Day 16-18 :: Idyllwild
Spent the better part of three days in Idyllwild (two neros and one zero).
We got a hitch into town from Ryan, a class of ’18 hiker. Had a hot breakfast at the Mile High Cafe and planned on walking to a lodge to split a room but Carla, a local artist pulled over and told us to get in.
She explained that rooms would be filling up and that she would drive us around to make sure we found something with a vacancy. Caiti got in some good pup snugs.
Other cute dogs encountered: Max the Mayor of Idyllwild (not pictured) and Hank here who was hanging out at the Silver Pines. I was giving him a good scratch and when I read his name tag aloud HE PUT HIS PAW OUT FOR A SHAKE AND THEN TURNED AND WALKED INSIDE. What a smooth boy.
We sprang for the last open suite at the Silver Pines (thanks to generous donations from the wonderful folks following our journey – you’re truly keeping us sane and occasionally bathed 💕)
We expected two packages in town – the first from @kikaczm containing supplies and snacks we bounced from San Diego – our breakfast cereal came upgraded with sweet encouragement. We also received our micro spikes and ice axes – axes got bounced to Kennedy Meadows and the micro spikes came in handy once we got up on San Jacinto.
I’ve had a little cloud hanging over my head because one of my intentions going into this trip was to paint and I just haven’t found the time on the trail. Waiting for packages in Idyllwild provided the downtime I needed to break the seal and fifteen days of photos and views is the reservoir of inspiration I needed to comfortably start putting paintbrush to paper. I’m excited ya’ll.
Interestingly enough, as I make these first moves on the largest cohesive body of work I’ve ever attempted to create, I had the incredibly uncomfortable experience of bringing up a painful memory I shoved deep into the back of my brain regarding the arts and THIS town.
I’m extremely grateful for the privilege I’m experiencing and to have this time to invest in myself and the space to find room to give myself to an interest that gets pushed to the margins and ignored otherwise. I am teary eyed thinking of every person who has helped me find and create that space in my life. It’s a wildly sensitive thing for me and I hope you all enjoy your postcards <3
Our third day in town we finally escaped the vortex that is Idyllwild. After picking up our resupply and repacking our bags we started looking at our route back into the mountains . While sitting outside the post office a fellow named Charlie asked if we were coming or going. “Heading out in a few minutes here.” I responded. “Well, I’ve got to drop this off at the post office and go to the grocery store real quick but I won’t be long” he said and turned to leave, “Wait, are you offering us a ride?” Ruth asked. “That’s how that usually works, yes.” Charlie replied.
Charlie turned out to be a local Trail Angel who provides a great deal for the PCT community there in Idyllwild – housing and feeding healing hikers and providing rides. I’m really glad we got to meet him and his sweet pup.
On the way to the trailhead he showed us one of the areas hidden gems – ancestral drawings, preserved on the underside of a massive boulder and protected as a park nestled amidst the mountain neighborhood.
I’ll amend this with details on those when I get the chance to do it justice. Charlie didn’t know the specifics.
Once at the trailhead Charlie wished us well and returned to his day and we set off up Devils Slide.
A short but not so quick and definitely brutal climb put us back on trail. I was struggling, resting at the corner of each switch back, waiting until my breathing finally slowed and my leg muscles stopped trembling to continue on. After reaching the trail we had another scramble upwards and I started to wonder: Am I cut out for this life?
This kind of trail was everything I feared going into this trip.
At mile point 180.2 we got our first sight of snow on trail. Soon we stopped to put on micro spikes.
I haven’t done much snow hiking so the novelty of it all broke through my fatigue and after a short chunk of snowed over trail, conditions eased up and we switched back to bare trail runners.
As my spirit began to sink at the thought of endless arduous miles of ankle rolling, ground watching, stair climbing inclines….the trail evened out…and began to descend steadily. But that was just the beginning.
Expletives poured out of my mouth as the pines parted and buttresses of mountain boulders and peaks dappled with snow came into view, waves of pale blue ranges stretching out into the horizon.
“Who told me I could do this? Who gave me the right?!” I asked no one in particular – awash in awe of this magic before me.
“You did!” Replied Caiti. “You did this, you got here!”
The sun was warm and the breeze cool. Melting pockets of shady snow sent ice cold rivulets of fresh water trickling across trail and rock.
Its a strange feeling – I feel truly undeserving of all this beauty. And that’s kind of a problem right? I feel like it’s some hard and rough sad guy shit – feeling undeserving of beauty. Undeserving of happiness. I walked the next couple miles brimming with tears, a grin painted on my face.
“Step out of time and into beauty” I said to myself “you are happy, don’t let them hide it from you”.
It’s an excerpt from a letter I wrote myself from Wolf Creek in Oregon a few summer back when I was returning to the desert of Arizona. It’s become something I try to recite every morning back home. Other snippets have come to mind out here and maybe I’ll share them at some point. This trail is really driving it’s message home and I’m so intensely grateful for that.
Together we made camp at a dreamy western facing lookout scattered with pines and washes of worn rock. We watched the sun set and as darkness fell the cities below glittered into view, no longer obscured by low hanging clouds.
From here it’s pretty, all those golden sparkling lights. It’s easy to forgive this sprawling destruction and the violence it inflicts on every facet of our lives…of life altogether. Out here that doesn’t have to make me sad today. Instead I marvel at the glittering golden lights blinking below the deep orange horizon and dusky blue black sky that is starting to blink back with stars and planes and satellites.
This is god damn gorgeous.
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