A cool gentle breeze greeted me as I packed up my tent, and I was off. Immediately my hopes of gentler terrain vanished. They said the Northern California section was easy, but within the first ten minutes of hiking I was slammed with an incredibly steep uphill. Although it was short, it still took a lot of energy to climb it, along with the dozens of other hills that day.
I ate lunch on top of one of the hills, eyeing the storm clouds once again roll in. However thick and wide, they refused to cover the sun, and I sweated up yet another hill, hot and tired. I slumped on a rock for a short pity party before deciding it was time for the pump-up music. That got me motivated enough to put one foot in front of the other and the clouds finally did their job, covering the sun for a bit. The storm never threatened me. Thunder bounced around overhead, but all the action was happening to the east.
My feet were in pain from all the miles, my knees hurt from the downhills, my left arch was killing me, and I had a headache. It took everything I had to make it to a camping area, but once I arrived I wasn't content to stop there. Another camping spot lay 2 miles ahead, and that one was better. "You are going to kill yourself" I muttered aloud. Indeed, I was pushing my body to its limits, and suddenly jumping into 20+ mile days after so much time off trail maybe wasn't a good idea. But the extra two miles weren't too bad, aside from every muscle screaming in pain. Finally I made it. It was a lovely camp area, but all the good spots with a view were taken. I was beyond caring.
The terrain was starting to be a bit easier. The hills were still a rollercoaster, but not as steep, gentler, and a tad bit shorter. It was desert-like, huge dark brown towers and rough rock formations bordering the occasional stream and accompying green meadow. I made it much further than I thought I would, and found a lovely place to camp near a lake. I ate dinner and watched a bird dart back and forth across the pond, dragon flies flitting in all directions. A random frog bellowed out amongst the chirps and squeals of the songbirds as the sun set low in the sky.
But I slept terrible, and groggily made my way up the first hill of the day. I looked down on the lake below, envying the specks of colorful kayakers interrupting the blue surface of the water. I saw more and more dayhikers as I neared Carter Pass, and stopped for a quick lunch at a crowded lake to watch the overwhelming amount of day hikers swimming and picniking.
The next stop was the Information Center at Carter Pass; I had heard they gave trail magic to thruhikers. I set my pack down and went inside to ask if there was a restroom (and score some food), but she directed me to the outhouse without any notice of my thruhiker status. I came back and went to my backpack for germx, hoping they would see me with a pack and therefore shower me with treats. No such luck. I went back inside, perusing the information pamphlets and books, wondering when my stench would hit them and send them rushing over with delicious drinks and goodness. Nothing happened. Not wanting to be forward and just straight up tell them I was a thruhiker and demand magic, I went outside, drug my pack to some shade in view of the open door, and dug out some food, looking as pathetic as possible. It worked. A volunteer hesitantly came over to ask if I was thruhiking and if I wanted soda and a brownie. Yes! I tried to look surprised (like I didn't know it was coming) and grateful. I went inside where she handed me a coke and piled fruit and a brownie on a plate.
Magic having been devoured, I headed off. The sun was hot but I made good timing to a beautiful lake. Unable to resist, I waded into the water, watching minnows dart out of my way. I wasn't planning on getting all the way wet, but I grew tired of standing so I plopped in the water, letting the fish nibble my feet, their white underbellies flashing every time I involuntarily jerked from the tickling.
In the end I decided to camp there. It was incredibly crowded with weekend warriors, and all of the good spots were taken. Finally I found a secluded spot tucked away and fell asleep to the chatter of other campers.
The sun was red in the smoke. After a few hours of hiking, I made it to the road where I was joined by the small band of thruhikers I had met at Kennedy Meadows North. It took 40 minutes for us to get a hitch on the busy highway.
We were dropped off at a hostel in South Lake Tahoe where we took a quick shower and then headed to a buffet at a casino. I greedily piled my plate with bacon, eggs, and biscuits. Round one. Round two: special made omelette, another biscuit, and veggies. Round 3: salad, more veggies, some mac and cheese, and fruit. I was getting full. But there was still desert, and it's illegal to skip dessert. After cake and fluff, I couldn't eat another bite. That is, until someone came back with chocolate pie; I really wanted some. So I hopped up and grabbed a piece, and with much pain I managed to finish it and washed it down with chocolate milk.
We had been eating for about 2 hours by the time we finally hobbled away to the elevators. I had to bend doubled over to ease the brick of food in my stomach. It was so painful. Why do I do this to myself? One of the guys looked dazed and pale. Too much food. Way too much food.
We walked around town a bit to burn off the calories. The rest of the day was spent doing chores and catching up with family. Hiker-made spaghetti bake for dinner and apple strussel for dessert. I didn't go to bed hungry.
Back to the trail all too soon. We made our way up a thousand foot climb to Aloha Lake. It was like a lake on the moon. Skeletal trees shot up from bare rock, mountains towered across the gray lake, and a smoky haze blurred the distance. Erie. Bizarre. Beautiful. Terrible. Awesome. We stumbled across the loose rock until we found some nice spots with a view where we set up camp. We ate dinner while throwing rocks at bold chipmunks trying to get into our food.
Just as I finished packing my pack for the morning it started to sprinkle. It rained off and on for a half hour. The lake looked more apocolyptic in the cloudy morning light.
1100 miles and raining 1111.11 miles!
I cruised all day, in the zone. I wish it was always like that. Nothing crazy exciting happened, but I pushed a few extra miles to get to a campsite with cell service. It was luxury.
But service can sometimes be a nuisance. I was distracted in the morning and didn't get out of camp until late. I was really unmotivated all day, and had so much cell phone signal I didn't know what to do. It distracted me too much.
It was another uneventful day, full of lots and lots of huge uphills. At the bottom of the last hill, I was tired and in pain. I sat on a rock, avoiding and dreading the climb up. Finally I put on some music and headed off. The hill wasn't going to climb itself. At the top I found an epic camp spot amongst the pines, and stretched out on my sleeping pad as I cooked dinner, looking over the hills as the sun sank low in the sky.
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