It was harrowing being at the border with patrols overhead and trucks of cops kickin dust up all around us. A lot to think about given the leisurely nature of our own trek and the bounty of care and friendliness and organization of the folks we cross paths with supporting vacationing hikers on and off trail. It’s hard to swallow that one sided kindness. As i take in and relish the beauty around me and the care from everyone supporting us, this disparity weighs heavy. I really encourage everyone to jump over to our donation and support page and consider donating something to Border relief and support organizations linked there!
Heading into the foothills the terrain leaving Campo was stunning beyond words. The lushness of the desert is a beautiful thing to be immersed in. Wildflowers countless as stars. Lizards and snake friends skittering ahead down the trail and leaping from picturesque rockscapes that frame views on views of the land and trail before and behind us.
With an easy 7mi start we snagged this picturesque camping spot and settled into trail life. The neighbors are agreeable here. Ruth and I went on a water run and found the stream we had passed to be a surprising distance behind us. We passed 3-4 hikers on our way there. One has been mostly keeping pace with us, the others passed on or fell behind. We relaxed all evening and I fumbled with my bivy and makeshift poly cryo rainfly with a forecast of light rain in the wee morning hours. That rain turned out to be a tease but it was good to learn where I stood gear-wise.
Overcast and misty weather made for perfect hiking Day 2 is and kept me cool on my 2mile backtrack to pick up my dropped phone 🙈. The views were stunning all day despite the fog and it was easy to pick out the trail on the ridge across the way.
Before getting there however we broke midday to rest and we were caught up by a group of 20ish hikers out of Scout and Frodo’s that had started that morning. As they descended on the watering-hole campground I had laid down to nap at, we decided to push on into the coming rain for something more quaint. We passed a few too-small and/or occupied sites which extended our mileage out of necessity and eventually landed at a very cute spot under a large pacific madrone that simultaneously shielded us from rain and also somehow extended the suffering via the shivering leaves yielding their burden to the wind and continuing to soak us. All the moisture really brought the colors of the rock and flora out though, which wasn’t lost on me even in moments of type B and C Fun.
After a hard night in the bivy with the rain a new rain cover will have to be devised before that becomes a recurrent condition. However, one of the many wonders this trail is offering me is a lesson in letting the tough and hard and unpleasant things happen…and recognizing when they stop happening. The rain overnight gave us more misty cool morning views for our descent to Lake Morena on day 3 where we passed on coin showers, didn’t pass on hashbrowns and fries, and again set out ahead of the gaggle of sociable hikers we’ve been leap frogging.
As the high heat of noon set in on us we flopped down in the shade under some brush and pulled out our soggy gear to dry. Caiti was really living for this @pattiegonia inspired moment, and we all appreciated the pretty immediate reset the desert provides after a downpour. We PNWers might get a little spoiled on this treatment. After a hot sandy slog through scotch and sage brush we encountered our first trail angels in a jovial pair going by Bobo and Cocopuff and downed hotdogs, soda and a couple beers before….ditching the party for more hermit-y digs three miles up into the hills. As we left they commented on the brevity of our stay – we’re developing our own trail names for them and I’m sure they’re doing the same for us…one can’t help but wonder. They’ll outpace us soon though.
Leaving the party, walking a road and crossing to head back to the hills, I thought it’s funny how close you are to civ at all times. Folks say that but rarely show it when you’re researching this whole gig. The trail hugged a road and was sandwiched by fencing as we passed under the freeway roaring overhead. I guess it’s less romantic to be on a trail for four to six months if you acknowledge the highway beside you but there’s something I like about it. It’s real I guess to put it simply. There isn’t an escape but there are other ways to travel the same inevitable route? That sounds cliche af. You can deal with it though. This is a thru-hiker blog after all.
To make up for the prior night of claustrophobic bivy-rain misery I was gifted this idyllic view and perfect weather for cowboy camping under the stars in the foothills overlooking the freeway we had just walked under. No complaints here. (Despite those swollen ankles…oof!)
I can learn to be a little more patient with the hard moments ahead given a counterweight like this.
My charge ran out on day 4 and this is the only picture I got. That little swimming hole below was the best thing we came across all day, though at 9am and only 2 miles into a 12 mile day we begrudgingly passed it by and spent the day in a hot desert march to the outskirts of Mount Laguna. The terrain got rough and rocky – an ankle roll away from tragedy and our first large ascent. The desert asserted its drab and rough stereotype and my periphery scanned for the scaled and fanged would-be branches, shadows and rock formations that might be displeased by the tak-tak-tak of trekking poles and my breathy off key renditions of any and every song I could recall from memory (more or less). The motivating word for most of the day was “Get miles. Get there.”
One of my favorite things so far is how difficult this whole endeavor is physically. My body is being pushed right to its limits. Yet, because so much lies ahead – it makes no sense to disrespect that limit. I’m learning a lot about my body – a body I have a hard time being present in usually. A post on my lack of prep and training is pending – I neglect myself in many ways and that’s a focus of this trip – the physical aspect being the most palpable and immediate to address.
Now, day 5 – I’m sitting outside the cafe in Mount Laguna. 40 miles into my trip without a single blister. Aware of burgeoning stressors and inflammation (hello tendinitis!), but pausing to accrue wisdom and resources. Also to simply rest and enjoy the place we are in, the wonderful friends we have that are taking time from their lives to join us in this in whatever capacity, and to appreciate allllllll of that.
Here at Mount Laguna our wonderful Blazing Salads Country Fair family member Kika met us with our own exclusive top-tier Trail Angel spread of vegan muffins, a whole watermelon, cured meats and cheese, hard cider, fruit, kombucha, fresh veggies, foam rollers and muscle cream – literally everything a tired dirty hiker could want for. She left for work after making us coffee and tea and we spent the day doing bucket laundry, taking showers, organizing our resupply and addressing blisters. In the evening we made chalupas and caught up with Kika when she joined us again after work. Sleep came easy resting on loaner memory foam pillows and in the morning Kika made us pancakes and oatmeal and gave me a foot care 101 and rubdown to ease some minor tendon discomfort. The bar has been set impossibly high in the Trail Angel department ya’ll, and we aren’t surprised in the least. Heading out of Laguna Kika is gonna hike with us a bit. We’re planning on a short 5mile jog to get back in the groove and our next check in will probably be about six days out in Warner Springs if all goes well.
I couldn’t be more pleased with this experience so far. It’s challenging in so many many ways. I really prepared for disaster and have been met with the most dreamy yet challenging experience I honestly couldn’t even imagine. This. Feels. So. Good. I’d forgotten life could be like this. So bring on the tears and blisters, I’ll still savor these moments for a very long time.
See ya’ll down the trail!
xo B
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