Here is a summary of days, distances, elevation gains and losses and places camped.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Buffer Days - Monday - July 7
As the interface between trail and town began to present itself over a week ago I knew the transition would be a challenge. To make sure I was present for my flight I gave myself a few buffer days in case some unforeseen event delayed my arrival at Lake Tahoe and threatened to keep me from my flight. Thankfully, nothing slowed my arrival and I am left with a day and a half in Reno before my flight whisks me home Tuesday afternoon. Today was my day to be in Reno and to make the best of it.
The contrast between the people on the trail and the hunched forms leaning over their gambling machines could not be more dynamic. Energetic, healthy, full of life and ambition, happy, and glowing, are descriptors I would apply to the people I met on the trail. Downtrodden, despairing, hopeless, sickly, and moribund fit the denizens of the streets and casinos of the district of Reno I am at. Of course, I was staying in a casino where the room rates were $27.50 a night, so a certain cliental are attracted, and although the price would attract PCT thru hikers these are not the people who populate the rooms and gaming areas of this area of town.
Late last night I had a craving for an ice cream. From my 11th floor window I could see a quickie mart kitty corner across the street. No big deal, just run across the road and buy a cone. On the way across the street I was propositioned by two prostitutes (flattering, I guess, but I think they found my wallet's content more attractive than the old guy carrying it). Up the street a deranged man yelled loudly at no one in particular. I did not want to become the focus of his anger and attention, so I crossed the street to avoid him. Once in the safety of the store (I really wanted a cone!) a very drunk man and his inebriated friend loudly argued over what liquor to buy, casting glances around the store to see if anyone would challenge his choices. I purchased my Nutty Buddy and began the 100 yard trek back through the mine field to the hotel. Other than other overt displays of aggressive behavior by a few men on the street and come on looks from the ladies sitting on the power transformer box it was an uneventful return trip. They say the greater the effort expended in gaining the prize the more valued the reward. That was the best ice cream cone I can remember.
Earlier in the day, when it was still light I rode the bus across town to Sierra Trading Post in hopes of replacing my worn boots. Although new when I started, the Shoe Goo on the soles is all that kept me from walking barefoot the last 100 miles. I found that T.J. Maxx had purchased the Post. The great bargains of yesteryear are no more. It looked like just another clothing store with some camping gear scattered about. I visited the adjacent mall in search of an inexpensive Bluetooth keyboard for my iPad mini so I would not have to type with my thumbs anymore. I found a good one and purchased it (I am using it right now to write this blog-you may have noticed the more recent blogs have grown in length-blame the keyboard for my verbosity). In the daylight Reno seemed like just another town, especially in the shopping district I was prowling during the day. I returned to my room and began catching up on lagging blogs.
While approaching Muir Pass back on Sunday, June 22nd I met two young ladies in their early 20s, Fun Fact and Good Time. They were having the time of their lives, enjoying every moment on the trail. We talked for a while, having to shout over the sound of the waterfall cascading violently next to us. I headed down the trail before them, but I had a feeling I would see them again when they passed me later in the day. We leapfrogged each other until early the next morning when they were part of the gathering at Muir Pass - Dogger, Billy, Silvia, Tie Dye, Vessel, myself and Good Time and Fun Fact (see "Party at the Pass" blog entry). While there we discovered that we were leaving Reno just a day apart and would be in town together. Fun Fact gave me her phone number and we set a date for dinner Monday night, July 7th.
I texted Fun Fact early this morning to see if they were still interested. The reply came later in the day. The two girls were in Mammoth, trying to hitch a ride to Reno and hoped to be here in time for dinner. They got a ride the entire 3 hour drive, including a stop at Sierra Trading Post for a little post trail shopping. I knew they were on their way, but it was getting late and I was getting hungry. I slipped out of my room and took the elevator to the lobby, intent on getting a sandwich at the deli to hold me over until our dinner. As I exited the elevator I saw the two girls standing in the registration line, grubby backpacks on their backs, waiting to register for a room. The $27.50 is a strong attractor.
After they secured their room and had a shower we met in the lobby and walked to the bus stop to get to a pizza place. The bus was late, so we walked a block to a reputedly great Mexican restaurant and had a good meal peppered with lively trail talk.
Back in the casino lobby we said our final goodbyes and best wishes for a good life knowing we would not see one another again, just like on the trail. But, if goodbyes hold in town as well as they do on the trail I think there is a good chance our paths will cross again. The hiking community is smaller and more close knit than one would expect.
And so my last full day away from home came to an end. Can I sum up this entire adventure? Perhaps it is best described to be like Bill and Ted's - Excellent. Am I game to try again? In a heartbeat!
If you have read through these postings over the months, I thank you. They have been fun to write, knowing friends and family are reading. They have served as a vicarious connection to home, for as I wrote each one I imagined friends and family back home reading them and it somehow made me feel not so far away. They will also serve as a reminder to me of the day-to-day anatomy of a grand adventure.
The contrast between the people on the trail and the hunched forms leaning over their gambling machines could not be more dynamic. Energetic, healthy, full of life and ambition, happy, and glowing, are descriptors I would apply to the people I met on the trail. Downtrodden, despairing, hopeless, sickly, and moribund fit the denizens of the streets and casinos of the district of Reno I am at. Of course, I was staying in a casino where the room rates were $27.50 a night, so a certain cliental are attracted, and although the price would attract PCT thru hikers these are not the people who populate the rooms and gaming areas of this area of town.
Late last night I had a craving for an ice cream. From my 11th floor window I could see a quickie mart kitty corner across the street. No big deal, just run across the road and buy a cone. On the way across the street I was propositioned by two prostitutes (flattering, I guess, but I think they found my wallet's content more attractive than the old guy carrying it). Up the street a deranged man yelled loudly at no one in particular. I did not want to become the focus of his anger and attention, so I crossed the street to avoid him. Once in the safety of the store (I really wanted a cone!) a very drunk man and his inebriated friend loudly argued over what liquor to buy, casting glances around the store to see if anyone would challenge his choices. I purchased my Nutty Buddy and began the 100 yard trek back through the mine field to the hotel. Other than other overt displays of aggressive behavior by a few men on the street and come on looks from the ladies sitting on the power transformer box it was an uneventful return trip. They say the greater the effort expended in gaining the prize the more valued the reward. That was the best ice cream cone I can remember.
Earlier in the day, when it was still light I rode the bus across town to Sierra Trading Post in hopes of replacing my worn boots. Although new when I started, the Shoe Goo on the soles is all that kept me from walking barefoot the last 100 miles. I found that T.J. Maxx had purchased the Post. The great bargains of yesteryear are no more. It looked like just another clothing store with some camping gear scattered about. I visited the adjacent mall in search of an inexpensive Bluetooth keyboard for my iPad mini so I would not have to type with my thumbs anymore. I found a good one and purchased it (I am using it right now to write this blog-you may have noticed the more recent blogs have grown in length-blame the keyboard for my verbosity). In the daylight Reno seemed like just another town, especially in the shopping district I was prowling during the day. I returned to my room and began catching up on lagging blogs.
While approaching Muir Pass back on Sunday, June 22nd I met two young ladies in their early 20s, Fun Fact and Good Time. They were having the time of their lives, enjoying every moment on the trail. We talked for a while, having to shout over the sound of the waterfall cascading violently next to us. I headed down the trail before them, but I had a feeling I would see them again when they passed me later in the day. We leapfrogged each other until early the next morning when they were part of the gathering at Muir Pass - Dogger, Billy, Silvia, Tie Dye, Vessel, myself and Good Time and Fun Fact (see "Party at the Pass" blog entry). While there we discovered that we were leaving Reno just a day apart and would be in town together. Fun Fact gave me her phone number and we set a date for dinner Monday night, July 7th.
I texted Fun Fact early this morning to see if they were still interested. The reply came later in the day. The two girls were in Mammoth, trying to hitch a ride to Reno and hoped to be here in time for dinner. They got a ride the entire 3 hour drive, including a stop at Sierra Trading Post for a little post trail shopping. I knew they were on their way, but it was getting late and I was getting hungry. I slipped out of my room and took the elevator to the lobby, intent on getting a sandwich at the deli to hold me over until our dinner. As I exited the elevator I saw the two girls standing in the registration line, grubby backpacks on their backs, waiting to register for a room. The $27.50 is a strong attractor.
After they secured their room and had a shower we met in the lobby and walked to the bus stop to get to a pizza place. The bus was late, so we walked a block to a reputedly great Mexican restaurant and had a good meal peppered with lively trail talk.
Back in the casino lobby we said our final goodbyes and best wishes for a good life knowing we would not see one another again, just like on the trail. But, if goodbyes hold in town as well as they do on the trail I think there is a good chance our paths will cross again. The hiking community is smaller and more close knit than one would expect.
And so my last full day away from home came to an end. Can I sum up this entire adventure? Perhaps it is best described to be like Bill and Ted's - Excellent. Am I game to try again? In a heartbeat!
If you have read through these postings over the months, I thank you. They have been fun to write, knowing friends and family are reading. They have served as a vicarious connection to home, for as I wrote each one I imagined friends and family back home reading them and it somehow made me feel not so far away. They will also serve as a reminder to me of the day-to-day anatomy of a grand adventure.
Homeward Bound - Sunday, July 6
I woke at 4:30 this morning, called awake by an expanded bladder, as is my usual routine. However, instead of just ascending to my knees and peeing from my Tyvek I rose and staggered into the Tahoe beach front house to leave my offering in the toilet so as not to despoil the Tahoe beach I was sleeping upon. I returned to my "bed" fully intent on sleeping more, but the beauty of the morning had taken away my will to sleep. The first light was illuminating the lake, dead calm and glassy smooth. I set up my iPhone on its tripod and launched my time lapse photography app to try to capture the dawning of the day. I set it to take a photo every 15 seconds and then lay back down to enjoy the morning, quite sure the battery in my abused phone would die long before the sun rose to complete my video. I tried to sleep more, but in vain. The uniqueness of the place and moment beckoned me awake, so I gave in and enjoyed the dawning of the day.
The rest of the household began stirring about 8 and soon we were on the back side of the house enjoying tea and coffee in the morning sun. The families take turns cooking meals, creating a little competition to outdo each other, so this morning was fresh fruit, yogurt and eggs Benedict, all wonderfully prepared and served on the deck facing the lake.
I stayed and enjoyed the company until about 10, but then felt it was time to leave and let the owners and their guests enjoy their last hours at this wonderful place before they too had to go back to their Bay Area homes. I packed up and made the rounds saying goodbye, but before I could go a group picture was to be had, a tradition of this house. We gathered on the sunny side of the house on the back deck for our photo shoot. This made it easier to leave, as the whole group was gathered and one goodbye could apply to all.
I walked the mile or so to Harrah's Casino just over state line on the Nevada side and purchased my bus ticket for the hour ride to the Reno airport. While waiting the 2 hours for the bus I called the Sands Regency Casino in Reno and secured a room for $27.50 a night, the rumored price we had heard from hikers on the PCT. I chatted with other folks waiting for the bus before boarding.
At the Reno Airport I caught the hotel airport shuttle to the Sands, then stood in line with my backpack on at the front desk waiting to register for my room. That accomplished, the elevator whisked me to the 11th floor where I entered the room, dropped my pack and collapsed on one of the two queen beds.
I had been dreaming of this moment for the last 5 days. Alone in a room with no trail or tasks before me, I just wanted to be a total vegetable. And my body needed it. I had hiked over 303 miles in the past 14 days through the heart of the Sierra and I was pooped.
There is not much else to tell about today. I watched movies on Netflix on my iPad until about 9, went down to the gift shop for a granola bar and a Diet Pepsi and was asleep by 10. It felt good to just lie prostrate on the bed, very tired and relaxed. No miles to conquer, no rides to hitch, no people to meet or greet, no camp to set up, no meals to cook.
The previous two days had come together to create a grand finish; 26 miles on the 4th of July ending in an exquisite campsite and last night's evening on the Tahoe beach with great food, new friends and incredible sunset. Life is good.
The rest of the household began stirring about 8 and soon we were on the back side of the house enjoying tea and coffee in the morning sun. The families take turns cooking meals, creating a little competition to outdo each other, so this morning was fresh fruit, yogurt and eggs Benedict, all wonderfully prepared and served on the deck facing the lake.
I stayed and enjoyed the company until about 10, but then felt it was time to leave and let the owners and their guests enjoy their last hours at this wonderful place before they too had to go back to their Bay Area homes. I packed up and made the rounds saying goodbye, but before I could go a group picture was to be had, a tradition of this house. We gathered on the sunny side of the house on the back deck for our photo shoot. This made it easier to leave, as the whole group was gathered and one goodbye could apply to all.
I walked the mile or so to Harrah's Casino just over state line on the Nevada side and purchased my bus ticket for the hour ride to the Reno airport. While waiting the 2 hours for the bus I called the Sands Regency Casino in Reno and secured a room for $27.50 a night, the rumored price we had heard from hikers on the PCT. I chatted with other folks waiting for the bus before boarding.
At the Reno Airport I caught the hotel airport shuttle to the Sands, then stood in line with my backpack on at the front desk waiting to register for my room. That accomplished, the elevator whisked me to the 11th floor where I entered the room, dropped my pack and collapsed on one of the two queen beds.
I had been dreaming of this moment for the last 5 days. Alone in a room with no trail or tasks before me, I just wanted to be a total vegetable. And my body needed it. I had hiked over 303 miles in the past 14 days through the heart of the Sierra and I was pooped.
There is not much else to tell about today. I watched movies on Netflix on my iPad until about 9, went down to the gift shop for a granola bar and a Diet Pepsi and was asleep by 10. It felt good to just lie prostrate on the bed, very tired and relaxed. No miles to conquer, no rides to hitch, no people to meet or greet, no camp to set up, no meals to cook.
The previous two days had come together to create a grand finish; 26 miles on the 4th of July ending in an exquisite campsite and last night's evening on the Tahoe beach with great food, new friends and incredible sunset. Life is good.
Monday, July 7, 2014
Faith In Serendipity - Saturday, July 5
Today was a lesson in world views. A contrast between ways of handling the unknown. A matter of faith I suppose. Or serendipity. It separates those that plunge forward in life with the belief that the world and it's people will just workout for the best and those that must have every moment planned to avoid the uncertainty of unforeseen events. It might be the difference between the way a young person sees the world compared to one older, or one who has traveled more compared to one who has traveled less. Or it just may come down to confidence. Someone who has confidence in their abilities to react to people and conditions quickly to attain their needs and someone who isn't sure they can rely on themselves to negotiate the world without a plan in place to make it all go smoothly. Both the one that relies on serendipity and the one that relies on planning can be successful, and at times each adopts the other's methods when appropriate. Today, the planner (me) and the serendipitous (Happy Feet) applied our methods to deal with the Interface from trail to Tahoe on the busiest day of the vacation year. The outcome was startling, planned, and serendipitous all at the same time. And, it contained a large element of Trail Magic.
Knowing we only had 12 miles to go to get to Highway 50, or in my plan only 8 miles until the last campsite and water before Highway 50, we slept in, until 6:00am, when I started on my blog, waiting for Happy Feet to start stirring.
We were up and out by 8:30, but our pace was slow with many stops for water, food, swimming in a lake and talk with other hikers. There was no urgency about our pace, because I was planning to stay at that aforementioned campsite tonight, July 5th, the busiest Saturday night in Tahoe, wait until the crowds left and hotel rates dropped, then hit the highway, thumb a ride into South Tahoe, catch a bus to Reno, and hole up in a hotel room a couple nights, catching my breath before hopping on my flight home on Tuesday.
As we walked and talked it became apparent the Happy Feet was thinking of all the food he could score if we went into town tonight. About 8 miles out I got cell service, so we stopped to check room rates and look for camping in South Tahoe. After an hour of calling and running my cell battery from 60% to 25% we had confirmed my earlier suspicions that the hotel rates were high and out of our league. Motel 6 was $160 for Saturday night and $60 for Sunday night. We reached the water and campsite at 4 miles from the highway and I sat down, expecting this to be our site for the night.
Happy Feet did not have the concern I had for lack of accommodations for the night in town. As we sat, snacked and drank water he began to make noises about heading down the trail to town. His faith in serendipity was much greater than mine. Our contrasting world views were coming to the surface. I could not bring myself to just trust to fate that something would materialize once we hit town. Happy Feet was willing to. As we discussed our situation I began to poisen his faith. He began to doubt his own ability to make a trip to town work. After 45 minutes of discussion, a few more phone calls (I had been given a list of Trail Angels in the area by some southbound kids a couple days before, so we tried 10 or so, but not a single one picked up) and a growing antsyness to do something, Happy Feet was about ready to head out. At that moment the universe texted me, this time disguised as Coyote, the first person Sally and I met on the PCT on day one just outside Campo. I quickly called her and she picked up. It was nice to hear her voice. We had not seen her since Big Bear in late April.
I asked what she was doing for arrangements in Tahoe for the evening after explaining we were at a campsite 4 miles up the trail due to lack of accommodations. She said she would be staying in a house on Lake Tahoe with a friend. I asked if we could pile in on this opportunity. She sounded excited to see us but reticent about the arrangements and said she would call back in a few. Happy Feet now perked up and looked interested, but we were back to waiting. The longest half hour ever finally ended when Coyote called back to say it would work and we were to get to the Library in South Tahoe as soon as possible.
We hurriedly packed and were about to start our race down the trail when Shutter and Captain hiked in. They asked what we were doing for the night, so we told them we were going to camp here but just got hooked up with Coyote in South Tahoe. They asked if they could piggy back on the deal. It hurt to say it, but due to the tentativeness in Coyote's voice about the situation I said it was only for two. The look of disappointment on their faces was crushing, but I had no choice. Shutter immediately pulled out his phone and sent me a text, saying if when we got to Coyote if there was anyway to swing it to text him. I agreed as Happy Feet and I began sprinting down the trail.
We covered the 4 miles in 50 minutes and stationed ourselves on the highway, thumbs out. Happy Feet rolled up his pant leg and made come on gestures to the passing cars, but to no avail. From my vantage point behind him I could see his begging motions, down on one knee, hands clasped together in a praying position did affect the drivers and passengers as they sped by at 60 miles per hour, but not enough to induce them to stop.
After about 10 minutes a Subaru sports car screeched to a halt in the pull off area we had strategically put behind us and we ran back to secure our ride. An ER doctor from Tahoe who was on his way home from work in Placerville picked us up and drove us directly to the library after a quick stop for ice cream for his kids. We arrived at the library at 4:50, much quicker than I imagined we could make it. We walked to Safeway to buy contributions to the dinner so as not to show up empty handed, then walked a mile to Coyote's position where we boarded a pick up and drove to the lake shore home for the night.
What a place! Built in 1927, it is a classic Tahoe style house right on the water owned by the same family for generations. Even though Happy Feet and I were 8 days without a bath, dirty and stinky we were welcomed in by the home owners Penny and Jim, and the two couples that were staying with them.
We showered before dinner, then enjoyed a marvelous salad and chicken and potato "stir fry" on the lake side deck in the light of the setting sun. Everyone was captivated by stories of the trail and we talked until 10pm, enjoying ice cream, cookies and grapes as desert while we were peppered with questions. Penny and Jim are gentle souls who genuinely enjoyed our company and the excitement of the trail brought into their lives.
Coyote and Don't Panic shared a bedroom in the house while Happy Feet and I spread our ground tarps on the beach and slept near the water's edge. I could hardly sleep as the quarter moon reflected off the lake and a light breeze rustled the nylon of my quilt. Plus, our extraordinary good fortune at having this opportunity dropped in our laps had me all charged up.
So, was it the planning that brought about the events of today, or was it serendipity? Did my stodgy refusal to enter town until a plan was in effect or Happy Feet's free wheeling reliance on serendipity land us on a moonlit beach of Lake Tahoe inside a gated community with full bellies and happy hearts? You be the judge, but I have learned much from the younger people on the trail about seat of the pants living. They seem unflappable in their belief that it will all work out if you just give the universe the chance to take care of you. I appreciate the lessons they have taught me and although less flexible than they, I begin to see their point of view.
Knowing we only had 12 miles to go to get to Highway 50, or in my plan only 8 miles until the last campsite and water before Highway 50, we slept in, until 6:00am, when I started on my blog, waiting for Happy Feet to start stirring.
We were up and out by 8:30, but our pace was slow with many stops for water, food, swimming in a lake and talk with other hikers. There was no urgency about our pace, because I was planning to stay at that aforementioned campsite tonight, July 5th, the busiest Saturday night in Tahoe, wait until the crowds left and hotel rates dropped, then hit the highway, thumb a ride into South Tahoe, catch a bus to Reno, and hole up in a hotel room a couple nights, catching my breath before hopping on my flight home on Tuesday.
As we walked and talked it became apparent the Happy Feet was thinking of all the food he could score if we went into town tonight. About 8 miles out I got cell service, so we stopped to check room rates and look for camping in South Tahoe. After an hour of calling and running my cell battery from 60% to 25% we had confirmed my earlier suspicions that the hotel rates were high and out of our league. Motel 6 was $160 for Saturday night and $60 for Sunday night. We reached the water and campsite at 4 miles from the highway and I sat down, expecting this to be our site for the night.
Happy Feet did not have the concern I had for lack of accommodations for the night in town. As we sat, snacked and drank water he began to make noises about heading down the trail to town. His faith in serendipity was much greater than mine. Our contrasting world views were coming to the surface. I could not bring myself to just trust to fate that something would materialize once we hit town. Happy Feet was willing to. As we discussed our situation I began to poisen his faith. He began to doubt his own ability to make a trip to town work. After 45 minutes of discussion, a few more phone calls (I had been given a list of Trail Angels in the area by some southbound kids a couple days before, so we tried 10 or so, but not a single one picked up) and a growing antsyness to do something, Happy Feet was about ready to head out. At that moment the universe texted me, this time disguised as Coyote, the first person Sally and I met on the PCT on day one just outside Campo. I quickly called her and she picked up. It was nice to hear her voice. We had not seen her since Big Bear in late April.
I asked what she was doing for arrangements in Tahoe for the evening after explaining we were at a campsite 4 miles up the trail due to lack of accommodations. She said she would be staying in a house on Lake Tahoe with a friend. I asked if we could pile in on this opportunity. She sounded excited to see us but reticent about the arrangements and said she would call back in a few. Happy Feet now perked up and looked interested, but we were back to waiting. The longest half hour ever finally ended when Coyote called back to say it would work and we were to get to the Library in South Tahoe as soon as possible.
We hurriedly packed and were about to start our race down the trail when Shutter and Captain hiked in. They asked what we were doing for the night, so we told them we were going to camp here but just got hooked up with Coyote in South Tahoe. They asked if they could piggy back on the deal. It hurt to say it, but due to the tentativeness in Coyote's voice about the situation I said it was only for two. The look of disappointment on their faces was crushing, but I had no choice. Shutter immediately pulled out his phone and sent me a text, saying if when we got to Coyote if there was anyway to swing it to text him. I agreed as Happy Feet and I began sprinting down the trail.
We covered the 4 miles in 50 minutes and stationed ourselves on the highway, thumbs out. Happy Feet rolled up his pant leg and made come on gestures to the passing cars, but to no avail. From my vantage point behind him I could see his begging motions, down on one knee, hands clasped together in a praying position did affect the drivers and passengers as they sped by at 60 miles per hour, but not enough to induce them to stop.
After about 10 minutes a Subaru sports car screeched to a halt in the pull off area we had strategically put behind us and we ran back to secure our ride. An ER doctor from Tahoe who was on his way home from work in Placerville picked us up and drove us directly to the library after a quick stop for ice cream for his kids. We arrived at the library at 4:50, much quicker than I imagined we could make it. We walked to Safeway to buy contributions to the dinner so as not to show up empty handed, then walked a mile to Coyote's position where we boarded a pick up and drove to the lake shore home for the night.
What a place! Built in 1927, it is a classic Tahoe style house right on the water owned by the same family for generations. Even though Happy Feet and I were 8 days without a bath, dirty and stinky we were welcomed in by the home owners Penny and Jim, and the two couples that were staying with them.
We showered before dinner, then enjoyed a marvelous salad and chicken and potato "stir fry" on the lake side deck in the light of the setting sun. Everyone was captivated by stories of the trail and we talked until 10pm, enjoying ice cream, cookies and grapes as desert while we were peppered with questions. Penny and Jim are gentle souls who genuinely enjoyed our company and the excitement of the trail brought into their lives.
Coyote and Don't Panic shared a bedroom in the house while Happy Feet and I spread our ground tarps on the beach and slept near the water's edge. I could hardly sleep as the quarter moon reflected off the lake and a light breeze rustled the nylon of my quilt. Plus, our extraordinary good fortune at having this opportunity dropped in our laps had me all charged up.
So, was it the planning that brought about the events of today, or was it serendipity? Did my stodgy refusal to enter town until a plan was in effect or Happy Feet's free wheeling reliance on serendipity land us on a moonlit beach of Lake Tahoe inside a gated community with full bellies and happy hearts? You be the judge, but I have learned much from the younger people on the trail about seat of the pants living. They seem unflappable in their belief that it will all work out if you just give the universe the chance to take care of you. I appreciate the lessons they have taught me and although less flexible than they, I begin to see their point of view.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Does it Have To End? - Friday, July 4
"Be happy it happened, not sad it's ending."
What an incredible last full day on the trail! A perfect ending.
Last night I was camped at mile 1055 with a large group, Captain, Shreck, Happy Feet and 4 other I had not met. I was collapsed on my Tyvek under my quilt when they arrived, so I did not get to meet them all as they busily cooked dinner and set up camp racing darkness.
This morning I was up and out at my usual 5:30. I had to quietly pack and sneak out as they were all asleep.
The early morning hiking was exquisite through miles and miles of flowers, across rugged rocky cliffs and through stands of timber. The rising sun accentuated it all with its orangish, soft glow creating a stunning scene. I felt a bit sluggish from the two previous days, a 25 mile day on Wednesday and a 23 yesterday, yet at 10:00am I had covered 10 miles. 10 @ 10 had been my goal the past few days and today I hit it. I celebrated with first lunch and a 20 minute rest.
I started out again. The trail wandered around, up 100', then down 100' passing by and over granite outcrops through stands of red fir, aspen, sierra juniper and pine. I was even more draggy than earlier with sore feet. I stopped to adjust my double thick foam rubber insoles which helped my right foot a bit.
The trail then climbed out of the trees and onto the side of the Nipple, a couple thousand foot high rock mountain. The wind was blowing a steady 25-30 miles per hour. The side of the mountain was covered in flowers tossed and waving in the wind. I stopped and sat to enjoy the view, hiding behind my pack to shelter from the wind. While snacking on an energy bar I used my solar panel to bring my iPhone and its camera back to life, dead since last night, and began taking pictures. It was stunning! The trail lead up and over the shoulder of the mountain giving panoramic views of the mountains to the north, south and west reminding me why it is called the Pacific Crest National SCENIC Trail. They could have built it lower on the mountain making for less climbing, but the scenic would have been lost.
My goal for the day was a water source and possible campsite at mile 1073, an 18 mile day after 2 days over 20 miles. About mile 1070 Happy Feet caught up with me. We had met at Kearsarge Pass briefly when he caught Sally and I at the pass, arriving dressed only in his underwear. He is as happy, positive and outgoing as his feet's namesake.
He caught me at a dirt road crossing. We exchanged greetings and noticed a SUV pulling a pop up camper drive by in a cloud of dust and then stop just 50 feet away. We both were thirsty and rumors of Trail Magic 6 miles ahead at Carson Pass had us dreaming of cookies and pop. We saw the driver get out of his car so Happy Feet walked in his directions and applied his best Yogi skills (Yogi comes from Yogi Bear the cartoon character who was always getting food from campers) to ask if they might have an extra beer or pop. The man recognized us as PCT hikers and said sure, opening a cooler on the tongue of his trailer and handing us two ice cold Mountain Dews, the crushed ice still clinging to the rim on the top of the cans. The man delighted in our expressions of joy as we clinked our cans together and took long, cold, immensely satisfying draws of the ice cold, caffeinated, sugary, energizing, refreshing soda. It was as close to Heaven as I can remember.
We chatted as we finished our pop, asked if he would mind taking the empties, shook their hands and were on our way.
It is amazing how the addition of a hiking partner can erase and alleviate previous aches and pains. As we hiked and talked there was no time for contemplation of shoulder straps digging into collar bones, nor heel pain. With Happy Feet in front setting a vigorous pace that I could barely maintain the time flew. He was bent on reaching Carson Pass which was 6 miles further than I was planning to go, but the conversation and his company along with the perfect hiking weather quickly caused me to change my goals. My weariness of earlier in the day vanished. We stopped to eat and dry our feet in the sun at what was previously my destination, filling our water bottles, then we were off again.
At Carson Pass we relaxed on the picnic tables next to the parking lot outside the closed Visitors Center and were able to Yogi a peanut butter and honey sandwich, a Kind Bar and a handful of gorp each from two couples on the adjacent table.
Even though the guide book mentioned water at the Visitors Center, there was no water at the pass, so we shouldered our packs and were off again. We already had 24 miles under us and it was 6:30, but with no water we had to move on. Our guide books showed water at mile 1081, so off we went. We found an idyllic campsite between two trees in a flower filled meadow next to a stream. With the sun down and darkness approaching we filled our water bottles and soaked our feet in the stream, then returned to set up camp and cook dinner. I shared my cheddar and broccoli soup with Happy Feet as we talked about his dream of becoming President of the United States.
A fine breeze blew until after dark keeping the mosquitoes at bay and tugging on my quilt as I nestled in for the night. A wonderful end to an amazing last full day on the trail.
What an incredible last full day on the trail! A perfect ending.
Last night I was camped at mile 1055 with a large group, Captain, Shreck, Happy Feet and 4 other I had not met. I was collapsed on my Tyvek under my quilt when they arrived, so I did not get to meet them all as they busily cooked dinner and set up camp racing darkness.
This morning I was up and out at my usual 5:30. I had to quietly pack and sneak out as they were all asleep.
The early morning hiking was exquisite through miles and miles of flowers, across rugged rocky cliffs and through stands of timber. The rising sun accentuated it all with its orangish, soft glow creating a stunning scene. I felt a bit sluggish from the two previous days, a 25 mile day on Wednesday and a 23 yesterday, yet at 10:00am I had covered 10 miles. 10 @ 10 had been my goal the past few days and today I hit it. I celebrated with first lunch and a 20 minute rest.
I started out again. The trail wandered around, up 100', then down 100' passing by and over granite outcrops through stands of red fir, aspen, sierra juniper and pine. I was even more draggy than earlier with sore feet. I stopped to adjust my double thick foam rubber insoles which helped my right foot a bit.
The trail then climbed out of the trees and onto the side of the Nipple, a couple thousand foot high rock mountain. The wind was blowing a steady 25-30 miles per hour. The side of the mountain was covered in flowers tossed and waving in the wind. I stopped and sat to enjoy the view, hiding behind my pack to shelter from the wind. While snacking on an energy bar I used my solar panel to bring my iPhone and its camera back to life, dead since last night, and began taking pictures. It was stunning! The trail lead up and over the shoulder of the mountain giving panoramic views of the mountains to the north, south and west reminding me why it is called the Pacific Crest National SCENIC Trail. They could have built it lower on the mountain making for less climbing, but the scenic would have been lost.
My goal for the day was a water source and possible campsite at mile 1073, an 18 mile day after 2 days over 20 miles. About mile 1070 Happy Feet caught up with me. We had met at Kearsarge Pass briefly when he caught Sally and I at the pass, arriving dressed only in his underwear. He is as happy, positive and outgoing as his feet's namesake.
He caught me at a dirt road crossing. We exchanged greetings and noticed a SUV pulling a pop up camper drive by in a cloud of dust and then stop just 50 feet away. We both were thirsty and rumors of Trail Magic 6 miles ahead at Carson Pass had us dreaming of cookies and pop. We saw the driver get out of his car so Happy Feet walked in his directions and applied his best Yogi skills (Yogi comes from Yogi Bear the cartoon character who was always getting food from campers) to ask if they might have an extra beer or pop. The man recognized us as PCT hikers and said sure, opening a cooler on the tongue of his trailer and handing us two ice cold Mountain Dews, the crushed ice still clinging to the rim on the top of the cans. The man delighted in our expressions of joy as we clinked our cans together and took long, cold, immensely satisfying draws of the ice cold, caffeinated, sugary, energizing, refreshing soda. It was as close to Heaven as I can remember.
We chatted as we finished our pop, asked if he would mind taking the empties, shook their hands and were on our way.
It is amazing how the addition of a hiking partner can erase and alleviate previous aches and pains. As we hiked and talked there was no time for contemplation of shoulder straps digging into collar bones, nor heel pain. With Happy Feet in front setting a vigorous pace that I could barely maintain the time flew. He was bent on reaching Carson Pass which was 6 miles further than I was planning to go, but the conversation and his company along with the perfect hiking weather quickly caused me to change my goals. My weariness of earlier in the day vanished. We stopped to eat and dry our feet in the sun at what was previously my destination, filling our water bottles, then we were off again.
At Carson Pass we relaxed on the picnic tables next to the parking lot outside the closed Visitors Center and were able to Yogi a peanut butter and honey sandwich, a Kind Bar and a handful of gorp each from two couples on the adjacent table.
Even though the guide book mentioned water at the Visitors Center, there was no water at the pass, so we shouldered our packs and were off again. We already had 24 miles under us and it was 6:30, but with no water we had to move on. Our guide books showed water at mile 1081, so off we went. We found an idyllic campsite between two trees in a flower filled meadow next to a stream. With the sun down and darkness approaching we filled our water bottles and soaked our feet in the stream, then returned to set up camp and cook dinner. I shared my cheddar and broccoli soup with Happy Feet as we talked about his dream of becoming President of the United States.
A fine breeze blew until after dark keeping the mosquitoes at bay and tugging on my quilt as I nestled in for the night. A wonderful end to an amazing last full day on the trail.
Friday, July 4, 2014
Spiritual Ecstasy - Thursday, July 3
"My father says almost the whole world is asleep . . . and he says only a few people are awake and they live in a state of constant, total amazement."
Meg Ryan in Joe Versus the Volcano
What turns you on? Makes you giggle inside? Brightens your day? Beckons you away from all other activities? Causes you unreasonable delight? Puts a smile on your face? Makes your eyes glow? Causes you to sing to yourself? Or out loud? Lightens your step? Gives you unbridled joy? Makes your spirit soar?
For some of us it comes on a daily basis. We love our work. Our families. Our friends. Our art. Our music. Our dance.
Unfortunately, for some it rarely if ever comes and their lives are a tragedy for its absence.
When you meet someone in the midst of their joy it is a special treat. Their eyes are alive. They are animated in thought and action. They see only the positive in the world and are anxious to share it with you. Their joy is contagious.
This is the experience of the PCT. Nearly everyone here is in a state of constant, total amazement. Thrilled to be here. Excited about life. Wanting to share their happiness and joy with the world.
As I walked the trail this morning I occurred to me that when I am hiking in the mountains I am in a constant state of low grade ecstasy. I am just unreasonably happy. I love being here.
I suppose I should let that statement rest and just be happy in my condition, but the science side of my mind wants to analyze this. What causes this? What conditions blend together to create my spiritual ecstasy and keep it fueled for days, and in the case of this adventure, months.
I love to walk. To feel my body move as it shifts it's center of mass and navigates uneven terrain. I love the blue sky, the sun, the brush of a cool breeze against my skin. I love the shape of the terrain, the peaks, valleys, rock outcrops, erosional and depositional landforms. I love the trees, their massive columns or snow contorted forms. I love the flowers, raising their heads to the sun, colorful, amassed in exquisite arrangement that would put a florist to shame. I love the streams and lakes that dot the landscape, their joyous gurgle as they rush downhill or the happy lapping of waves on their shores. I love being nestled in my quilt atop my inflated pad, warm and comfortable while the cold night air presses from without. I love the night wind as it rustles my quilt and adds contrast to the warmth within and cold outside. I love watching the cycles of the moon as it takes it's month to circle the earth, each consecutive night changing in size, shape and brightness. I love being able to roll over in the morning and lite my stove, cook my breakfast and eat it without leaving my bed. I love walking along, my head like an army tank's turret swiveling side to side taking in the scenery while my legs carry me along. I love getting hungry from the exercise, then satisfying it with all the food I can carry. I love laying under my quilt on a cloudless night in timber and seeing the stars twinkling between the soaring trees above me from horizon to horizon.
These exquisite experiences combine to leave me enraptured on the trail and thankful for the good fortune to be able to engage in such joyous adventures.
I rose today at the usual 5am and was moving by 5:30. I had spent another peaceful night by myself, camped in tall timber near a babbling creek. The trail stayed in timber only a short mile or two, then erupted into meadows of flowers all lit by the early morning glow. It rolled gently up and down hills bursting with flora.
I had done 25 miles the day before, so I was concerned I would feel fatigued today. Yet, to put me in position for arriving on time at South Lake Tahoe I needed to get at least 20 miles out of my body today, and with the spacing of water and camping I would need to reach mile 1053 to hit them simultaneously. I had camped at mile 1032 last night, so it looked like a good fit, 20 miles.
My app of choice for navigating the trail has been primarily Guthooks Trail Guides. Since leaving the border 3 months earlier they have been perfectly accurate, correctly showing water sources, camping and geographic features via the contour maps. Today, for the first time it let me down. When a stream is a dead certainty to exist, Guthook shows a water drop on the map that is solid white-filled in. When it is a sketchy stream, one that is seasonal and might be dry it is the same water drop symbol, but only the bottom half is colored white. As I approached my destination, a solid white water drop on the map, I found dry stream beds and zero water. A moment of panic ensued as I had drank my last drops an hour ago and was counting on this source. Checking Guthooks app I saw a seasonal water source three miles ahead, the half filled drop symbol. I cross checked this information with my other source, Halfmile's app. It had the streams the other way around. The dry beds I stood over were marked as seasonal and the next source was shown as a reliable source. I completed the next three miles and found water and camping for the night. It upped my milage to 23 for the day, a bit more than I desired, especially on the heals of a 25 mile day. I quickly set out my Tyvek, sleeping pad and quilt, then lit my stove and cooked a huge dinner of chicken and mashed potatoes. It was supposed to be for both Sally and I, but I had inventoried food the previous evening and found I had been hoarding my stores and could afford to eat more at a few meals. This meal was a welcome one, nearly a quart of taters with chicken bits mixed in.
Shortly after I had finished eating Captain showed up, then Shutter. Before another hour had passed Happy Feet and 4 others were putting up their tents and cooking their dinners.
I was too fatigued to be sociable, so while these young men chatted and laughed I enjoyed listening to their camaraderie all curled up under my quilt. The extra miles I did this evening just meant an easier day tomorrow. I plotted out an 18 mile day to let my body get a chance to recover, then drifted off to sleep.
Meg Ryan in Joe Versus the Volcano
What turns you on? Makes you giggle inside? Brightens your day? Beckons you away from all other activities? Causes you unreasonable delight? Puts a smile on your face? Makes your eyes glow? Causes you to sing to yourself? Or out loud? Lightens your step? Gives you unbridled joy? Makes your spirit soar?
For some of us it comes on a daily basis. We love our work. Our families. Our friends. Our art. Our music. Our dance.
Unfortunately, for some it rarely if ever comes and their lives are a tragedy for its absence.
When you meet someone in the midst of their joy it is a special treat. Their eyes are alive. They are animated in thought and action. They see only the positive in the world and are anxious to share it with you. Their joy is contagious.
This is the experience of the PCT. Nearly everyone here is in a state of constant, total amazement. Thrilled to be here. Excited about life. Wanting to share their happiness and joy with the world.
As I walked the trail this morning I occurred to me that when I am hiking in the mountains I am in a constant state of low grade ecstasy. I am just unreasonably happy. I love being here.
I suppose I should let that statement rest and just be happy in my condition, but the science side of my mind wants to analyze this. What causes this? What conditions blend together to create my spiritual ecstasy and keep it fueled for days, and in the case of this adventure, months.
I love to walk. To feel my body move as it shifts it's center of mass and navigates uneven terrain. I love the blue sky, the sun, the brush of a cool breeze against my skin. I love the shape of the terrain, the peaks, valleys, rock outcrops, erosional and depositional landforms. I love the trees, their massive columns or snow contorted forms. I love the flowers, raising their heads to the sun, colorful, amassed in exquisite arrangement that would put a florist to shame. I love the streams and lakes that dot the landscape, their joyous gurgle as they rush downhill or the happy lapping of waves on their shores. I love being nestled in my quilt atop my inflated pad, warm and comfortable while the cold night air presses from without. I love the night wind as it rustles my quilt and adds contrast to the warmth within and cold outside. I love watching the cycles of the moon as it takes it's month to circle the earth, each consecutive night changing in size, shape and brightness. I love being able to roll over in the morning and lite my stove, cook my breakfast and eat it without leaving my bed. I love walking along, my head like an army tank's turret swiveling side to side taking in the scenery while my legs carry me along. I love getting hungry from the exercise, then satisfying it with all the food I can carry. I love laying under my quilt on a cloudless night in timber and seeing the stars twinkling between the soaring trees above me from horizon to horizon.
These exquisite experiences combine to leave me enraptured on the trail and thankful for the good fortune to be able to engage in such joyous adventures.
I rose today at the usual 5am and was moving by 5:30. I had spent another peaceful night by myself, camped in tall timber near a babbling creek. The trail stayed in timber only a short mile or two, then erupted into meadows of flowers all lit by the early morning glow. It rolled gently up and down hills bursting with flora.
I had done 25 miles the day before, so I was concerned I would feel fatigued today. Yet, to put me in position for arriving on time at South Lake Tahoe I needed to get at least 20 miles out of my body today, and with the spacing of water and camping I would need to reach mile 1053 to hit them simultaneously. I had camped at mile 1032 last night, so it looked like a good fit, 20 miles.
My app of choice for navigating the trail has been primarily Guthooks Trail Guides. Since leaving the border 3 months earlier they have been perfectly accurate, correctly showing water sources, camping and geographic features via the contour maps. Today, for the first time it let me down. When a stream is a dead certainty to exist, Guthook shows a water drop on the map that is solid white-filled in. When it is a sketchy stream, one that is seasonal and might be dry it is the same water drop symbol, but only the bottom half is colored white. As I approached my destination, a solid white water drop on the map, I found dry stream beds and zero water. A moment of panic ensued as I had drank my last drops an hour ago and was counting on this source. Checking Guthooks app I saw a seasonal water source three miles ahead, the half filled drop symbol. I cross checked this information with my other source, Halfmile's app. It had the streams the other way around. The dry beds I stood over were marked as seasonal and the next source was shown as a reliable source. I completed the next three miles and found water and camping for the night. It upped my milage to 23 for the day, a bit more than I desired, especially on the heals of a 25 mile day. I quickly set out my Tyvek, sleeping pad and quilt, then lit my stove and cooked a huge dinner of chicken and mashed potatoes. It was supposed to be for both Sally and I, but I had inventoried food the previous evening and found I had been hoarding my stores and could afford to eat more at a few meals. This meal was a welcome one, nearly a quart of taters with chicken bits mixed in.
Shortly after I had finished eating Captain showed up, then Shutter. Before another hour had passed Happy Feet and 4 others were putting up their tents and cooking their dinners.
I was too fatigued to be sociable, so while these young men chatted and laughed I enjoyed listening to their camaraderie all curled up under my quilt. The extra miles I did this evening just meant an easier day tomorrow. I plotted out an 18 mile day to let my body get a chance to recover, then drifted off to sleep.
Thursday, July 3, 2014
We Meet Again - Wednesday, July 2
Today turned out to be a reunion . . . twice, one expected and one wholly unexpected.
Sally and I had fired up the new Ford Focus engine in our Vanagon last fall and headed for the National Parks of the desert southwest. Unfortunately, a large fire near Yosemite, our first destination, had closed the Tioga Pass road. If we wanted to get to The Valley we would need an alternate route to get from the east side of the Sierra to the west side. We picked Sonora Pass on Highway 108 to cross the Sierra, a route we had never taken before. Once at the pass we scouted where the PCT was, enjoyed some breakfast in the sun, then continued west to visit Kennedy Meadows North, a horse packing station and resort about 8 miles west of the pass. At the time we were at the pass I imagined what it would be like to hike the PCT through it, but never imagined it would be this year.
I had camped 11 miles short of the pass last night, at the last available water until just 1\2 mile short of the pass where Sardine creek is located. I was on the trail by 5:30 feeling strong after my long afternoon of rest the day before. I climbed the 1200 feet to gain the ridge, then climbed up and down as the trail wove from the east to west side of the crest and back again multiple times before finally descending into the pass, a welcome reunion. I arrived about 10:30 and had a kind day hiker take my picture in front of the highway sign. I then walked up to the parking\picnic area, excited to use the outhouse. With business completed, I found Jay Bird, Boots, Shutter and Captain hanging around a picnic table. I also found a trail angel had left food and gear on a nearby picnic table for us to take, although he was asking for donations. I walked over to the table, hoping to find some quick to eat energy or candy bars. There were none, but Captain was two steps in front of me and scored a box of cold cereal, Fruit Loops, that was unopened. As I turned around to walk back to the other table to sit and chat I got my second reunion, the unexpected one. There standing in front of me was Mover, our drunk, blood soaked, vomiting, retching, groaning and coughing neighbor from Morena Lake, day 2 of our adventure. He was clean and talkative, so we discussed trail lore and plans. He had not actually hiked to the pass. He was riding with the trail angel and helping him out, but spoke of plans to head to Washington now so as to hike that portion of the PCT to avoid the miserable weather that might hammer down in mid September. But first he was headed to the Sierra Music Festival in Quincy, CA for the 4th of July weekend. Meeting Mover was totally unexpected! He was certainly cleaner than the last time I saw him, and more sober, although he was on his second beer of the day and his eyes were bloodshot.
I spent about half an hour at the pass before heading out. I still had 14 miles to hike and needed to get going if I was to accomplish them before dark. The trail climbed up over the ridge north of the pass, then spent 6 miles descending down the East Carson River before climbing up out of the drainage and undulating along the top of the ridge to the west. While at the high point above the pass I acquired cell service, so I texted Sally a picture of Mover to share my reunion. I called her, and while on the phone spent 20 minutes troubleshooting the cranky WiFi at home that was not behaving properly.
My destination was a water source and flat area that looked good for camping at mile 1032, a 25 mile day. Captain and a new kid I met, Stranger were in front of me so I knew I would be passing them in the morning.
With day dwindling I found the creek and flat ground and quickly set up camp, cooked dinner and put Shoe Goo on the soles of my shoes, hoping to extend their life a bit more. The Asolo boots I wear are comfy and never give me blisters, but the rubber used on their soles is too soft and wears out quickly. The Shoe Goo adheres well and lasts for a week or more at which point I simply apply more.
The mosquitos were minimal at this site, but enough to cause me to hide under my quilt while I wrote my blog until after dark. The stars were magnificent through the soaring tall timber but sleep beckoned and my eyes soon shut. It was fun to enter Sonora Pass on the trail today, and fun to see Mover again as well, an event that had me smiling as I fell asleep.
A Note: In yesterday's blog I discussed dirt and how dirty we get on the trail. Feeling a bit self-conscience about my protestations I resolved to wash my shirt today. I found a wonderful waterfall mid afternoon in the hot sun, stripped off my shirt and washed it, without soap, in the roaring water. I beat it on some rocks to loosen the dirt and prepared to spread it on some rocks to dry. As I did, I noticed little black lines all over my shirt-leeches. My shirt was covered with leeches from the stream. Hmmm. No wonder I don't try to wash on the trail. I spent the next 5 minutes picking the little blood suckers off, put my wet shirt on to dry and cool me, and headed up the trail. So much for cleanliness.
Sally and I had fired up the new Ford Focus engine in our Vanagon last fall and headed for the National Parks of the desert southwest. Unfortunately, a large fire near Yosemite, our first destination, had closed the Tioga Pass road. If we wanted to get to The Valley we would need an alternate route to get from the east side of the Sierra to the west side. We picked Sonora Pass on Highway 108 to cross the Sierra, a route we had never taken before. Once at the pass we scouted where the PCT was, enjoyed some breakfast in the sun, then continued west to visit Kennedy Meadows North, a horse packing station and resort about 8 miles west of the pass. At the time we were at the pass I imagined what it would be like to hike the PCT through it, but never imagined it would be this year.
I had camped 11 miles short of the pass last night, at the last available water until just 1\2 mile short of the pass where Sardine creek is located. I was on the trail by 5:30 feeling strong after my long afternoon of rest the day before. I climbed the 1200 feet to gain the ridge, then climbed up and down as the trail wove from the east to west side of the crest and back again multiple times before finally descending into the pass, a welcome reunion. I arrived about 10:30 and had a kind day hiker take my picture in front of the highway sign. I then walked up to the parking\picnic area, excited to use the outhouse. With business completed, I found Jay Bird, Boots, Shutter and Captain hanging around a picnic table. I also found a trail angel had left food and gear on a nearby picnic table for us to take, although he was asking for donations. I walked over to the table, hoping to find some quick to eat energy or candy bars. There were none, but Captain was two steps in front of me and scored a box of cold cereal, Fruit Loops, that was unopened. As I turned around to walk back to the other table to sit and chat I got my second reunion, the unexpected one. There standing in front of me was Mover, our drunk, blood soaked, vomiting, retching, groaning and coughing neighbor from Morena Lake, day 2 of our adventure. He was clean and talkative, so we discussed trail lore and plans. He had not actually hiked to the pass. He was riding with the trail angel and helping him out, but spoke of plans to head to Washington now so as to hike that portion of the PCT to avoid the miserable weather that might hammer down in mid September. But first he was headed to the Sierra Music Festival in Quincy, CA for the 4th of July weekend. Meeting Mover was totally unexpected! He was certainly cleaner than the last time I saw him, and more sober, although he was on his second beer of the day and his eyes were bloodshot.
I spent about half an hour at the pass before heading out. I still had 14 miles to hike and needed to get going if I was to accomplish them before dark. The trail climbed up over the ridge north of the pass, then spent 6 miles descending down the East Carson River before climbing up out of the drainage and undulating along the top of the ridge to the west. While at the high point above the pass I acquired cell service, so I texted Sally a picture of Mover to share my reunion. I called her, and while on the phone spent 20 minutes troubleshooting the cranky WiFi at home that was not behaving properly.
My destination was a water source and flat area that looked good for camping at mile 1032, a 25 mile day. Captain and a new kid I met, Stranger were in front of me so I knew I would be passing them in the morning.
With day dwindling I found the creek and flat ground and quickly set up camp, cooked dinner and put Shoe Goo on the soles of my shoes, hoping to extend their life a bit more. The Asolo boots I wear are comfy and never give me blisters, but the rubber used on their soles is too soft and wears out quickly. The Shoe Goo adheres well and lasts for a week or more at which point I simply apply more.
The mosquitos were minimal at this site, but enough to cause me to hide under my quilt while I wrote my blog until after dark. The stars were magnificent through the soaring tall timber but sleep beckoned and my eyes soon shut. It was fun to enter Sonora Pass on the trail today, and fun to see Mover again as well, an event that had me smiling as I fell asleep.
A Note: In yesterday's blog I discussed dirt and how dirty we get on the trail. Feeling a bit self-conscience about my protestations I resolved to wash my shirt today. I found a wonderful waterfall mid afternoon in the hot sun, stripped off my shirt and washed it, without soap, in the roaring water. I beat it on some rocks to loosen the dirt and prepared to spread it on some rocks to dry. As I did, I noticed little black lines all over my shirt-leeches. My shirt was covered with leeches from the stream. Hmmm. No wonder I don't try to wash on the trail. I spent the next 5 minutes picking the little blood suckers off, put my wet shirt on to dry and cool me, and headed up the trail. So much for cleanliness.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Dirt - Tuesday, July 1
"Life is maintenance, then you die."
We all have a constant string of maintenance tasks in front of us. Mow the lawn. Clean the bathrooms. Vacuum the carpets. Wash the car. Make the bed. Change the oil. Launder the clothes. Paint the house. Buy new tires. Do the dishes. It seems the list goes on forever.
As adults we accept this aspect of life, but as kids it comes as a rude disruption to the more important activity of life, play.
"Why do I have to make my bed every morning? I'm just going to unmake it tonight when I go to sleep?"
"Why put my toys away tonight? I'll just get them out again in the morning?"
"Why do I have to take a bath? I'm just going to get dirty tomorrow."
After 3 months of hiking I find myself asking these same types of questions, and see my fellow PCTers obviously answering them with their actions.
We stink. I mean BO to the max. So, why don't we wash daily? One answer is that there is no infrastructure when hiking that supports ready cleaning. No shower. No hot water. No soap (soap is taboo out here because it pollutes the streams and lakes). No bath towels (too heavy). And in the case of the desert portion, no water.
The other answer is the same as a child's. What's the point? I quit hiking at 6:00. Camp gets set up and dinner cooked and it is 7:30. If
I have water, a method of carrying it away from its source and some way of drying myself I can get clean. But, my clothes are still filthy. Am I to put my clean body in filthy clothes? And within 15 minutes of the start of hiking in the morning I am sweaty and stinky again and will compile the sweat for 12 hours of hiking. So we just stink. And are filthy.
After I hitch hiked from
Mammoth Lakes to Touloumne I exited the car right in front of the thru hiker's tables where some hikers I did not know were seated, sorting their resupply boxes and talking. I introduced myself as a fellow thru hiker. They stared in disbelief and then asked why I was so clean. Cleanliness is what separates a thru hiker from the rest of the population. Too clean and you are shunned. An outsider. Not one of the clan.
So how do you tell if someone is a thru hiker or a homeless person? The labels. Look at a thru hiker's filthy clothes and you will see beneath the dirt Patagonia, North Face, Ascent, Mountain Hardware, Marmot, Mont Bell, and other logos on their expensive clothes. Those logos are missing on a homeless person. Another characteristic can be seen when you look at their dirty faces. Their eyes are alive with the excitement of life. Animated. Twinkling. Excited.
I swam twice yesterday. Once in a lake. Once a dunk in a river. No soap. I wiped myself down with my hands. The cold water felt good in the middle of the hot day. Then I slipped my filthy clothes on, shouldered my pack and within 10 minutes was sweating up the trail. Refreshing, but not cleansing.
I woke at 5 this morning and was on the trail by 5:45. It took a little longer to break camp this morning because I put up a tarp last night. Thunderstorms were booming away to the east as I set up camp and I didn't want to get up in the middle of the night to erect my tarp if they came overhead, so as a preventative act I slung it up last night.
I had the preferred breakfast of the thru hikers, Pop Tarts. 400 calories, no cooking and can be munched on while breaking camp.
There was dew on the grasses of the meadows I traversed, signaling that there is still moisture in the air. If clouds begin to appear in our crystal blue sky before noon there is a good possibility thunderheads will form. I put my raincoat (Mountain Hardware) on top as I packed.
I passed some unfamiliar tents next to the trail as I hiked by in the early morning light. Later in the day I met their occupants as they passed me, Jay Bird and Boots, a 50 something couple from Maine; Pine Cone and Wind Song, two 20 something girls, a graphic designer and a chemist, both from Portland and Shutter and Captain who I have been leap frogging for our third day.
Just before lunch we reached a milestone on the trail, the 1000th mile from Mexico. Pine Cone and Wind Song did a song and dance routine to celebrate the moment. Very cute. It is fun to think back at all the adventures we have had over those 1000 miles.
I camped at mile 1007.4 while everyone else hiked another five miles. I had covered 18 miles for the day and there was no water in the next 10. I did not want to attempt a 28 mile day nor lug water to dry camp nor gain the 1200' the trail immediately climbed so I camped near the last creek and waited until morning to tackle the hill and dry distance.
It was only 3:30, a very early arrival time. Mostly, I relaxed and caught up on my blogging. I also washed socks, shirt and underwear in the creek.
The mosquitoes were greatly diminished now that we had traversed Dorothy Lake Pass and were on the dry eastern side of the Sierra.
The stars were magnificent through the trees. Tomorrow, I hope to do 25 miles to put me very near an even 60 miles from South Lake Tahoe. Right now I am 85 miles away. At 20 miles a day, I will arrive Sunday morning for my hitch to the Reno airport.
I need a day or two to shower, scrub myself and launder clothes before I get on a plane. It will take some effort to remove three months of stink.
We all have a constant string of maintenance tasks in front of us. Mow the lawn. Clean the bathrooms. Vacuum the carpets. Wash the car. Make the bed. Change the oil. Launder the clothes. Paint the house. Buy new tires. Do the dishes. It seems the list goes on forever.
As adults we accept this aspect of life, but as kids it comes as a rude disruption to the more important activity of life, play.
"Why do I have to make my bed every morning? I'm just going to unmake it tonight when I go to sleep?"
"Why put my toys away tonight? I'll just get them out again in the morning?"
"Why do I have to take a bath? I'm just going to get dirty tomorrow."
After 3 months of hiking I find myself asking these same types of questions, and see my fellow PCTers obviously answering them with their actions.
We stink. I mean BO to the max. So, why don't we wash daily? One answer is that there is no infrastructure when hiking that supports ready cleaning. No shower. No hot water. No soap (soap is taboo out here because it pollutes the streams and lakes). No bath towels (too heavy). And in the case of the desert portion, no water.
The other answer is the same as a child's. What's the point? I quit hiking at 6:00. Camp gets set up and dinner cooked and it is 7:30. If
I have water, a method of carrying it away from its source and some way of drying myself I can get clean. But, my clothes are still filthy. Am I to put my clean body in filthy clothes? And within 15 minutes of the start of hiking in the morning I am sweaty and stinky again and will compile the sweat for 12 hours of hiking. So we just stink. And are filthy.
After I hitch hiked from
Mammoth Lakes to Touloumne I exited the car right in front of the thru hiker's tables where some hikers I did not know were seated, sorting their resupply boxes and talking. I introduced myself as a fellow thru hiker. They stared in disbelief and then asked why I was so clean. Cleanliness is what separates a thru hiker from the rest of the population. Too clean and you are shunned. An outsider. Not one of the clan.
So how do you tell if someone is a thru hiker or a homeless person? The labels. Look at a thru hiker's filthy clothes and you will see beneath the dirt Patagonia, North Face, Ascent, Mountain Hardware, Marmot, Mont Bell, and other logos on their expensive clothes. Those logos are missing on a homeless person. Another characteristic can be seen when you look at their dirty faces. Their eyes are alive with the excitement of life. Animated. Twinkling. Excited.
I swam twice yesterday. Once in a lake. Once a dunk in a river. No soap. I wiped myself down with my hands. The cold water felt good in the middle of the hot day. Then I slipped my filthy clothes on, shouldered my pack and within 10 minutes was sweating up the trail. Refreshing, but not cleansing.
I woke at 5 this morning and was on the trail by 5:45. It took a little longer to break camp this morning because I put up a tarp last night. Thunderstorms were booming away to the east as I set up camp and I didn't want to get up in the middle of the night to erect my tarp if they came overhead, so as a preventative act I slung it up last night.
I had the preferred breakfast of the thru hikers, Pop Tarts. 400 calories, no cooking and can be munched on while breaking camp.
There was dew on the grasses of the meadows I traversed, signaling that there is still moisture in the air. If clouds begin to appear in our crystal blue sky before noon there is a good possibility thunderheads will form. I put my raincoat (Mountain Hardware) on top as I packed.
I passed some unfamiliar tents next to the trail as I hiked by in the early morning light. Later in the day I met their occupants as they passed me, Jay Bird and Boots, a 50 something couple from Maine; Pine Cone and Wind Song, two 20 something girls, a graphic designer and a chemist, both from Portland and Shutter and Captain who I have been leap frogging for our third day.
Just before lunch we reached a milestone on the trail, the 1000th mile from Mexico. Pine Cone and Wind Song did a song and dance routine to celebrate the moment. Very cute. It is fun to think back at all the adventures we have had over those 1000 miles.
I camped at mile 1007.4 while everyone else hiked another five miles. I had covered 18 miles for the day and there was no water in the next 10. I did not want to attempt a 28 mile day nor lug water to dry camp nor gain the 1200' the trail immediately climbed so I camped near the last creek and waited until morning to tackle the hill and dry distance.
It was only 3:30, a very early arrival time. Mostly, I relaxed and caught up on my blogging. I also washed socks, shirt and underwear in the creek.
The mosquitoes were greatly diminished now that we had traversed Dorothy Lake Pass and were on the dry eastern side of the Sierra.
The stars were magnificent through the trees. Tomorrow, I hope to do 25 miles to put me very near an even 60 miles from South Lake Tahoe. Right now I am 85 miles away. At 20 miles a day, I will arrive Sunday morning for my hitch to the Reno airport.
I need a day or two to shower, scrub myself and launder clothes before I get on a plane. It will take some effort to remove three months of stink.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Approaching Interface - Monday, June 30
I can feel its presence even though it is 6 days away. It is already beginning to influence my thoughts, my decisions, my pace and even my camping locations. It is like a magnetic force field, unseen and influencing me over a distance.
For nearly three months, time has not been an issue. With what seemed like limitless weeks before us, we did as we pleased. A few extra days here to recover? No problem. Hike a short day. Sure. But, now I have to time my distances and camping spots to meet the unseen influence. It is the upcoming interface. I have to transition from trail to town. Worse yet, I have to do it on schedule to meet a plane reservation. The interface is not just a transition between locations. It is a transition between ways of life, trail life to town life.
Last night at Smedberg Lake I again plotted distances to be covered and time to do it in. I am not used to 20 mile days, so when I see I have 120 miles left to cover and only 6 days to do it in I have to review the maps and elevation changes to assure myself that this is possible. But, here it is, Monday night and I am camped at mile 989. Hwy 50 into South Lake Tahoe, my destination is at mile 1093, so I now have just over 104 miles to go, and 5 days to do it in. Three nights ago I was at Duck Lake, mile 895 with 198 miles to go, but my 18 miles of hiking and 35.8 miles of hitching around trail I had already hiked moved me to mile 942.5 Saturday night, 150.5 miles to go. Sunday's 20 miles to Smedberg shortened the distance to 130 and today's 20 brought the total to about 110 (a fair amount of rounding is going on here).
I really have 7 days to get to Hwy 50, but I want this interface to have a big buffer in case the impedance encountered at the interface is high (an injury that slows me down, trouble hitching a ride to town, get on wrong trail and have to backtrack, equipment failure, etc). So I am shooting for five days.
Today was an up and down day. From Smedberg Lake I descended 1700' into Benson Lake basin, then climbed 1800' to Seavey Pass, then dropped 1200' to Kerrick Canyon, then climbed 1200' only to drop 2000' to Wilmer Lake. The terrain was breathtaking with granite mountains and ridges surrounding idyllic lakes and streams. Most of the terrain was wooded, a sharp contrast to the High Sierra I passed through a week ago with its meadows and barren passes at 12,000 feet. Wilmer Lake was particularly beautiful with marshes, trees, cliffs and a river running right by it. The marshes must have been particularly efficient mosquito breeding grounds for the clouds of these pesky bugs were particularly dense.
I set up camp on a rock outcrop hoping to catch some wind and remove myself from the bugs, but to no avail. I had to sleep with my head net on to keep the critters from sucking me dry. Come to think of it, maybe I am looking forward to this interface. I don't remember getting bitten by mosquitoes in an airplane.
For nearly three months, time has not been an issue. With what seemed like limitless weeks before us, we did as we pleased. A few extra days here to recover? No problem. Hike a short day. Sure. But, now I have to time my distances and camping spots to meet the unseen influence. It is the upcoming interface. I have to transition from trail to town. Worse yet, I have to do it on schedule to meet a plane reservation. The interface is not just a transition between locations. It is a transition between ways of life, trail life to town life.
Last night at Smedberg Lake I again plotted distances to be covered and time to do it in. I am not used to 20 mile days, so when I see I have 120 miles left to cover and only 6 days to do it in I have to review the maps and elevation changes to assure myself that this is possible. But, here it is, Monday night and I am camped at mile 989. Hwy 50 into South Lake Tahoe, my destination is at mile 1093, so I now have just over 104 miles to go, and 5 days to do it in. Three nights ago I was at Duck Lake, mile 895 with 198 miles to go, but my 18 miles of hiking and 35.8 miles of hitching around trail I had already hiked moved me to mile 942.5 Saturday night, 150.5 miles to go. Sunday's 20 miles to Smedberg shortened the distance to 130 and today's 20 brought the total to about 110 (a fair amount of rounding is going on here).
I really have 7 days to get to Hwy 50, but I want this interface to have a big buffer in case the impedance encountered at the interface is high (an injury that slows me down, trouble hitching a ride to town, get on wrong trail and have to backtrack, equipment failure, etc). So I am shooting for five days.
Today was an up and down day. From Smedberg Lake I descended 1700' into Benson Lake basin, then climbed 1800' to Seavey Pass, then dropped 1200' to Kerrick Canyon, then climbed 1200' only to drop 2000' to Wilmer Lake. The terrain was breathtaking with granite mountains and ridges surrounding idyllic lakes and streams. Most of the terrain was wooded, a sharp contrast to the High Sierra I passed through a week ago with its meadows and barren passes at 12,000 feet. Wilmer Lake was particularly beautiful with marshes, trees, cliffs and a river running right by it. The marshes must have been particularly efficient mosquito breeding grounds for the clouds of these pesky bugs were particularly dense.
I set up camp on a rock outcrop hoping to catch some wind and remove myself from the bugs, but to no avail. I had to sleep with my head net on to keep the critters from sucking me dry. Come to think of it, maybe I am looking forward to this interface. I don't remember getting bitten by mosquitoes in an airplane.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
