The PCT, the trail itself, is wildly varied in its quality and composition. For miles and miles it will be a perfect 10% grade, winding endlessly up and down hills, in and out of ridges and valleys, but always at a perfect grade. The tread is perfect, devoid of stones and roots, just coarse grained sand or fine gravel without a rock step up or step down, always about 3 feet wide. One can just stride out and enjoy the scenery without having to constantly watch where ones feet are being placed.
Yet, other parts of the trail go wildly up and down for no apparent reason, and with no respect for 10%. In the space of 300 yards it will climb sharply up 50', then drop 75' often over large boulder or rocks with no evidence of a trail tread. Today, I had to help Sally down a 3' vertical rock drop that was supposed to be the trail.
Some parts resemble a river bed more than a trail. Large loose stones exposed by water running right down the trail leave no evidence of a tread. These areas play heck with Sally's ankle. Sometimes the tread is so eroded that it slopes downhill at nearly the angle of the hill it is traversing so that walking the trail is really sidehilling the slope, ankles twisted to keep feet flat on the ground.
At times the trail is completely overgrown with brush such that the tread is not visible and one must use "Foot Braille"to find one's way along the trail. Often this brush is of the desert variety, meaning it is spiny and thorny, scratching exposed legs and arms. When we encounter areas like these I question the moniker "National Scenic Trail". It seems with a byline like that it should be better maintained.
The biggest obstacle on the trail are fallen trees, which are prevalent in the areas burned by fire. Most of these trees have been down so long there are "use" trails around them that are more pronounced than the actual trail it blocks, which might be overgrown with grass or brush from lack of use. Those trees that have fallen across the trail on steep hillsides must be clambered over or ducked under. If they are charred or burned the trick is to avoid getting yourself covered in charcoal as you negotiate them.
Another terrifying aspect of the trail for those with allergic reactions like myself are the bees. The flowers are in full bloom all along the trail (a marvelous and beautiful site) and many of the bushes that overhang the trail are thick with bees. I will take wide side trips off the trail to avoid these bee loaded bushes.
On our first day on the trail back in April we encountered a couple of huge black bees, bigger than I have ever seen before. Their bodies are more than an inch long and 1/2 to 3/4" in diameter. When they fly their buzzing noise is amazingly loud.
Today, we encountered hives of these bees we had to pass along the trail. They swarm around their nests located in rotten logs in massive chaotic clouds and buzz by you menacingly as you pass. I ran past each, hoping not to get stung. About a mile farther down the trail we encountered a swarm of regular sized bees hovering above the trail, so again we circled wide off the trail to avoid it.
I point out these obstacles only to record the challenges that we occasionally face. The fallen trees are common, the brush not so much, the bees are rare but they get your attention.
I encountered another obstacle on the trail today, that although invisible, turned out to be the most deadly obstacle to date. Bugs of the microscopic size.
About 3 in the afternoon my stomach started to growl. We came to a stream crossing. Sally had fallen into the same stream on a slippery rock soaking herself but encountering no injuries earlier in the day, so I was very attentive to helping her in subsequent crossings, ferrying mine and her pack across before returning to help her across. I got the packs across but before I could return for her I had to make an emergency dash into the bushes. With business taken care of I returned for her and we continued. About a mile up the trail my stomach again caused me concern and another emergency run to the bushes was needed. To avoid the details and getting gross lets just say liquid best describes the experience.
Sally talked me into taking a few Imodium to settle my stomach, and it worked to get me the next 4 miles down the trail to our destination, the bridge over Deep Creek. We rolled into camp about 7:30, set up the tent and cooked dinner by 9:00 and were asleep by 9:30, both very tired from the day's hiking.
We were camped on a small flat area squeezed between the river and the steep, wooded bank behind us. There were four other tents in the area. It is a popular destination for locals as there is an access road to the trail and bridge only 0.2 miles away.
About midnight I woke up to an upset stomach and a pressing need to evacuate my bowels, and I do mean pressing. I quickly and quietly exited the tent, but realized there was no where to relieve myself without contaminating a very public and highly used area. My bowels forced a decision, so I did the best I could to discreetly hide the mess. This same scenario repeated itself 4 more times before daylight. By now I was empty, but my bowels didn't seem to care. They continued to be active. We packed up and hiked the 0.2 miles to the parking lot with its pit toilets. As we sat at a picnic table discussing options and cooking soothing Cream of Wheat for breakfast a man drove in, came over and introduced himself as Dave and said he would be Trail Angeling for the day. He said he would have coffee, Mimosa drinks, fresh baked cinnamon rolls, fruit and homemade chili ready in just a bit. I helped him unload a gas oven, stove and coolers into the picnic area and watched him set up between trips to the toilet.
A few hikers straggled in for goodies while I sat and ached. About 10am Dave, Sally, Dave's friend Rick and I decided I needed to go to the emergency room so Rick drove Sally and I in Dave's truck to Mountain Community Hospital where I admitted myself to the emergency room.
Hospital gown on, IV in arm, X-rays taken and blood and urine test completed (they wanted a stool sample but my bowels had long since evacuated themselves) they concluded it was not appendicitis or other surgically repairable maladies but either a flu like virus or bacterial infection due to untreated water. I had suspected the bacterial infection from the looks of my stools. This is what had prompted me to go to the emergency room.
While I moaned and ached in my hospital bed, Sally looked for a place for us to spend the night. The Lake Arrowhead area is a resort community,so prices for rooms ($170 and up) were above our budget. The nurses got involved and started calling local places that might be cheaper and finding out about bus transport from the hospital to their locations. I expressed concern about riding in a bus with my bowel condition. Janelle, the nurse suggested a diaper, grinning and saying, "sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do". Charlotte and Janelle, my two nurses doted on me and were very kind. They brought Sally food, showed great interest in our PCT adventure and hung out and talked as much their time and duties would allow.
Dave, our trail angel, had earlier offered to drive us where we needed to go once we got out of the hospital. Sally called him for a ride. He said forget a room and offered to put us up for the night.
Dave picked us up at the hospital at 3:30, drove us to the pharmacy to fill our prescription for antibiotics, gave us a tour of this affluent mountain community and finally took us to his home perched high on the ridge (6000') overlooking all of the Los Angeles basin with San Bernardino 5000' below. From his deck he can see Catalina Island on a clear day.
I was not too interested in the view upon my arrival and was soon alternating between lying on the floor in the upstairs bedroom and sitting on the toilet-most of the time on the latter. Meanwhile, Sally and Dave visited downstairs while Dave, who is a wonderful cook among other amazing qualities, prepared homemade split pea soup for dinner. After quite a few hours of painful stomach cramps and bowel evacuations I finally found the right mix of Imodium, Ibuprofen, Ciprofloxacin and Ondansetron to calm my intestinal tract and allow me to sleep.
A few words about Dave. He is a Trail Angel extraordinaire. In fact, both Sally and I have elevated him to Trail Saint. Without his help our predicament would have been intolerable. He is a computer programmer, 49 years old with two grown kids, a son and daughter. He grew up in the home he now owns, moved away as soon as he could upon high school graduation, lived and worked his own business on the east coast and came back 20 years later to buy back his family home. His parent had since sold it and moved to Florence, Oregon.
He loves music and has awesome analog stereo equipment, including a high end turntable and vacuum tube stereo amplifier in a dedicated room in his house just for listening-his childhood bedroom. He has a huge collection of mint vinyl albums. I asked to listen to Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here" album, and he was happy to share his music. He let the amplifier warm up for 45 minutes before treating me to an amazing sound experience. MP3s pale by comparison, even to my aged ears.
He has commissioned many art pieces from artist friends that are astounding in quality and content. He also has an Escher original.
He is extremely bright, quick witted and loves to laugh. He loves great food and drink and loves to cook gourmet foods for himself and friends. He is an avid hiker and has hiked about 700 miles of the PCT. His 4.9 acres on top of the ridge abuts Forest Service land, so literally out his backdoor he has miles and miles of trails and hiking which he avails himself of several times a day as he now does computer work from his home.
The predicament we were in we can now make light of thanks to this kind, generous, wonderful man. A tremendous shout out to Dave. He lifted us over our biggest obstacle to date.
No comments:
Post a Comment