagle Rock did not come alive for me, ready as I was. |
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| Historic St Thomas chapel in Warner Springs. |
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| Desert hills and clouds. |
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| One of the several water caches out there, filled by trail angels. These things are extremely helpful, this one was mostly empty. |
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| Sunrise heading into the San Jacinto Mountains from Cedar Springs |
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| Walking in a winter wonderland. But cold as hell. |
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| The San Jacinto Mountains, all in ice |
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| Rime ice |
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| Me in the San Jacintos. |
Idyllwild
So here we are in Idyllwild. Our zero in Warner Springs turned into two nearos, then into just one nearo and an 18 mile day out of town, so we're definitely taking a day off here. Feels good already. Been a tough few days, getting here. Feet have healed, so the walking has been a dream pretty much. Which means, with the constant pain gone, the inward journey can begin. Just you and your thoughs as you walk along rhythmically, almost hypnotically. It goes with the territory. Heavy stuff, though, about what I'm doing out here, what I'm living for, and all my failures and problems. It can be pretty draining, especially since there's no distractions out here: no books, internet, TV, work, etc. You're stuck with yourself out here. People always say they wish they could get out and do somthing like this, have adventures like me; lately it almost seems crazy to envy me. Do this long enough (and it is addicting) and you just end up a poor man with nobody and nothing but idle wandering.
The upshot is that I get to spend months at a time in some of the most beautiful places America has to offer, among awesome people, living a simple and pure life. I'll take it for now. And don't let the above fool you, I'm having a great time out here, and a journey like this would be worthless if all I got out of it is pretty pictures (which I hope to post later today). It's hard, physically, mentally and spiritually, but it's worth it on every level.
Getting used to the weather shifts out here has taken some getting used to. In the desert sections, the swings are incredible. Marc, a hiker who's sorta teamed up with K-Bomb and I, says "it's like a landscape in menopause, man!" And of course the elevations change everything. Monday we started getting up into higher country, and a storm moved in as well. The winds were fierce as all hell, and low clouds obscuring everyting. I hiked alone most of the day, as K-Bomb went to a cafe just off the trail for a few hours to warm up. I knew I'd never leave and have to go to town if I went, so I hiked on. Good hiking at first, but up on the ridge at around 7000' the weather fully sucked. There was rime ice coating every bush and tree, the wind chill was maybe 20 degrees, so strong it was blowing me around like a drunk man.
About 1 or 2 oclock, roughly 15 miles on I hiked down a mile long side trail to Cedar Springs for water. I was so cold that when I got there I just sat down on a log and felt miserable. For about a half hour, actually-- Moccasin doesn't like the cold. Finally I realized that that if I didn't move, if I didn't get some damn layers on, I was going to die. So I slowly got my insulated jacket out, my arms shooting in pain from the frigid muscles. Then got the tarp up, slowly, then finally the sleeping bag. Ate a couple dinners, and vegged out. Later Ninja and Drop and Roll came in, two girls who have been hiking around us since the beginning, so at least I had some good company for the evening. We were all asleep by about 6:30
Next day was hard too. Weather was better, but it was gonna be a 21 mile day mostly up hill, steeper climbs than any yet, and at elevations from 7000' to 8500'. Definitely felt that thinner air. I also didn't eat or drink enough, and was freakin exhausted for the afternoon; any little tiny uphill made me feel queasy and sick, but I finally made it (thanks to a short side trail that cut 0.8 miles off the PCT, saved me a big climb in the snow drifts. It was an astonishingly beautiful hike all day, though; the San Jacinto Mountains are some legit mountains, dramatically sheer and rocky, with real trees (huge pines). We all miss trees, a little.
Felt better after getting into town, thanks to a ride from some random trail angels, ate some lasagna and just hung out. Actually, our cabin had a TV and I sat watching The Office for a few hours before going to bed at 11. Way past my bedtime. Still up at the ass crack of dawn, though, standing outside the coffee shop waiting for it to open so I can get my fix. And now you're all caught up.
The upshot is that I get to spend months at a time in some of the most beautiful places America has to offer, among awesome people, living a simple and pure life. I'll take it for now. And don't let the above fool you, I'm having a great time out here, and a journey like this would be worthless if all I got out of it is pretty pictures (which I hope to post later today). It's hard, physically, mentally and spiritually, but it's worth it on every level.
Getting used to the weather shifts out here has taken some getting used to. In the desert sections, the swings are incredible. Marc, a hiker who's sorta teamed up with K-Bomb and I, says "it's like a landscape in menopause, man!" And of course the elevations change everything. Monday we started getting up into higher country, and a storm moved in as well. The winds were fierce as all hell, and low clouds obscuring everyting. I hiked alone most of the day, as K-Bomb went to a cafe just off the trail for a few hours to warm up. I knew I'd never leave and have to go to town if I went, so I hiked on. Good hiking at first, but up on the ridge at around 7000' the weather fully sucked. There was rime ice coating every bush and tree, the wind chill was maybe 20 degrees, so strong it was blowing me around like a drunk man.
About 1 or 2 oclock, roughly 15 miles on I hiked down a mile long side trail to Cedar Springs for water. I was so cold that when I got there I just sat down on a log and felt miserable. For about a half hour, actually-- Moccasin doesn't like the cold. Finally I realized that that if I didn't move, if I didn't get some damn layers on, I was going to die. So I slowly got my insulated jacket out, my arms shooting in pain from the frigid muscles. Then got the tarp up, slowly, then finally the sleeping bag. Ate a couple dinners, and vegged out. Later Ninja and Drop and Roll came in, two girls who have been hiking around us since the beginning, so at least I had some good company for the evening. We were all asleep by about 6:30
Next day was hard too. Weather was better, but it was gonna be a 21 mile day mostly up hill, steeper climbs than any yet, and at elevations from 7000' to 8500'. Definitely felt that thinner air. I also didn't eat or drink enough, and was freakin exhausted for the afternoon; any little tiny uphill made me feel queasy and sick, but I finally made it (thanks to a short side trail that cut 0.8 miles off the PCT, saved me a big climb in the snow drifts. It was an astonishingly beautiful hike all day, though; the San Jacinto Mountains are some legit mountains, dramatically sheer and rocky, with real trees (huge pines). We all miss trees, a little.
Felt better after getting into town, thanks to a ride from some random trail angels, ate some lasagna and just hung out. Actually, our cabin had a TV and I sat watching The Office for a few hours before going to bed at 11. Way past my bedtime. Still up at the ass crack of dawn, though, standing outside the coffee shop waiting for it to open so I can get my fix. And now you're all caught up.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Warner Springs
Hello from SoCal! K-Bomb and I have made it to Warner Springs, a bit past the 100 mile mark. We've also teamed up with a girl named Busted Magic and a guy named Captain Caveman (we're trying to get that name to stick, we'll see). Having a good ol' time out there on the trail.
I'll lay it all right out there: the AT was a great adventure and I wouldn't trade the experience or the memories for my life, but I have to admit the PCT is going to give it a run for the money. It's great out here, an entirely different experience. Actually I'm going to try not to compare the two trails at all, since the only things they really have in common are that they are both long distance trails, and the same basic crowd of people are out hiking on them. Beyond that, the concerns are largely different. Out here, water is it. It dominates, if not all thought, then at least most planning and conversations. And there's also the constant exposure to the everpresent sun, which one does not have in the AT's "long green tunnel."
So, to break things down. Things I like:
The grades. They really are much easier than the AT or most other hiking I've ever done. I can hike all day on these uphills, without having to stop for breath. This is huge, because often on these big mountains you're going uphill all day. I can even talk to people as I do so, at least on most of the climbs. For someone with a heart condition such as mine, this is a huge relief. It's one worry I had going into this, whether I could handle the uphills at the higher elevations. Of course, we haven't really hit the higher elevations yet, but my confidence is strong now. We started right off doing 20 mile days, unthinkable on the AT, where I did just 7 or 8 mile days for a week, only slowly increasing it.
Night hiking. This has been a real treat, though we've only done it once so far. It's been ridiculously hot the last couple days, hiting 101 degrees yesterday, and out in the desert there's no shade. So we've been setting up my tarp (glad I have the 8 x 10) for mid-day siestas, then hiking the late afternoons. The other day we actually hiked in the dark, which was the most fun I've had in ages. I opted not to use my headlamp, just relying on my heightened senses, and it worked out just fine. I was as alert as I've ever been, feeling at one with the night and the mountain. The trail seemed to glow, as if from the latent energy of all those who have gone before, but probably just from the mica in the sand catching the faint starlight. Will be even better when the moon grows a bit. It was only the tiniest sliver that night.
Trekking poles: I've talked a lot of shit about trekking poles in my day, but it turns out they're not so bad, not bad at all. I used them like antennae for the night hike, and otherwise they do add power to your stride, cushion on the downhills, and are great for keeping a rhythm going. Took a day to get used to them, but I've been converted for sure.
Things I don't like:
Blisters. As usual, my idiot feet have turned on me. Not so bad as on the AT; still, the walking has been a challenge. I have one on each foot, on the bottom at the base of each second toe. Also, I have blisters under the nails of both second toes, may lose at least one. I don't know why I seem to be putting so much pressure on that toe, must be how I walk. The pain of these has screwed up how I walk, especially on the left foot, turning it pigeon toed, as I walk on the outer edge of my foot. That in turn screws with my ankle tendons and up my calf, both of which are sore. I've had to really focus on rolling through to my toes on my steps, which hurts but is better than a real injury.
The sun. Alright, nice weather is good, but this desert section is going to be a challenge. The exposure is extreme, and constant. We're learning to deal with it, but it's intense and only going to get harder. I won't complain about this much, though, since I still remember those wet days in New England.
Heat rash. Won't go into details, but let's just say days worth of sweat (salt!) in sensitive areas is not fun.
We'll be in Idyllwild within a few days, where we plan to take a full day off. I'd write more but people are waiting.
I'll lay it all right out there: the AT was a great adventure and I wouldn't trade the experience or the memories for my life, but I have to admit the PCT is going to give it a run for the money. It's great out here, an entirely different experience. Actually I'm going to try not to compare the two trails at all, since the only things they really have in common are that they are both long distance trails, and the same basic crowd of people are out hiking on them. Beyond that, the concerns are largely different. Out here, water is it. It dominates, if not all thought, then at least most planning and conversations. And there's also the constant exposure to the everpresent sun, which one does not have in the AT's "long green tunnel."
So, to break things down. Things I like:
The grades. They really are much easier than the AT or most other hiking I've ever done. I can hike all day on these uphills, without having to stop for breath. This is huge, because often on these big mountains you're going uphill all day. I can even talk to people as I do so, at least on most of the climbs. For someone with a heart condition such as mine, this is a huge relief. It's one worry I had going into this, whether I could handle the uphills at the higher elevations. Of course, we haven't really hit the higher elevations yet, but my confidence is strong now. We started right off doing 20 mile days, unthinkable on the AT, where I did just 7 or 8 mile days for a week, only slowly increasing it.
Night hiking. This has been a real treat, though we've only done it once so far. It's been ridiculously hot the last couple days, hiting 101 degrees yesterday, and out in the desert there's no shade. So we've been setting up my tarp (glad I have the 8 x 10) for mid-day siestas, then hiking the late afternoons. The other day we actually hiked in the dark, which was the most fun I've had in ages. I opted not to use my headlamp, just relying on my heightened senses, and it worked out just fine. I was as alert as I've ever been, feeling at one with the night and the mountain. The trail seemed to glow, as if from the latent energy of all those who have gone before, but probably just from the mica in the sand catching the faint starlight. Will be even better when the moon grows a bit. It was only the tiniest sliver that night.
Trekking poles: I've talked a lot of shit about trekking poles in my day, but it turns out they're not so bad, not bad at all. I used them like antennae for the night hike, and otherwise they do add power to your stride, cushion on the downhills, and are great for keeping a rhythm going. Took a day to get used to them, but I've been converted for sure.
Things I don't like:
Blisters. As usual, my idiot feet have turned on me. Not so bad as on the AT; still, the walking has been a challenge. I have one on each foot, on the bottom at the base of each second toe. Also, I have blisters under the nails of both second toes, may lose at least one. I don't know why I seem to be putting so much pressure on that toe, must be how I walk. The pain of these has screwed up how I walk, especially on the left foot, turning it pigeon toed, as I walk on the outer edge of my foot. That in turn screws with my ankle tendons and up my calf, both of which are sore. I've had to really focus on rolling through to my toes on my steps, which hurts but is better than a real injury.
The sun. Alright, nice weather is good, but this desert section is going to be a challenge. The exposure is extreme, and constant. We're learning to deal with it, but it's intense and only going to get harder. I won't complain about this much, though, since I still remember those wet days in New England.
Heat rash. Won't go into details, but let's just say days worth of sweat (salt!) in sensitive areas is not fun.
We'll be in Idyllwild within a few days, where we plan to take a full day off. I'd write more but people are waiting.
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