Day: 51.
Mikes Hiked: 6.6
Mile Camped: 573.1
It was hard to leave my bed and harder to face the heat knowing there’s a windy 1000ft climb heading out of town.
Grown and Flip headed out by 10am and I stayed and tidied the hotel room and reorganized my pack. Heartbreakingly I left my trekking poles and sun umbrella in one of our hitches around town which gave me all the more reason to want to night hike the dry and steep 17 miles to the first water source.
After checking out I wandered down the downtown strip and posted up at the bakery in the shade to nibble on another Nougat
Though it was sitting at about 80 degrees I got antsy in town (Grown and I have been swapping the mantle of part of Ruth’s contribution to the the triad) and after hanging back while two larger groups of hikers hitched out to the trailhead I followed suit. A local woman got me to the on ramp in town and within ten minutes or so (hat and sunglasses off) Robert pulled over in a beautiful yellow Wagoneer. I’d seen him leaving the home depot across the street, his pup perched next to him with its paw on the steering wheel (no joke!) and had made a wish in my heart that he’d give me a ride. I tossed my pack in the gutted back and climbed onto the tattered seat next to Pete, his dog. He wasn’t headed that way and had to stop for gas but he did me the kindness of delivering me to the trailhead and wished me well.
I’m grateful to have had such an exceptional history of hitching and to feel capable and sure enough to continue utilizing this means of travel even when (and especially) solo. I started hitching alone and desperate under truly horrifying conditions and I guess part of me feels stronger and more capable with each hitch in some kind of way. Don’t get me wrong, I know where my weapons are and think about exit strategies in almost every ride – certainly when I’m alone – and I feel like a damn bad ass everytime I hitch alone. It actually hasn’t ever gotten old for me. I also consider it a skill that I really have in the bag and it helps me feel more sure footed in an unsure world knowing I have that to rely on.
From the 58 the trail hugged the highway for a couple miles. The day was still hot at five and halfway along there was a water cache with a smattering of ancient Joshua trees where a couple other hikers were taking refuge in the shade.
I hadn’t planned on hiking before about 6 and settled in to discuss the creatures we’ve seen so far on trail and what our target milage was for the day. I’d decided if there was water on trail I’d put a liter and half down to start out good n hydrated so I pulled out snacks and settled in.
Just as I was getting ready to roll out some of the Riff Raff crew came through. Gravy, Superman and I set off down the trail stopping to polish off the end of a pint of hiker box whiskey.
Their crew stopped to camp as the daylight faded and I continued on.
I had intended to power through the 17 miles to water overnight but the thought of trying to readjust my sleeping schedule afterwards and the dust filled wind in my headlamp convinced me to settle in at the top of the 2100ft climb back into the mountains.
I like night hiking and if miles were a priority I’d probably switch to that exclusively, but I was lucky I had enough sunset to frame the views I would have missed otherwise. Pictures can’t do them justice.
I cowboy camped knowing my tent would only cause me more grief than it was worth on the windy ridge and figuring the rising sun would help motivate me in the morning.
Day: 52.
Miles Hiked: 10.7
Mile Camped: 583.8
The sunrise was less than motivating and it was only when I saw superman and flower hike by that I finally got myself together.
I forced down a few bars and a zebra roll for breakfast, wanting to save time and get moving by 8am. The soundtrack of the day was Sarah Mclaughlin and maybe I spent the first five miles choking back some weird cathartic tears.
I had a revelation about this whole dang thing that was pretty fucking heavy and heartbreaking:
I did this to punish myself. I expected to be miserable out here and I looked forward to taking some pictures and framing it in a way that looked bad ass or whatever but at the heart of it all I thought I’d found a way to seamlessly integrate the worst of my self destruction. A way to isolate myself and a way to physically punish myself for….I’m not sure I could even put a finger on all of what the punishment is for. For not being able to function and take care of myself in the world the way capitalism and social norms demand. For not being able to provide and show up for the people I love materially or emotionally. Maybe I felt like I needed to fail at this to prove how incapable I truly am. Maybe I thought if I failed at this I would finally give up on the extreme brand of isolation and independance that’s gotten me through life but hasn’t provided much joy. Maybe I thought I could beat it out of myself.
Turns out I can do the hard work of learning about and conceptualizing healing even alone and unresourced. Turns out I can talk about it endlessly. However, unlearning these things in my body and actually applying that knowledge in my lifestyle and habits is a whole other ballgame. This mission of self destruction isn’t the internal or external narrative I have had around this trip. But it’s the truth. It’s hard to get out of my own head or even into my own head in some regards. And it’s clear I can’t beat myself into submission.
I’m grateful this trail has been kinder to me than I have been to myself. Another lesson to take to heart.
More often than not these days my tears are tears of a kind of joy – not an easy joy but a hard won joy. The joy of learning and growth and release. I’m also grateful for that.
As I reflected on all of this I stopped to write and rest and elevate my feet before the next climb…
A couple came hiking up with a Bluetooth speaker blaring. They sat down at the other end of the grove of pines I was lounging in…
I remembered why I isolate myself.
The afternoon passed slowly, the desert uncomfortably muggy on top of the 85 degree high for the day. From 1:30-3 I laid in the shade under a big tree and napped.
As I packed up, a dark cloud rolled in and thunder rumbled overhead. I set out through the wind farm and as the trail wrapped around a steep ridge large rain drops started to fall. I ducked up under the cover of a tree near some rocks and pulled out my tyvek to keep my bag dry. Pea sized hail poured down. Most of my things are in a contractor bag but the top most section I keep loose for easy access.
After waiting to see if the weather would pass a moment I decided to keep moving and around the next bend the weather cleared.
At the water source I was met with an equal number of familiar and unfamiliar faces. Fast Cash and Waldo were back on trail which was a lovely surprise. I filled my water and forced down another bean burrito, prematurely using up my taco bell sauce for the week. I turned to the map to determine my trajectory for the evening.
18.8 miles to the next water. Decent terrain but a few climbs to account for. Minimal camping. Around 20 folks leaving where headed for the first of two spots four to five miles along. That sounded blown out. In the end I opted to leave my gear and walk ahead a half mile down trail to see what was immediately available.
An East facing ridge under the windmills boasted swaths of flat soft ground. I walked back to polish off a pint of 99 Peaches with the folks camping at the spring.
I drank a bunch of water, filled my talenti for cold soaking and said my goodbyes as the sun dipped below the ridge.
The wind on the ridge was a little rowdy but I nestled my bag in beside some brush and called it a night.
Day: 53.
Miles Hiked: 18.3
Mile Camped: 602.1
I set an alarm for 4 but waited until first light to think about actually getting up. With breakfast and lunch presoaking the night prior I ate my oats from bed and deflated my pad. By 6:10am I had broken camp and was on my way. The morning was cool and windy as I walked the west facing ridge but warmed up quickly as the sun climbed the hills. I spotted a few rabbits darting off into the brush and startled a couple of deer grazing near the tent site everyone was headed for the previous night.
I’d packed out my maximum carry of water hoping to nap some of the hot afternoon away between water sources.
I was aiming for at least eight miles by noon if not ten or twelve.
By 9am my feet and ankles were aching and I found a bit of shade to lounge in while I dug out IBprofen and potato chips. I’d gone about six and a half miles. A little over 2 miles an hour is my average so counting breaks I was looking pretty good but there would be a fair amount of climbing ahead. Ten by noon started looking sufficient.
From eleven to two I napped in the grassy shade beneath a grove of trees.
It was difficult to pry myself from the breezy shadows but the nine miles to water would only hurt more without water and I didn’t want to wait so late that I’d be night hiking.
The trail steeply climbed grassy hills covered in trees. Ample shade balanced out the end of the days peak heat but sweat still soaked my shirt.
I reached the spring just before sunset and at the sight of Scarecrow, I settled in and laid out my bag. Superman and Flower’s arrival was followed by Uncle Bucks and we all ate and chatted. I made myself dal and couldn’t stomach it so I put it away for lunch tomorrow and drank a protein shake as a compromise with myself.
The breeze was chilly and soon I crawled into bed. Sleep was scarce and full of odd dreams. I woke up late in the morning unrested.
Day 54
Miles Hiked : 13.9
Mike Camped: Kelso Rd cache
The day started out rough. With a 30 some mile carry and 50 miles to Walker Pass I was struggling with working out a satisfactory plan.
Three 16’s with carefully rationed water intake?
Camp at the end of water, hydrate well and shoot for two 20’s while still carefully rationing water?
After going over the next fifty mile stretch every twenty minutes all morning, remaking my plan each time, making notes, doing the math of mileage and water consumption, zooming in on elevation gains, pulling out all my food to see how many days food I have and what I can eat without water, reading cache status comments that haven’t updated since I left town anyway, and generally floundering logistically and emotionally….I settled for walking to the stream 2.1 miles from my campsite. By then it was 9am and I knew I needed to get moving if only because the friendly faces I’d stopped at this camp site for were gone and the new ones were irking me.
I don’t know what had me in such a mood (water scarcity feels much?!) but I wasn’t having any of it. I felt grumpy and reluctant and intimidated and a little tearful.
I scrolled through my music and couldn’t find anything, I started three new podcasts I disliked so much I deleted them immediately and finally I settled on an episode of Ologies featuring mythologist John Bucher. The series as a whole was hard to get into, the host Alie Ward has a personality with a capital P, but she grew on me and the show has become a favorite especially on hard days.
In the podcast John breaks down the function of a story:
A character needs something they cannot get where they are.
They answer the call to seek this thing they lack.
They discover the “boon” or “elixer” (according to Joseph Campbell) and they return or continue on and bring with then the said elixer – which is their experience, not necessarily the actual object or objective of their journey.
By sharing and reliving this experience via the elixer or boon they then carry with them an endless wonder. And in capitalism we often lose sight of the value of this and expect a reward or goal or accomplishment from a satisfactory story but that’s a more modern narrative.
For me, this journey has never been about Canada. It’s never been about twenty mile days, it’s never been about meeting new people. I’m open to all of those things but I am here for the boon, I am here for the elixer. I can make that hard on myself or I can find it in quiet moments by a stream as dozens of more ambitious hikers pass me by.
I am trying to place value in the things I enjoy. I am trying to enjoy the present moment. I am trying to respect my body’s limitations. I am trying to take care of myself in a holistic way.
So I sat by that stream for about an hour. I felt a little weepy. I felt very tired.
When I finally got to moving again I went slow. As I walked all that I had been carrying inside me finally started to break down. My eyes filled with big tears that wouldn’t fall and I heaved with a few small sobs. Less overcome with emotion than I was just a sense of release.
“I have cast a spell of self destruction and I am breaking that spell. I inherited a curse of self destruction and I am breaking that curse.”
As I said it aloud my tears fell cold and soothing on my sunburned cheeks.
I repeated this to myself throughout the day. Anytime I got anxious about time. Anytime I started to feel down on myself.
There’s something I’ve been trying to find the words for, something about how hard it is to truly slow down. Because even when paralyzed my mind moves fast – turning the same fears and thoughts over and over. Polishing them into shining jems that pass as truth. I’ve been trying to find the words for something about the momentum of sadness and the way it gathers and grows when I don’t or can’t take the time to let it passed through me instead of sweeping me up. There’s much to this that I can’t find the right words for.
When I got to the last spring I settled in to make some food.
I made a peach tea with the cool clear spring water and fried some bits of tortilla for tortilla soup. Frying up fresh tortilla chips is one of my favorite ways to make myself feel good, particularly when I am sad and incredibly broke. I don’t know what it is exactly but it’s always incredibly comforting and satisfying. This was no exception.
The mostly unfamiliar hikers around me discussed the potential water caches. No one had any new information. Everyone packed out their maximum carry.
Just before 4, again I set out walking slowly. At three miles to go in a steady descent, my knees and ankles ached and I winced with the pain. Slowly slowly I wound my way down to Kelso road. Grateful that the scenery of fragrant pines gave way to herbaceous wildflowers and sage and piled sandstone sculptures. Grateful for the small herd of skittish young deer that bound across the trail and watched me pass. Grateful that the suns heat had been tame. Grateful that I wound up setting a realistic and still challenging goal for myself that day. Grateful that the crowd of hikers had thinned.
I reached the road as the sun was setting, said hello to Flower and Superman and the rest of the folks there and retired to my tent.
The latest word on the next cache was that thirty hikers had left Kelso since eleven gallons were reported. I didn’t plan on leaving the roadside until the following evening so I knew I’d be rationing water the last 27 miles.
I washed my tender feet and snuggled into my bag after forcing down Ramen. My fuel canister was almost out. Maybe I’d get one more meal from it. Oh great. I chose to let that go for the time being and fell asleep.
Day 55.
Miles Hiked: 14.9
Mile Camped: 630.9
With the pines behind me and two 1000+ft climbs in the next 18 miles of open desert I decide to wait out the better part of the day with my rainfly as a shade structure.
The plan: Ten miles between 2pm and 8pm. Another four to eight miles after dinner.
A couple trail angels who’s names I didn’t catch turned up around 11 with cold gatorade and cokes. Tuberculosis ran em off with colorful drinking stories pretty quickly.
I napped off and on, attempted to get hydrated and finally packed up by three.
The landscape was far from barren but still didn’t have much to offer by way of shade. Early on I came upon a rattlesnake with its head in a bush. I stopped when I saw its pretty coloring and stepped back, pulling out my ear buds when my gaze followed the pattern to its terminus which began to rattle softly at my stillness. The snake recoiled from the bush and reared it’s head. I backed up as it slithered away, all the while staring me down and softly rattling. This one was much larger and prettier than the first I saw back at mission creek.
I continued on my way, quite pleased with the sighting and soon came across more wildlife….or a cow anyway. I mooed at her. She walked away. Can’t win them all. I also saw a whole bunch of rabbits, more than I’ve seen the whole trail.
At six I sat and ate an early dinner on account of a picnic table at a dirt road crossing. A decent seat is a luxury – a luxury my knees greatly appreciate.
The landscape is very pretty, lots of tiny wildflowers and rock formations and clusters of ancient Joshua tree.
I felt a little bummed out about night hiking later but the moon was waxing and I had gone through nearly a liter of water already. A refreshed cache would be a welcome surprise but I had no reason to trust there will be one in the next 21 miles. The large bubble of hikers (80+ out of Casa de Luna when we were passing through) created by the poor weather taxed the support off trail.
As I was packing up, Francesca and Louie arrived. They’re the boom box couple I mentioned earlier who, fed and hydrated and in a better mood, I introduced myself to and liked just fine.
I climbed through the sunset and saw almost no one.
With every crest reached I was a little glad of the consistency in the landscape and as the daylight faded and moon shadows stretched long before the low crescent, I was grateful for the white sand and rock which reflected the moons soft glow. The remaining climbs were tedious and only about a mile before camp did I need to bring out my headlamp to navigate some shrubby trail that then wound through a boulder field.
I arrived at Bird Spring Pass to a little under a dozen discernable tents. I found the cache and register and sat to look for Grown’s name. She’d been leaving her times next to her sign in’s which gave me a good idea of how far ahead she and Flip were. No sign in. I wondered if they had spent a day here. (It turned out they were there and we missed each other in the morning hours as they set out)
Feeling good and not wanting to start the day with the 1500ft climb out I weighed my options.
If I stayed, maybe I’d connect with them during the day and make a town plan for Lake Isabella. If I left then tomorrows hike would be far less painful.
I decided to take a look around at my options – found a large stand of Joshua tree that would provide ample shade throughout the day and I decided to settle in. I quickly realized someone was camped on the east face of the cluster but was already half unpacked.
I set an alarm for 5am and checked the register again at 6:30am to find that most of the folks that had camped and left had not signed in and looked at my map to see there would be an official register just up the trail – a more likely place to find word from Grown.
Day 56.
Miles Hiked 21.3
Mile Camped 651.3
Got a late start on hiking today on account of DB and EB showing up at the pass with trail magic. I had met them leaving Mike’s Place during their section hike. I met a few new folks and saw a familiar face or two while enjoying their offerings and catching up.
After putting down a hot dog and three beers I took another nap – got real good n sunburnt and woke up around 2pm.
I didn’t break camp until 3:30pm and took a looooooooong time climbing the three mile 1500ft mountain out of Bird Spring while looking at all the pretty rocks. It made the hottest and hardest part of my day so dang lovely.
The trail register on the way up didn’t have a working pen so I was a little in the dark on Grown’s position but I knew we had packages in Lake Isabela and it was Sunday so it was unlikely she’d made it all the way into town in time to pick anything up and would be hanging out somewhere until Monday morning. All I had to do was stick to my guns and bust out the next twenty miles to catch up.
I’m glad I didn’t power through the prior night though because the view was real lovely and though I didn’t stay, the campsites at the top were super cute (and full of bunnies munching in the sunset). I would have missed all of that with the headlamp tunnel vision needed to navigate the jagged rocky trail bordered by steep drops.
Most of the evening wound through woods which I hadn’t expected given the campsite reviews and despite a quarter moon waxing I anticipated being unable to walk without some kind of light this time.
I made it as far as the first spring by moonlight but the dirt road walk got rough and I nearly fell a few times before giving up as I arrived there. From the spring on there wasnt anything noted for camping until walker campground and I took advantage of the unpopulated stretch by singing aloud, at first softly and then once I’d cleared all the climbs and could breath again – at alone-in-your-car-volume, otherwise known out here as I’m-afraid-of-the-dark-but-I’m-still-having-fun-I-think volume. I’m an incredibly fearful person in reality and night hiking is full of imaginary beasts waiting to attack. It’s also not full of other hikers….which can honestly be more anxiety inducing than the fear of a slow death as a cat toy…hence the night hiking. I also just drink way less water night hiking and have been trying to cool it on the whole sun burned to a crisp thing for a minute. And the desert… While beautiful…. I’ve seen 650 miles of. So unless I’m getting some good good golden hour lighting on those rock scapes and grasses and sage brush…..I might as well get it in the monochrome shadow hues of moon and starlight for a change.
And I’m glad I did night hike this stretch. I had daylight through the woods and the views opened up as the stars unfolded above me. With a steep drop to one side for most of the trail I hiked with my headlamp but the soft moonlight on the mountains across the valley was still beautiful.
Around 12:40a I rolled into walker campground and a whisper voice called me over to a campsite as I walked through. Without a thought I walked over to the strange man at the campsite I’d just passed (oh what a world through hiking can be, the strange man turned out to be Hobo – PCT alum that had been providing trail magic there since the beginning of the month) and he offered me snacks and cold beverages and pointed out a nice space he’d cleared out for any late arrivals and let me know there would be breakfast in the morning.
How dang lovely.
Day 57
Miles Hiked: .8
Mile Camped: KOA Lake Isabella
I woke up to the sounds of a camp kitchen coming to life and joined Superman and some new hikers for coffee.
About a half dozen of us milled about, a few snagging early rides from kind strangers leaving the camp ground.
I stuck around for a warm breakfast and a little conversation.
I’m not going to go into any detail because this isn’t the forum for it but a conversation came up amongst the four or five men and women drinking coffee that I found incredibly difficult to navigate. It made me feel unsafe and dehumanized and honestly fucking furious. Because I felt then that any counter argument from me, however personal or impersonal, would fall on deaf ears (at best) I remained uncharacteristically quiet as I walked off a short distance and dug a coffee cup put of my pack. One of the men helping organize Hobofest made a lone stand against the prevailing arguement amongst the group. Eventually the topic shifted and I took a seat on the periphery of the chatting hikers. The guy that had spoken up came over to me, “hey, I see you. I see you.” He said simply, and extended a hand. My eyes welled up a little and I thanked him.
Ya’ll. No one’s mind was changed in that conversation but the burden of education that so often falls on the shoulders of the person defending themself against malicious beliefs was instead picked up by a presumably unaffected party while my own discomfort was seen and appreciated. This is how you take care of others. I don’t always have the bandwidth to navigate conversations where my lived experiences and the experiences of people close to me are immediately dismissed and vilified. It takes a lot to hold that. It takes an incredible amount of energy to hold that and continue to engage with people after they have discounted everything about you for a social and or moral trope that they have never actually thought critically of.
Let’s all do more of that care taking? I know I can make a better effort.
I immediately felt more at ease and realized my body language had shifted and I had disengaged from the group and I turned back towards them a little more sure of my place knowing someone had my back a bit. The rest of the mornings conversation covered a handful of hot topics and sensitive issues and the dialogue was mostly respectful if not somewhat ignorant and my wing nut leanings had more than enough time to shine on a handful of subjects.
Hobo had spray paint and stencils out and as we all ate breakfast and chatted I took advantage by embellishing my silks with a gold and silver “hiker trash” lettering across the booty a la back country Juicy Couture tracksuit. It didn’t exactly come out legible but luckily it’s modtly just the kangaroo mice that’s see me in em.
Eventually I packed up the last of my gear and said my goodbyes. Out on the 178, though traffic was sparse, it took under ten minutes to hitch a ride from a nice local named Richard and once in town I got ahold of Grown and we linked up after nearly a week apart. I misssssed her!! But we also each had a weeks worth of stories and hard mountain therapy to swap and process.
After picking up packages we sat in a cafe to plan out our next stretch and contemplate the coming Sierras.
Shellac, a friend up trail, has been posting the most beautiful snow-covered scenery in his stories and we considered the implications of the conditions.
“It’s going to be hard no matter when we go. It’s going to be beautiful no matter when we go. I don’t want it to be so hard that I don’t see that beauty. I don’t want to be staring down post holes.” I contributed.
With Country Fair around the corner and fair family already in contact with us about travel logistics it was easy stitching together a route north off trail after Kennedy Meadows once we had sussed out our priorities and we settled on our decision: Flip up to the cascade locks and hike south after Kennedy Meadows!
With more than enough food for the short stretch to Kennedy we snagged a campspot at the KOA and I did laundry.
A real lovely couple came by and chatted with us for a while about the trail and travel in general (Hi Mike and Lisa!) and we settled into bed after that.
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