Day 40
Miles Hiked :: 4.2
Made Camp At: 460.6
I lost a bunch of pictures and notes last week and have been real defeated about it but I’m ready to jump back in. Hopefully someday I’ll be able to find it all backed up online somewhere but until then I’ll be breif and say::
Deep Creek is gorgeous and if you are within a ten hour drive of Deep Creek Springs I HIGHLY recommend spending a weekend or a week or the rest of your life out there. Might turn to bushwacking after this venture and post up there for the foreseeable future. What I don’t recommend is hiking 21 miles when you know your feet should be getting babied.
Also, we miss Ruth! I’m so grateful I got to spend so much time with her and was sad to part ways. (You can always like… Come back… Just saying).
Also, because my feet really took a beating I had to hitch around some unwalkable miles and reevaluate my foot wear dramatically. I traded out my beloved La Sportivas for Chacos and I’m around 70 miles into walking in those. It kind of feels like my feet are being broken in as much as the sandals are but it’s a vast improvement from swollen toes and loose toenails. (If anyone wants to start a pool towards a hotel room in Tehachapi by gambling on which toenails I lose first…I’ll live stream the removal…just sayin…could get interesting….). I’ll probably do a hiker health post or something some time and go into what happened but I’ll save the drama for that.
Aside from all of that and more, Caiti and I are each starting to break out of our shells and actually socialize with the 30+ folks we’ve been on trail with the last month and we’ve settled into our trail names – Im “Boomhauer”, Caiti is “Grown”. In a sea of femmes with predominantly cutesy or snack related names I feel like we really lucked out.
So to just dive right back into things – on day 40 we caught a ride out of Agua Dulce with a fellow by the name of “Room Service” in a dope jeep and skipped a couple miles of unpleasant road walking while being incredibly tactless and honking and heckling our trail companions more committed to the ~full PCT experience~
Outside of town the trail led out across and up into some grassy hillcountry. The sun had finally returned after days of cold, cloudy, snowy and rainy weather and along with it the snakes and lizards. I saw a gorgeous striped racer about two and a half feet long slither across the trail and up into a spray of yucca needles and I let loose an excited and startled “aaaah!” as it passed.
Weighed down with a 10 day food carry the short 4 mile climb felt a little arduous but knowing that we have nowhere to be quickly I took my time.
“Is Boom moving or resting?” Caiti asked a passing hiker, I learned later.
“They looked ….busy with something.” He replied.
I always pack like the house is burning down when we leave town – I don’t know why. While out on the trail everything goes in its place and I pack thoughtfully but three miles on trail I realized my trowel and TP where at the bottom of my pack. Won’t make that mistake twice.
In the rush i also frequently skip on basic things like making sure I’m in cleanish socks to start the day off with as little friction as possible – socks? Also, at the bottom of my pack.
With all that business settled I started up the 1500 ft climb towards tent sites and water. I stopped at a switchback to catch my breath and a hiker I’ve been leapfrogging since the wind farm, Red Leg, caught up with me. About thirty feet from where I was sitting he let out a howl and started yelling at what I assumed were bees. A good cue for a break.
“Heard you got a tent. Moving on up!” Red Leg said after settling in.
“I did! I have a home!”
“Bet you held onto the tyvek though, didn’t you?” He asked with a knowing smirk.
“Well, I cut a footprint from it but I did hug it and thank it for keeping me dry actually!” I laughed.
Another hiker – Columbia, had hiker boxed (where folks drop off unwanted food and gear for others to make use of) his Big Agnes Fly Creek UL1 after it ripped in some mild wind and he had a really poor interaction with their customer service reps. Goat Disco, another hiker that had been intrigued by my diy tarp tent scooped it up and brought it over where Caiti and I were packing up. He and I had talked a fair amount the night prior about a wide range of subjects (amongst them – diy gear). I was really touched that he had thought to snag the tent for me and he said he figured I’d be able to patch it up well enough if I wanted to.
And that’s how I came by my new home! A quick stitch n she was good enough for hiker trash the likes of me anyway.
At the other end of the switchback I left Red Leg at I found Caiti and Fast Cash chatting at a tent site looking out over the valley. I joined them and Caiti and I decided that we may as well settle in there and leave ourselves a healthy 17 mile hike into Casa de Luna tomorrow.
This stretch is interesting – lots of Trail Angel hostels and loads of hikers none too rushed to reach the snow locked Sierra Nevada.
I’m curious what the next few hundred miles have in store. My routine is getting shaken up. My hermetic reverie is being disturbed and challenged constantly…it’s an adjustment.
We’re also nearly to mile 500 of the PCT. An achievement that even a month ago, already on trail, felt wildly intimidating and even unreachable. 500 miles…somehow feels…like chump change now. Not because it was easy, but because it was so very possible. And because the scale of this whole event is gaining some perspective. I told myself going in that i’d try to at least do 500 miles. So what now?!
My body hurts in new ways everyday. My body feels powerful in new ways with every new challenge. I. Eat. So. Much. And new challenges rear up just as the last crisis has finally been managed (where else can I blister…I mean really, this is getting to be a bit much).
Somehow through everything there has never been a moment I’ve wanted to quit. Quitting is my favorite thing ever, everyone close to me knows this well. Its one of the only ways I know how to set boundaries and it usually feels very just and very freeing and rejuvenating. With this….I’m learning some painful lessons about boundaries and limits and that feels very freeing and rejuvenating and incredibly challenging. The importance of both routine and flexibility is paramount. My need for quiet spaces to settle into myself has to somehow exist beside such extreme physical and social exposure and engagement. Without any of these often opposing needs the whole gig crumbles, I start to slip out of the present moment and fade to a dull lethargy or maybe worse I start edging the dial towards the 11 of manic frenzy. Out here the consequences on my body and mind are immediate and potentially dangerous. Which is exhilarating and scary. Who put me in charge of this sack of blood piss and tears anyway?!
I suppose a lot of folks are out here finding themselves in some way. I feel like I’m finding my body. Finding my way into my body and figuring out the wiring. After years of striving to find in and create a home of my own flesh and bones – one that I carry with me always – this all feels like very big and important work. I don’t always like it but it’s a big feeling that does feel good to hold. And even through the many aches and pains it feels really good to be present and at home in my body.
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