I approached the familiar campsite, the jumble of boulders; I could see the valley below through the trees, and.. was that?... yes, the dead tree stump. This is where I had first set foot on the Pacific Crest Trail last fall, a few miles into the San Bernandino National Forest. I slid down the steep hill to the tree stump, eager as a child on the hunt for an Easter egg. I shifted some rocks to reveal a small plastic bag with a letter, still intact. I had hidden myself a note last fall in hopes of one day finding it again on my thruhike. "Arrow," I wrote, "If you're reading this that means you're thruhiking the PCT. Whoop! I'm so excited for the adventures you'll have." I had climbed back up to the trail and perched on a rock as I scanned over the message from my past. "...I'm going to remind you what I would tell my AT self if I would go back: This is a long trail. An incredibly long trail. Much can happen along this trail. Good things. And bad things. Embrace the experience. If you want to crush miles-- crush it. If you want to take an easy day and chill by an amazing spot, do it. Allow yourself to follow whims, for back in the real world those opportunities are fewer, and it's often irresponsible to go off and do whimsical things. Stop. Breathe. Be still. Be fast. Enjoy the simple life once again. Enjoy the beauty once again. Enjoy the community. Cus there is nothing like this experience-- your experience. Enjoy the journey. --Arrow"
The near-freezing night turned into an incredibly torrid afternoon. The sparkling creek below tortured me, as I hiked hundreds of feet above on the mountainside. Finally the trail made its way down to meet the water, and I spent a relaxing afternoon eating lunch in the cool shade by a waterfall. I was alone for a long while, but I enjoyed the solo time-- watching small fish swimming around, inspecting snails, and delighting in a tadpoles rocketing to the surface for an invisible morsel before darting down to safety. I soaked my feet in the water, and perched on a rock to get a closer look at the wildlife. I heard something behind me and saw a snake slithering along the shoreline a few feet away. I froze. I was in a terrible spot-- handicapped in the water, unable to move away. Thankfully the snake moved on. Later I got a better look and decided it wasn't venomous anyway.
After a while, the others joined me for a swim or a snack, and we finally braved the heat, leaving the cool oasis for the ridgeline again. It was stupid hot. The sun beat down, my sunbrella provided little relief and kept scraping against shrubs, annoying me to no end. After a few miles I sat down in a huff. I rested in the shade as the others in my group crawled past. A few more minutes of pity party and I hoisted myself up to keep going. Not much further I found most everyone lounging by a scummy pool of water, and joined them for some comfort in the shade. By the time we all got motivated to keep moving, it was getting late. A long discussion and a coin-flip later, we found ourselves sliding down the mountainside to a rocky, sandy spot by the creek where we pitched our tents for the night. It was a lovely evening, eating mac and cheese in good company and falling asleep to the song of the creek.
I packed up and quickly covered the two miles to the hot springs. Although still early in the morning, it was quite crowded. There were a lot of locals camping illegally and trash lay scattered everywhere. Beyond the clutter, red cliff walls rose out of deep bubbling pools, waterfalls trickled into hot spring tubs, and thickets of grass waved from the opposite shore. It was beautiful. I heard there was a high fecal matter count and brain-eating amoebas found in these waters, so I located the cleanest-looking spring-- a shallow, secluded puddle steaming in the morning light, and stuck my feet in, squealing as the hot water washed over my skin. The rest of the Rattlesnacks joined me as they arrived, some fully immersing and some simply sitting by the water.
We still had a ways to go, so I continued up the trail under the hot sun. As I neared civilization, I gave a yelp of excitement when I saw a sign claiming "trail magic 3/4 of a mile ahead." I tried not to get my hopes up, in case it was an old sign. But sure enough, as I approached the parking lot, Coppertone the trail angel sat in the shade with a welcoming circle of chairs and a few tables with fruit and cookies. I was grateful for the break. "You look like you were dragging," he said as I approached. He asked if I wanted a root beer float. My eyes lit up; "Yes!" I could barely contain my excitement as he came out of his RV with a cup full of ice cream and poured in bubbling soda. Dreams came true. Coppertone travels with a bubble of hikers the whole way to Canada. He stays in his RV and does a week of trail magic at each chosen location. After stuffing my face with at least 10 cookies and one of everything else, I made myself move on and pushed through the heat of the day.
As the afternoon wore on, I picked up my pace, frustration with pain and heat and hills fueling me. The trail skirted a lake, high above the water. I could see people tubing and boating and fishing and eating, and looked down enviously while I sweated along the shoreline. All I wanted was to sit in the cool shade and chug a bottle of blue Gatorade. After and unbearably long time, I made it to the park where we planned on camping for the night. I filled my bottle with cold fountain water and poured in some drink mix. It wasn't blue Gatorade, but it would do. I chugged it. Once the others arrived, they ordered a pizza and graciously shared a slice with me.
I haven't eaten McDonald's in ten years and I was not about to break that streak, but I did take advantage of the McDonald's right off the trail. It was not a spot to miss, and many hikers loitered there for hours, eating tons of big macs and using the wifi and charging outlets. I stopped in the gas station next door and finally got my Gatorade and some bugles, then joined the other hikers in a booth at McDonalds. After entirely too long, I made my way back to the trail and covered a few miles before I stopped to camp. It was a beautiful spot; a desert wash lush with life, hills towering on both sides and layers of mountains in the background. Many of the others from my group stayed in a hotel near the McDonalds. It was the first night I didn't camp with any of the Rattlesnacks. It was nice to be alone for a while.
Everything was a white once I unzipped my rain fly. The clouds had touched the earth overnight and everything was wet with fog. I took my time packing up before starting the climb; I had a long uphill-- 5000 ft over 15 miles. It wasn't a bad hill, but it took all day. I stopped early for lunch and took a nap. I was in no hurry. I didn't have too far to go unless I was trying to make it to town. I was undecided if I should push all the way into town that day or nero in the next day. I went back and forth on the decision throughout the day. Finally the call of a cozy bed and delicious food won me over and I picked up my pace. When I dumped out my extra water I was locked in to my decision, for I wouldn't have enough water to camp out over night. I practically ran the remaining five miles; I had killed too much time already, on the assumption that I wouldn't make it to town that day. Even with my afternoon nap I managed to make it to the road by 3:45, and hopped in a car with some other thruhikers.
Wrightwood is a tiny town with only a hardware store, a grocery store, and a few restaurants. There isn't much, but the residents are incredibly generous to thruhikers. Every store or shop offered something free to anyone walking the long trail. I was dropped off at the hardware store where I located a list of trail angels who hosted hikers for the night, and started calling my way down the list. Everyone was full. Apparently I was in a huge bubble. If I couldn't find a place to stay, all my effort to make it to town would have been for naught. With only three trail angels yet to call and my hopes draining, I crossed my fingers and called a lady who hosted "women and couples only." I had saved the restrictive hosts for last, because T.C. and Spygot were also in town and trying to find a place, and I was hoping to find someone that could have us all. Ms. D answered right away and said there was room. I couldn't get T.C. a place (he's a dude), but I managed to get Spygot in as well, and I delightfully hung up the phone and ran over to the market to tell Spygot the good news. As she saw me approaching, skipping and wooping, she jumped up excitedly as well, even though I hadn't even told her the news yet. That struck me; how my joy caused celebration, even though it was unknown what was to be celebrated.
Ms. D picked us up and brought us to her house. She gave us full access to her basement, where she had a kitchenette and beds, and left us largely alone. Spygot and I got some groceries and made dinner. After devouring a small pizza, burrito, and salad, I crawled into bed with some popcorn and settled in to watch some netflix. Ah, yes. The lack of creature comforts on the trail really makes one appreciate these simple things all the more.
Want to know more about the people I'm hiking with? Check out the People of the PCT post.
Comments