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Desert Solitude


I set off in the afternoon, the freedom of the trail before me. The others had stayed in town a bit longer, so I was alone. I had decided to intentionally try to hike and camp mostly alone for a few days, for I realized I've done the whole desert section so far with a group, so I didn't really know what it was like to be by myself. I stopped on a ridgeline to camp, with a valley of windmills in the east and evidence of a town in the west. I ate dinner as I washed the sunset, and crawled into bed as the red eyes of the windmills started blinking into the night.


Solo camping
 

The little solo didn't last long. I woke up from deep sleep. I was still groggy as I unzipped my tent to see TC pass by. Apparently they hadn't camped much further behind. Penguin caught up soon after I started walking, and it was nice to have company for a while, marveling at the changing landscape. After a quick break at the water source, I parted ways with everyone once again and hiked alone for the rest of the day. I ate lunch in shade of a tree with an epic view, then took a long nap. Finally I set off again. There was a cool breeze and a lot of trees so it wasn't too hot as I trekked along.


I had the campsite mostly to myself as I set up my tent and ate dinner, but just as I crawled into my tent I heard my name. The rest of the group had caught up again, crashing my party of one. Interrupted from my solitude, I happily talked and listened to the lively conversation.


 

600 miles. I trudged down the road to the spring, the last water source for 42 miles. It was a perfect spot for trail magic, I noticed, as I approached the spring, and joined the crowd of hikers resting in the shade. And what do you know, in the middle of my lunch a car pulled up and out jump a guy asking us if we wanted food and drinks.

Enjoying magic

We filed over and collected the magic. He had drinks, cookies, chips, and bananas, "And the best part is that he came all the way from Norway to do magic," I told Stretch, who had just arrived. She stared blankly. "Norway is a country in the East..." Penguin politely explained. "No, I know where Norway is! I can't believe he came here just to give trail magic," Stretch exclaimed. "Norway is a country in the East.. oh that's too funny, I have to write that down," I muttered. "Wait, you didn't know where Norway was either?" Southbound asked. Haha. I'm bad at geography, but not that bad.


I caught a horny lizard

I took to the trail again, and stopped seven miles later at a water cache to eat some dinner. The others decided to stay there for the night, but I wanted to get some more miles in. I hiked until the sun set, and found a beautiful spot under some Joshua trees, overlooking the surrounding valley.


 

Gentle gusts of wind lightly shook my tent, keeping me from falling into a deep sleep until 1 a.m., when I finally put in ear plugs. When I woke up I was still tired, but knowing it would be a long way before water, I got up to hike in the cool of the day. It was lovely weather, but I was miserable.

A steep uphill on sandy ground; for every step I took, I slid back and inch. My foot was killing me, and I wondered if there was something seriously wrong with it. "Good magic at Dove Spring Pass," a southbounder told me. "Thanks," I grunted back, and whipped out Guthook to see how far away that was. Four and a half miles. Great. Now I had two hours to dream of wonderful things while I was stuck trudging away on a sunny, sandy trail. It was torture.


As I finally rounded at the corner, I saw a canopy tent and knew it was going to be good magic. Everyone who puts up those tents always have good things to eat. I enjoyed some oranges and Gatorade as the rest of the Rattlesnacks filtered in. Once it neared 11:00, I announced I was heading out soon. I wanted to get up the big hill before it got too hot. But I lingered, and finally the angel gave me the news I wanted: lunch would start soon. I decided to stay for a sandwich; who wouldn't?


When the sun was at its highest we headed out. I pushed up the 3 mile hill under the sun. It was a good misery. Then a long-awaited downhill in the shade. My feet hurt by the time I got to the decided camp spot. No one was there. I thought I'd have company, but I cooked dinner and watched the sky change colors alone. No matter, I went to bed early.


 


A quarter way through!

I was cruising. I knew Coppertone would be at Walker Pass with trail magic, and I decided I would only stop for a minute so I could climb the next hill before it got too hot. I didn't want to loose momentum.

Not even the hottest it got

Yeah, that didn't happen. It was double trail magic. There was another angel serving sandwiches, chips, fruit, and soda. After second breakfast, I moved to Coppertones' station and enjoyed a root beer float for lunch. I told myself I would leave at 10:00. 10:00 came and went. Okay, 11:00. 11:00 Passed. 11:30? Didnt happen. I gave up. By noon it was way too hot to leave-- over a hundred degrees in the sun. I broke a sweat just walking to the bathroom. So I journaled and napped and ate a dozen cookies.



Rattlesnacks with Coppertone

After eight hours at magic (a personal record) I headed out. It was still hot, but the shadows were long in places and I made good time. I wanted to go twelve miles to the next water source, but as the sun set and it grew dark, the trail grew rough. I stumbled on loose rock underfoot, rolling ankles and tripping as I swiveled around looking for mountain lions. It was always sketchy hiking alone at night, but I made a lot of noise and took precautions against the cougars. I wondered how good of an idea it was too hike on this terrain in the dark. A few hours after sunset I made it to a decent spot where I could pitch a tent. I set up my tent in silence with the wind rustling the leaves of the trees, watching a few headlamps pass by.


Sunset
 

Inspired by another hiker who was doing a 100 mile vow of silence, I decided to go for 50 miles of silence. I wanted to do it because, though we are already removed from the overload of civilization, there a still a lot of chatter on the trail. When we are talking so much, we often miss things, so by being silent you are watching, listening, and noticing things that you may not otherwise see or hear. The desert is already a quiet place and the last 50 miles are perfect because it can give you time to reflect on the journey so far. I allowed myself to grunt hellos and thank yous to hikers passing by, but I could not engage and conversation.

After a lot of ups and downs on a breathtaking trail, I called it an early day and set up my sleeping stuff. I heard Spygot call, and she came up to join me. She started jabbering about her day while I silently listened. Then we played a game of charades where I tried to tell her some things. The 50 miles of silence was kind of a failed experiment because I hiked alone most of the day anyway, and when I did meet up with people I talked with my hands. But It was a fun experiment and I did notice a few things. I think it would be more effective if I were to do a longer bout of silence. I wanted to get up early to get to Kennedy Meadows so I went to bed while it was still light out.


 

Because I had cowboy camped, I packed up in record time. I marveled at the sunrise. Everything was washed in golden hues. The trail wound gently through meadows and pine forests. I didn't stop until I reached the river and found a private swimming hole where I filled my water. I hadn't planned on staying long but I decided I should at least soak my feet, as the water it was inviting and I was sore. It was amazing.

Eager to get to Kennedy Meadows four miles away, I pulled myself out of the river and started putting socks on my numb feet. I paused. It was hot outside and the water was wonderful. I recalled passing a fantastic swimming hole on the AT because I was in a rush to get to town. I didn't want this to be a repeat experience. So I ripped my socks back off and plunged in. The freezing water made me alive. I smiled in delight. "This is amazing!" I said aloud to myself, forgetting my vow of silence.


700 miles, and soon the desert section was finished. I hiked into Kennedy Meadows I amidst the traditional round of applause. "Done," I proclaimed. Done with the desert. It's over.



The next few days went by quickly as I did my chores and got ready for the next leg of the journey. The desert had been hot and dry, yet wonderfully beautiful and rewarding. But I was ready for the change of pace; eager for the higher elevations, trees, snow, and cooler weather, excited for the most beautiful section of trail. With a full pack and new gear, I turned my back on the desert, and headed into the Sierras.



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