I have an easy hitch back into town given to me by Ms. Claus (really. She volunteers every year and her husband is santa). She is very sweet and tells me she often takes hikers in but can't tonight. I caught her as she was dropping off three Italian hikers who she had hosted and was very touched and a bit amused to see her actually tearing up as she paused to watch them walk away. She beeped her horn farewell and sniffed to me "Oh, I hate goodbyes". Very adorable.
I luck out and the very friendly guy at the coffee shop offers me his couch after I ask if he is on couchsurfing or knows of anyone in town who is. He had been incredibly nice to Maya and I yesterday, even giving us our coffee on the house. I wanted to avoid the hostel because I dislike paying to share space. I was going to cave and get a hotel room but feel fortunate to have a free couch instead. Makes me feel much less guilty about the money spent on food while in town.
Instead of icing my knee I buy thrift store ski poles for five dollars and waste hours at the library updating this journal. I really should have iced more. I do carry a rapidly melting bag of ice with me as I run these errands and try to squeeze some rehab icing time in as I go.
It was really tough hitching from the thrift store to the library but a guy my age who was born in Big Bear and is studying to become a firefighter makes a u-turn and picks me up. A woman at the library learns of how I lost my poles and offers to make a bright colored poster to leave in town in hopes that the driver will see it and be able to return my poles. I've also successfully walked up to people on the street and gotten rides, which is a good sign of a friendly town.
I spend my evening being spoiled by Adam and his girlfriend - Adam hadn't even heard of the Pacific Crest trail before yesterday when he encountered Maya and I but he is taking to the role of trail angel amazingly well! He is a great host and even brings me a beer to enjoy in the shower. He and his adorable girlfriend ask me lots of questions about the hike, and I curl up on the couch to pass out contentedly as they head out to have a few drinks. He is so considerate he even sends me a text reminding me to take my clothes out of the dryer, and gives me a small ipod as a gift! In spite of the staring tourists, Big Bear has been full of friendly, kind people who have gone out of their way for me. If only the amenities were spaced just a little closer toegther!
I said goodbye to the cousins and Maya this morning. I still feel a bit sad but know it was the right decision. I hope I'll see them again on trail, or maybe even after the trail.
The time I spent with them was the first time I consistently didn't feel lonely in a very long time.
I'm hoping to have Brian, Cameron & Tim catch up, and I'm looking forward to seeing what the trail brings me to in the future.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
day 18
Mile 259 - hwy 18 - Doble Cmp
In the morning we leave before P-Track wakes up and I run over and say goodbye feeling guilty at rushing off, but fairly certain he doesn't mind. We talked yesterday about how people move in and out of hiker's lives. I hope I'll see him again, though. He was really fun.
We hike down to the highway in just a few hours, greeted by roadside soada courtesy of motel-6 and an almost instant hitch (both making for a great start to the morning). We stop in Big Bear City to peek at the hostel's free hiker box (it's pretty barren) and then get another hitch into Big Bear Lake, a few miles further down. The day is another stretch of time eaten up by errands and agonizing over groceries and hours spent online emailing and journalling. The cousins of course efficiently finish much sooner and wait for Maya and I to finish. We feel guilty, but re-supplying is hard - so many decisions over what to pack, what we will want to eat, how much, if it will last. We both buy too much and our packs are heavy. 3 of us now sport matching knee braces newly purchased. I don't have high hopes that this will solve anything.
I learn that nobody seems inclined to zero at the hot springs that are 30 miles down the trail, except me. I feel a bit disheartened. I don't like rushing, and I am beginning to feel rushed. I still am having trouble accepting the fact that my body can't do the mileage teh cousins are doing. I find it interesting that 3 of us are having knee issues, yet I am the only one who thinks rest is necessary. And I don't consider a 15 mile day rest. I'm beginning to feel a lot of guilt and pressure, all self-imposed.
We hitch out on a tricky stretch of busy road and luck out with our hitch. As we get out, I am pre-occupied with teasing Maya/Focus about how she leaves behind and get this - I accidentally leave my second most expensive piece of gear in the trunk of the car I hitched in. My gossamer gear trekking poles are now speeding away in the car of a man I only know the first name of. I am screwed. I feel angry and frustrated and before I can help myself I swear. I tell everyone else to leave and not wait for me, in spite of the fact that we have a delicious group dinner planned. They walk off.
I cry.
Finally, after being consoled by a stranger who was waiting by the road for his wife (he offered me cookies) I post a sign with my contact info and hike on. It takes two miles to really fully calm down.
I apologize to everyone but nobody minds my outburst, which was fully aimed at myself, although also full of frustrations with the difficulties as travelling as a group. We decide to hike two more days together, to the Hot Springs, at my pace but in the middle of the night I decide it is best if I turn around and hike the 2 miles back to the road and spend the night in town by myself. I feel sad but think it is best. I need rest.
In the morning we leave before P-Track wakes up and I run over and say goodbye feeling guilty at rushing off, but fairly certain he doesn't mind. We talked yesterday about how people move in and out of hiker's lives. I hope I'll see him again, though. He was really fun.
We hike down to the highway in just a few hours, greeted by roadside soada courtesy of motel-6 and an almost instant hitch (both making for a great start to the morning). We stop in Big Bear City to peek at the hostel's free hiker box (it's pretty barren) and then get another hitch into Big Bear Lake, a few miles further down. The day is another stretch of time eaten up by errands and agonizing over groceries and hours spent online emailing and journalling. The cousins of course efficiently finish much sooner and wait for Maya and I to finish. We feel guilty, but re-supplying is hard - so many decisions over what to pack, what we will want to eat, how much, if it will last. We both buy too much and our packs are heavy. 3 of us now sport matching knee braces newly purchased. I don't have high hopes that this will solve anything.
I learn that nobody seems inclined to zero at the hot springs that are 30 miles down the trail, except me. I feel a bit disheartened. I don't like rushing, and I am beginning to feel rushed. I still am having trouble accepting the fact that my body can't do the mileage teh cousins are doing. I find it interesting that 3 of us are having knee issues, yet I am the only one who thinks rest is necessary. And I don't consider a 15 mile day rest. I'm beginning to feel a lot of guilt and pressure, all self-imposed.
We hitch out on a tricky stretch of busy road and luck out with our hitch. As we get out, I am pre-occupied with teasing Maya/Focus about how she leaves behind and get this - I accidentally leave my second most expensive piece of gear in the trunk of the car I hitched in. My gossamer gear trekking poles are now speeding away in the car of a man I only know the first name of. I am screwed. I feel angry and frustrated and before I can help myself I swear. I tell everyone else to leave and not wait for me, in spite of the fact that we have a delicious group dinner planned. They walk off.
I cry.
Finally, after being consoled by a stranger who was waiting by the road for his wife (he offered me cookies) I post a sign with my contact info and hike on. It takes two miles to really fully calm down.
I apologize to everyone but nobody minds my outburst, which was fully aimed at myself, although also full of frustrations with the difficulties as travelling as a group. We decide to hike two more days together, to the Hot Springs, at my pace but in the middle of the night I decide it is best if I turn around and hike the 2 miles back to the road and spend the night in town by myself. I feel sad but think it is best. I need rest.
Day 17
Mission Camp - mile 259
After coercing the cousins into cuddling some warmth into me they depart and I linger at camp with P-track. We have an enjoyable morning where we get to know each other over shared coffee and breakfast. I get crumbs all over his gear, he forgives me, and we wind up hiking together all day. He makes me laugh often and we get along great. We hike at a decent but slower pace and it's nice to be around company. The trail passes by caged stunt animals (lions and tigers and bears - seriously!) which is a bit odd and briefly depressing.
We take a 3 or 4 hour long lunch and enjoy ourselves thoroughly. I make a killer dinner of Annie's mac & cheese plus broccoli and garlic, preparing it now to enjoy as dinner later. After moving on from our break we discover, of all things, a small sofa plopped down by the trail with a cooler of mangos. We want to kick ourselves. The two of us squatted in dirt and pebbles for hours while upholstered comfort lay just a mile away. It's been placed there as an advertisement of sorts for a hiker-friendly hostel in Big Bear. This whole stretch with the past few towns has had that - water and soda at various road crossing places there by hostels and hotels competing for our business.
When we reach the next campsite we are informed by everyone there (who had passed us throughout the day as we lazed about) that the cousins and Maya had lingered for hours, right up until 6, and were only going about 3 more miles. I feel kind of touched, knowing that they definitely waited longer for me. I ask P-track if he is willing to hike on at a much faster pace and he says yes. I tell him I'd like to be able to say goodbye to everyone, and it's the truth. I am slowly acknowledging that I just can't do back to back 20 mile days right now. In fact, I'm getting really worried that it may be too late.
Life on the trail consists of an ebb and flow of people moving in and out of your life as you walk at varying paces but I keep wishing I could stay with this group. We catch them setting up just as the sun sets and I happily move into the group once again, knowing deep down it won't be for much longer
After coercing the cousins into cuddling some warmth into me they depart and I linger at camp with P-track. We have an enjoyable morning where we get to know each other over shared coffee and breakfast. I get crumbs all over his gear, he forgives me, and we wind up hiking together all day. He makes me laugh often and we get along great. We hike at a decent but slower pace and it's nice to be around company. The trail passes by caged stunt animals (lions and tigers and bears - seriously!) which is a bit odd and briefly depressing.
We take a 3 or 4 hour long lunch and enjoy ourselves thoroughly. I make a killer dinner of Annie's mac & cheese plus broccoli and garlic, preparing it now to enjoy as dinner later. After moving on from our break we discover, of all things, a small sofa plopped down by the trail with a cooler of mangos. We want to kick ourselves. The two of us squatted in dirt and pebbles for hours while upholstered comfort lay just a mile away. It's been placed there as an advertisement of sorts for a hiker-friendly hostel in Big Bear. This whole stretch with the past few towns has had that - water and soda at various road crossing places there by hostels and hotels competing for our business.
When we reach the next campsite we are informed by everyone there (who had passed us throughout the day as we lazed about) that the cousins and Maya had lingered for hours, right up until 6, and were only going about 3 more miles. I feel kind of touched, knowing that they definitely waited longer for me. I ask P-track if he is willing to hike on at a much faster pace and he says yes. I tell him I'd like to be able to say goodbye to everyone, and it's the truth. I am slowly acknowledging that I just can't do back to back 20 mile days right now. In fact, I'm getting really worried that it may be too late.
Life on the trail consists of an ebb and flow of people moving in and out of your life as you walk at varying paces but I keep wishing I could stay with this group. We catch them setting up just as the sun sets and I happily move into the group once again, knowing deep down it won't be for much longer
Day 16
Whitewater Preserve - Mission Camp
My knee has been feeling abused and neglected and I fully realize this today. I hike very slowly, attempting to be conscious of how it feels and where my feet land. I cross streams over 20 times today, yet am underhydrated because I don't trust the source (it's a fast flowing larger creek, but speckled with lots of horse droppings and algae). I get caught washing up with my pants down by some hikers off in the distance but luckily they seem to not notice (I hope) and never catch up to me in spite of my snail's pace. It is a long and lonely desert day, and I resort to dipping my shirt in each stream that I cross to cool off. I feel very lonely and eager to catch up with everyone, which I dislike. The sole person I interact with is a southbound weekender, and we exchange only a sentence or two. I try not to anticipate catching my friends on their now tradition of siesta break. I have a feeling I am so slow today I will never catch them, even with their habit of resting for hours. I have trouble keeping track of the stream crossings and reading the map, and with my pace so slow I have no idea where I am. The one clearly labelled sign (designating a wilderness boundary), where I think I know where I am, I later discover is not what it appears to be mileage-wise on the map. I am not overly pleased with Half-Mile's maps today.
I do catch the cousins and Focus at the end of the day, on the verge of getting ready to leave. They kindly let me make dinner before we all head off together. The cousins are much faster than Maya (Focus) and I. We have to weave through patches of poodle dog bush, which is a foolish name for something that causes a poison oak type reaction, with nasty lingering blisters. The only sign warning us is a hand made one by a fellow hiker on a small piece of bark. It is a plant that should be in a Dr. Seuss illustration, just like much of the desert vegetation. Our caution slows us down but thankfully after a while it dissipates, and hopefully the look-alike plant crowding the trail the rest of the way is just that - a look-alike. Otherwise we are all screwed.
The highlight of this hike is a cliff and an enormous pine tree. We push up into higher elevation and a Princess Bride type forest. We pause at mile 18 by a stream and tall trees and I so want to stop here. Nobody else seems inclined so I ignore my misgivings and push on for two more miles. At dusk we end up at Mission Camp, a tentsite by a dirtroad that is at least 8,000 feet in elevation. I am quiet, upset with myself for ignoring my body and needing this company too much, relying too heavily on it, being too slow, making people wait on me. I go do yoga by myself and come back to a group hug, which cheers me up considerably.I freeze all night and discover in the morning that our water actually did freeze.
My knee has been feeling abused and neglected and I fully realize this today. I hike very slowly, attempting to be conscious of how it feels and where my feet land. I cross streams over 20 times today, yet am underhydrated because I don't trust the source (it's a fast flowing larger creek, but speckled with lots of horse droppings and algae). I get caught washing up with my pants down by some hikers off in the distance but luckily they seem to not notice (I hope) and never catch up to me in spite of my snail's pace. It is a long and lonely desert day, and I resort to dipping my shirt in each stream that I cross to cool off. I feel very lonely and eager to catch up with everyone, which I dislike. The sole person I interact with is a southbound weekender, and we exchange only a sentence or two. I try not to anticipate catching my friends on their now tradition of siesta break. I have a feeling I am so slow today I will never catch them, even with their habit of resting for hours. I have trouble keeping track of the stream crossings and reading the map, and with my pace so slow I have no idea where I am. The one clearly labelled sign (designating a wilderness boundary), where I think I know where I am, I later discover is not what it appears to be mileage-wise on the map. I am not overly pleased with Half-Mile's maps today.
I do catch the cousins and Focus at the end of the day, on the verge of getting ready to leave. They kindly let me make dinner before we all head off together. The cousins are much faster than Maya (Focus) and I. We have to weave through patches of poodle dog bush, which is a foolish name for something that causes a poison oak type reaction, with nasty lingering blisters. The only sign warning us is a hand made one by a fellow hiker on a small piece of bark. It is a plant that should be in a Dr. Seuss illustration, just like much of the desert vegetation. Our caution slows us down but thankfully after a while it dissipates, and hopefully the look-alike plant crowding the trail the rest of the way is just that - a look-alike. Otherwise we are all screwed.
The highlight of this hike is a cliff and an enormous pine tree. We push up into higher elevation and a Princess Bride type forest. We pause at mile 18 by a stream and tall trees and I so want to stop here. Nobody else seems inclined so I ignore my misgivings and push on for two more miles. At dusk we end up at Mission Camp, a tentsite by a dirtroad that is at least 8,000 feet in elevation. I am quiet, upset with myself for ignoring my body and needing this company too much, relying too heavily on it, being too slow, making people wait on me. I go do yoga by myself and come back to a group hug, which cheers me up considerably.I freeze all night and discover in the morning that our water actually did freeze.
Day 15
Mile 200 - Whitewater Preserve
I pack quickly and begin to walk around 6:30, hoping to beat the heat to no avail. The switchbacks here are tortuous and ludicrous, and I briefly fantasize over punishments I would like to visit on the designer. I also wish I had a copy of Desert Solitaire from the used bookstore in Idyllwild. I then resolve to have no regrets and mindlessly press onwards, my one goal to reach water and shade as quickly as possible. I spot my first sacred datura (jimson weed) and admire its blooms.
After catching the cousins and Focus at a water faucet in the middle of the desert foothills, I linger until 9 am, the last to leave the shade. I make good time over a very flat stretch of road walk and then stretches of loose sand with strong winds gusting to 30-40 mph. No wonder there are wind farms dotting the hills. The 3 mph pace would be much faster without wind and sand, but I'm happy with that as it is. My knee is not fond of the terrain, most likely due to yesterday's abuse.
I arrive at an underpass to discover unexpected trail magic: bananas, oranges, cookies, and cold soda. It's heavenly. I lounge under the bridge feeling very happy. The banana almost makes me forget my cravings for smoothies. I move over a few sections of bridge to pee only to stand up and realize a truck is barrelling over the sand straight towards me. Whoops. It's security for the construction or windfarm or desert water supply, I'm not really sure what. All I know is that they may have gotten the hobo special: pants-less dirty girl peeing under a bridge.
It's hot but my early morning coffee combined with soda and a good shuffle of music on the ipod have me moving fast. I don't stop in at the trail angel's house a bit off trail - I already had some great trail magic and I am unsure as to whether or not they are a hostel. Sometimes the map and guidebook information is a little vague. I do stop for lunch at the windfarm's office building, as they have a sign that promises shade and cold water. The workers are extremely friendly and welcoming, one even brings out a bottled water for me. I hang around until about 1 and then head off into steep desert hills. These are the most winding switchbacks yet, but I am enjoying the changes in the landscape around me and walk on unbothered by the tedium of the trail. Other hikers have clearly been more annoyed, with lots of bootleg trail jumping switchbacks and creating erosion.
I reach the trail junction and head a half mile off trail to the Whitewater Preserve, where free camping and a wading pool beckons. I have been staring at a gray gravelled strand from on high for hours now, praying it really is water. It is. And it's incredible. Before we even both to check in at the ranger station Focus and I rush straight towards the creek. A cliff veers up ahead jutting straight up from the rushing water and sandstone hills are our backdrop. We plop down fully clothed in the perfect temperature water and sigh contentedly. The cousins are nowhere to be seen and we wonder why. When we leave the water around 4 we discover they were lounging for hours besides a man-made pool that was just as lovely as the water we had been in - a tiny waterfall pounded a massage into us and smooth rocks provided areas to nap. We sign in at the ranger station and pore over a plant guidebook that they have compiled as the employees offer us their tea and coffee and fresh mint and pommelos. Everyone is kind and friendly, camping is free for thru-hikers, and this is truly the best day ever, in spite of the earlier heat. Of course, we have been calling each day the best day ever for days now. Except maybe Fuller Ridge!
We have been told there are boyscouts camping here tonight and so we wander around plotting how to ask for their leftover food. Instead we hear a call "Hey, thru-hikers!" It turns out to be Lake2lake and Warner Springs Monty, former thru-hikerswho had provided some of the trail magic at the underpass we had enjoyed earlier. They have a weekend of trail magic planned, feeding hikers each night, and we are their very first recipients. We feast on roast beef and turkey sandwiches, fried chicken, coleslaw, potato salad, chips and salsa, carrots and celery, and amazing brownies made by Lake2lake. The only downside to the evening is when I realize in the excitement of identifying flowers (yes, excitement) I forgot my maps in the now locked ranger building. I luck out when an employee returns at dusk and lets me in to find them. We watch the sun set, swallows and bats swooping, and do yoga in the parking lot with a full moon rising above cliffs that wild goats wander on. We fall asleep listening to a stream burble, and the distant boyscouts are surprisingly quiet, which makes for another perfect end to the day.
I pack quickly and begin to walk around 6:30, hoping to beat the heat to no avail. The switchbacks here are tortuous and ludicrous, and I briefly fantasize over punishments I would like to visit on the designer. I also wish I had a copy of Desert Solitaire from the used bookstore in Idyllwild. I then resolve to have no regrets and mindlessly press onwards, my one goal to reach water and shade as quickly as possible. I spot my first sacred datura (jimson weed) and admire its blooms.
After catching the cousins and Focus at a water faucet in the middle of the desert foothills, I linger until 9 am, the last to leave the shade. I make good time over a very flat stretch of road walk and then stretches of loose sand with strong winds gusting to 30-40 mph. No wonder there are wind farms dotting the hills. The 3 mph pace would be much faster without wind and sand, but I'm happy with that as it is. My knee is not fond of the terrain, most likely due to yesterday's abuse.
I arrive at an underpass to discover unexpected trail magic: bananas, oranges, cookies, and cold soda. It's heavenly. I lounge under the bridge feeling very happy. The banana almost makes me forget my cravings for smoothies. I move over a few sections of bridge to pee only to stand up and realize a truck is barrelling over the sand straight towards me. Whoops. It's security for the construction or windfarm or desert water supply, I'm not really sure what. All I know is that they may have gotten the hobo special: pants-less dirty girl peeing under a bridge.
It's hot but my early morning coffee combined with soda and a good shuffle of music on the ipod have me moving fast. I don't stop in at the trail angel's house a bit off trail - I already had some great trail magic and I am unsure as to whether or not they are a hostel. Sometimes the map and guidebook information is a little vague. I do stop for lunch at the windfarm's office building, as they have a sign that promises shade and cold water. The workers are extremely friendly and welcoming, one even brings out a bottled water for me. I hang around until about 1 and then head off into steep desert hills. These are the most winding switchbacks yet, but I am enjoying the changes in the landscape around me and walk on unbothered by the tedium of the trail. Other hikers have clearly been more annoyed, with lots of bootleg trail jumping switchbacks and creating erosion.
I reach the trail junction and head a half mile off trail to the Whitewater Preserve, where free camping and a wading pool beckons. I have been staring at a gray gravelled strand from on high for hours now, praying it really is water. It is. And it's incredible. Before we even both to check in at the ranger station Focus and I rush straight towards the creek. A cliff veers up ahead jutting straight up from the rushing water and sandstone hills are our backdrop. We plop down fully clothed in the perfect temperature water and sigh contentedly. The cousins are nowhere to be seen and we wonder why. When we leave the water around 4 we discover they were lounging for hours besides a man-made pool that was just as lovely as the water we had been in - a tiny waterfall pounded a massage into us and smooth rocks provided areas to nap. We sign in at the ranger station and pore over a plant guidebook that they have compiled as the employees offer us their tea and coffee and fresh mint and pommelos. Everyone is kind and friendly, camping is free for thru-hikers, and this is truly the best day ever, in spite of the earlier heat. Of course, we have been calling each day the best day ever for days now. Except maybe Fuller Ridge!
We have been told there are boyscouts camping here tonight and so we wander around plotting how to ask for their leftover food. Instead we hear a call "Hey, thru-hikers!" It turns out to be Lake2lake and Warner Springs Monty, former thru-hikerswho had provided some of the trail magic at the underpass we had enjoyed earlier. They have a weekend of trail magic planned, feeding hikers each night, and we are their very first recipients. We feast on roast beef and turkey sandwiches, fried chicken, coleslaw, potato salad, chips and salsa, carrots and celery, and amazing brownies made by Lake2lake. The only downside to the evening is when I realize in the excitement of identifying flowers (yes, excitement) I forgot my maps in the now locked ranger building. I luck out when an employee returns at dusk and lets me in to find them. We watch the sun set, swallows and bats swooping, and do yoga in the parking lot with a full moon rising above cliffs that wild goats wander on. We fall asleep listening to a stream burble, and the distant boyscouts are surprisingly quiet, which makes for another perfect end to the day.
Day 14
Saddle Junction - mile 200
After watching the sunrise I am once again the dawdler and am last to depart. I like to eat before walking, while everyone else quickly stuffs everything into packs and heads out. And of course, after eating comes a very urgent bathroom break, like clockwork.
The snow here is a bit confusing and since I am zoning out just following footprints I end up having to backtrack, but only for a minute or two. Today will be another long day, with Fuller Ridge ahead of me to traverse. I feel pretty good about the day and my pace and I eat a delicious almond scone from the Idyllwild bakery and hike on, only to end up walking in a circle back to a trail junction, losing at least a half hour, and I don't even have the excuse of snow in this section. I think I accidentally missed a switchback, but am not sure. Annoyed, I hike on. There is a confusing area by a downed tree where another hiker and I both hesitate. We then have to puzzle out footprints in the snow for a few miles, but while the trail blazes are non-existent, it isn't too terrible to puzzle out. Fuller Ridge does indeed still have snow, but is far less treacherous than I had imagined. I post-hole a few times and slip and slide around, knowing that this is hard on my knees, but pushing onwards.
Focus and I meet up at a road crossing and I apologize for the delays in my arrival. I know she has no water treatment right now and my getting misdirected means she had to hang around waiting. We press on and encounter the cousins enjoying a leisurely siesta. I enjoy about an hour myself and then am ready to move on, knowing how much faster than I they are. We all agree to meet at mile 200, and camp in that vicinity. We have 10 miles of continuous downhill ahead of us.
Focus and I are hiking fast and fly past a really nice campsite that is much too early on. However as we press on we realize that the trail is growing worse and worse - seriously overgrown thorny bushes engulf us, and the trail slopes off into steep rocky valleys with no tent space at all. We push on until just before dark when Focus declares that she will just sleep on the trail. I am being stubborn and decide to push on, nighthiking to mile 200. I am tired and my knee is nagging at me, so of course I scuff through sand and trip on a rock, scraping my knee bloody. At least now I'll have scabs on both sides for a more balanced aesthetic of abuse. The ground is hard and punishing and I am second-guessing myself. I step over a misinformed celebratory 200 formed of rocks on the trail, made by a previous hiker who mis-judged mileage and snort aloud a tired laugh. I give up right before mile 200, which is a seasonal water source that I hoped would prove flat. It isn't.
I find a nice ledge of rock right beside the trail, eat dinner and watch the sunset feeling guilty at leaving Focus. The cousins never caught up. I wonder if everyone is ok. I realize this ledge has clearly sheltered a creature besides me as once again I am sitting in a nest of turds. I watch a helicopter fly over the foothills of San Jacinto shining a spotlight and feel unnerved. I decide to drop my pack and walk back to check on Focus (secretly hoping she and the cousins are already night-hiking towards me as I backtrack). This means a total of almost two more miles of walking round trip, as she is 25 minutes back and uphill, and with my pack left behind I have to return. I discover her and the cousins cozily ensconced on the trail itself and with my conscience absolved I nighthike back to my pack with only the light of the moon to guide me, watching the helicopter, visions of manhunts dancing through my mind. I wonder what to do if the spotlight shines on me. Will there be a loudspeaker commanding "DROP YOUR HIKING POLES!"? I bed down next to my rocky ledge and sleep soundly. I wake to the cousins strolling by at 6 am and scramble up to start another day. At least I made coffee the night before. Starbucks instant is definitely all that is getting me through the desert.
After watching the sunrise I am once again the dawdler and am last to depart. I like to eat before walking, while everyone else quickly stuffs everything into packs and heads out. And of course, after eating comes a very urgent bathroom break, like clockwork.
The snow here is a bit confusing and since I am zoning out just following footprints I end up having to backtrack, but only for a minute or two. Today will be another long day, with Fuller Ridge ahead of me to traverse. I feel pretty good about the day and my pace and I eat a delicious almond scone from the Idyllwild bakery and hike on, only to end up walking in a circle back to a trail junction, losing at least a half hour, and I don't even have the excuse of snow in this section. I think I accidentally missed a switchback, but am not sure. Annoyed, I hike on. There is a confusing area by a downed tree where another hiker and I both hesitate. We then have to puzzle out footprints in the snow for a few miles, but while the trail blazes are non-existent, it isn't too terrible to puzzle out. Fuller Ridge does indeed still have snow, but is far less treacherous than I had imagined. I post-hole a few times and slip and slide around, knowing that this is hard on my knees, but pushing onwards.
Focus and I meet up at a road crossing and I apologize for the delays in my arrival. I know she has no water treatment right now and my getting misdirected means she had to hang around waiting. We press on and encounter the cousins enjoying a leisurely siesta. I enjoy about an hour myself and then am ready to move on, knowing how much faster than I they are. We all agree to meet at mile 200, and camp in that vicinity. We have 10 miles of continuous downhill ahead of us.
Focus and I are hiking fast and fly past a really nice campsite that is much too early on. However as we press on we realize that the trail is growing worse and worse - seriously overgrown thorny bushes engulf us, and the trail slopes off into steep rocky valleys with no tent space at all. We push on until just before dark when Focus declares that she will just sleep on the trail. I am being stubborn and decide to push on, nighthiking to mile 200. I am tired and my knee is nagging at me, so of course I scuff through sand and trip on a rock, scraping my knee bloody. At least now I'll have scabs on both sides for a more balanced aesthetic of abuse. The ground is hard and punishing and I am second-guessing myself. I step over a misinformed celebratory 200 formed of rocks on the trail, made by a previous hiker who mis-judged mileage and snort aloud a tired laugh. I give up right before mile 200, which is a seasonal water source that I hoped would prove flat. It isn't.
I find a nice ledge of rock right beside the trail, eat dinner and watch the sunset feeling guilty at leaving Focus. The cousins never caught up. I wonder if everyone is ok. I realize this ledge has clearly sheltered a creature besides me as once again I am sitting in a nest of turds. I watch a helicopter fly over the foothills of San Jacinto shining a spotlight and feel unnerved. I decide to drop my pack and walk back to check on Focus (secretly hoping she and the cousins are already night-hiking towards me as I backtrack). This means a total of almost two more miles of walking round trip, as she is 25 minutes back and uphill, and with my pack left behind I have to return. I discover her and the cousins cozily ensconced on the trail itself and with my conscience absolved I nighthike back to my pack with only the light of the moon to guide me, watching the helicopter, visions of manhunts dancing through my mind. I wonder what to do if the spotlight shines on me. Will there be a loudspeaker commanding "DROP YOUR HIKING POLES!"? I bed down next to my rocky ledge and sleep soundly. I wake to the cousins strolling by at 6 am and scramble up to start another day. At least I made coffee the night before. Starbucks instant is definitely all that is getting me through the desert.
Day 13
mile 175? - Idyllwild - Saddle Junction.
After waking up early we pick our way through some snow banks without any problems and are on our way into town with just a handful of miles to go. We stop and talk to Keala and P-Track, who tented at the watersource a few miles ahead of us. Keala is in flipflops and I wonder how that will work out when she hits bigger areas of snow. She is from Hawaii and is freezing. I can sympathize. My poor abused 35 degree bag seems to be on its last legs, as is my jacket. I wouldn't call myself the warmest hiker out there right now either.
We rush down to Idyllwild and Bobcat charms a ride out of a travelling salesman who likes to do his paperwork in the parking lot of the park. The town is small, the bakery delicious, the people friendly, and there is a health food store and smoothies. I kind of wish I was staying, not rushing in to resupply and then heading back to the trail, but I also don't really feel a strong desire for a shower or bed. The Bobcat decides to slow down, rest her feet and stay in town. Focus and I arrange to meet the cousins back at Saddle Junction. We spend about 6 hours in town running errands: post office, grocery store, health food store, food for us, bakery, coffee shop, etc. It's ridiculous how easily time gets eaten up. We get a hitch out of town fairly easily but Focus's water filter falls out of her pack in the car and she realizes this as our ride drives away. She handles it pretty well and plans to order a new one tomorrow to be mailed ahead.
We meet the cousins and feast on kale, tomato, garlic, mozzarella salad with dressing from the natural food restaurant. It's amazing. Dessert is ginger snap cookies. (The appetizer was tortilla chips with butter - ha) We plan to nighthike for a bit after eating but not five minutes after shouldering our packs, I spy an incredible sunset and we veer straight towards it. We watch as the most beautiful sunset to date unfolds before us on our perch on a rocky cliff and then all sleep under the branching arms of a pine tree together, before waking to watch the sunrise from the opposite direction.
I am the luckiest girl in the world.
After waking up early we pick our way through some snow banks without any problems and are on our way into town with just a handful of miles to go. We stop and talk to Keala and P-Track, who tented at the watersource a few miles ahead of us. Keala is in flipflops and I wonder how that will work out when she hits bigger areas of snow. She is from Hawaii and is freezing. I can sympathize. My poor abused 35 degree bag seems to be on its last legs, as is my jacket. I wouldn't call myself the warmest hiker out there right now either.
We rush down to Idyllwild and Bobcat charms a ride out of a travelling salesman who likes to do his paperwork in the parking lot of the park. The town is small, the bakery delicious, the people friendly, and there is a health food store and smoothies. I kind of wish I was staying, not rushing in to resupply and then heading back to the trail, but I also don't really feel a strong desire for a shower or bed. The Bobcat decides to slow down, rest her feet and stay in town. Focus and I arrange to meet the cousins back at Saddle Junction. We spend about 6 hours in town running errands: post office, grocery store, health food store, food for us, bakery, coffee shop, etc. It's ridiculous how easily time gets eaten up. We get a hitch out of town fairly easily but Focus's water filter falls out of her pack in the car and she realizes this as our ride drives away. She handles it pretty well and plans to order a new one tomorrow to be mailed ahead.
We meet the cousins and feast on kale, tomato, garlic, mozzarella salad with dressing from the natural food restaurant. It's amazing. Dessert is ginger snap cookies. (The appetizer was tortilla chips with butter - ha) We plan to nighthike for a bit after eating but not five minutes after shouldering our packs, I spy an incredible sunset and we veer straight towards it. We watch as the most beautiful sunset to date unfolds before us on our perch on a rocky cliff and then all sleep under the branching arms of a pine tree together, before waking to watch the sunrise from the opposite direction.
I am the luckiest girl in the world.
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