To add insult to injury, the first day out was a horrifyingly steep ascent up Mt.Baden-Powell, a 9,000 foot beast named for the founder of Boy Scouts. We climbed at a rate of 1,000 feet of elevation per mile, which is a hard climb even before you factor in my new favorite thing, altitude sickness. If you are ever trying to digest a whole lot of town food, I do not recommend hiking at 9,000 feet. I felt SO sick. The view was so beautiful, but I was so miserable.
We stood on the summit that offered a 360 view of the mountains we had come from and the mountains we were headed to. Glider planes whistled by just a few dozen yards over our heads.
I only managed to hike a few miles down, just enough to allay my nausea, before I about near collapsed in complete, total exhaustion. I fell asleep well before sundown, praying the worst of this stretch was over.
It wasn't.
The next morning I woke up a little later, so Color Wheel hiked ahead of me. I followed only about 20 minutes behind her, but I took a wrong side trail at a confusing junction and about an hour later found myself on a highway carved into the side of a mountain with no PCT markers in sight.
I was lost. "Shit."
I couldn't quite process the situation at first. I stood there alternating between panic, disbelieve, frustration, and despair, switching from one emotion to the next so quickly they were nearly indistinguishable from each other. I flipped through my maps, flustered and perplexed, the fury at myself for not paying closer attention to the trail building to a rolling boil. I'd only been standing there a few minutes when a SUV rolled by and parked on a recess next to the highway just in sight ahead of me. I walked over to ask the day hikers that emerged where exactly I was. The woman told me I was on Hwy 2, and the PCT was approximately 2 steep miles uphill from where I stood. I already knew it, but hearing it out loud was more than I could handle. I couldn't help myself anymore. I burst into tears, right in front of the woman and her husband.
They were kind and patient and they comforted me while they waited for me to calm down so I could explain what was wrong. Essentially, I was exhausted, lost, homesick, sore, hungry, separated from my friend, and a bit low on water. If I hiked the hard uphill, there was little chance I would catch up or have enough water to make it to the next source. The woman knew of a PCT trail crossing five miles up the road, and she told me to put my pack in the car, they were going to drive me there. I was so relieved and thankful I started crying all over again. Thank god for trail angels.
Richard and Kathy dropped me off at a picnic table by the trail at Islip Saddle, hugged me, and drove off wishing me luck on the rest of my journey. I walked up to the other hikers sitting at the table, still pretty shaky emotionally. They assured me that every one of them had taken the same wrong turn, and that I was not an idiot.
I rested a while with the hikers, eating, waiting for Color Wheel, and reviewing the maps to find my new next water source. It turned out there was a detour coming up, part of the PCT was closed, and I was going to have to walk on the highway for a ways after just a few miles of steep trail. I started the detour, and it was still rough going. Not only was I still tired from the day before, but my confidence in myself as a hiker was at an all time low.
I had been out here a month as a "solo hiker", but what I realized that morning was that I hadn't really been solo very much at all since I started this walk. I had grown close to the people I had been hiking around, and now I was apart from them. I was lonely.
It was strange to realize this. And when I did realize it, I saw that this was a great chance to experience something new. Over the next couple of days, I met a whole bunch of new people, cowboy camped for the first time (cowboy camping is sleeping without shelter, under the stars), camped solo for the first time since I'd come out here, night hiked a number of times, and spent time hiking alone and with people I hadn't gotten to know yet.
It was still hard. It got really hot again, there were terrible flies, and the trail led through old dusty burn areas, laced with invasive, poisonous poodle dog bush and the charred skeletons of trees.
But as it always does, the trail showed me why it was worth it. Beautiful sunrises, sunsets, twinkling city lights in the distance, incredible canyons and enormous red rock boulders, and the cherry on top, an afternoon at Suzanne's house. I met Suzanne in Agua Dulce at a cafe. She had an enormous Newfoundland, Teddy, and while I was petting him she offered to let me come spend the afternoon at her house. I slept in her garden under the wisteria trees, did some yoga, hung out with her dogs and her horse, and listened to her stories. I had a wonderful, restful afternoon. Suzanne, if you're reading this, you are the absolute best, and I miss you already!
So, all in all, this week was a hard week turned positive. Should be at mile 500 pretty soon! Here's some picture highlights from the week:
1,500 year old tree on top of Baden-Powell
Mile 400!
Sunset over a burn area
Vasquez Rocks! Amazing rock formations. Apparently some hikers walked through the set of a car commercial here.
No comments:
Post a Comment