Day 18: Mile 205.7 - 220.1
Today was a short day, recovering from San Jacinto a bit. There's something developing on the outside of my left big toe: some rubbing or something is making it numb. It feels different than a blister, so today when I got to the Whitewater River, I soaked my feet in the cold water, then let them air out. I'll continue the airing tonight, then SNB it in the morning and leukotape it. Hopefully that helps.
But yes, shorter day today. The next stop is Mission Creek--which is supposed to be a beautiful oasis with shady trees, smooth flat sand to camp on, and water--but also 6 miles ahead and up-and-over two ridges. So I elected to stop here at the Whitewater River crossing. The water here is strong and flowing: there's a log across the river that everyone likes to sit on and dip their feet, or even go whole hog and dip their whole body in the little shallow pool that accumulates just downstream. Me, I just did the former, and that felt plenty good enough!
The hike to get here was a hot one: my watch read up to 94 F when I bothered to check. Hot enough that I stopped a lot, usually under shade, to take a breather or two or three. Tomorrow, I'm going to try waking early, get going while it's still cool, then maybe wait out the noon-2pm hours and start up again after. I took a day-hiker mentality today, which is just do it, take the heat and the lethargy and just push through, but then as a day-hiker I only have this one day to do this, and I have a week afterward to recover. Out here, no such time limit and no such luxury. So time to change it up, to not push during the hottest hours, and see if this other way works better.
The trail itself was a lot of flat desert, then some slightly inclined desert up to the Wind Farm, then a steep hot climb out of the Wind Farm Valley that caused the break or two or three, then some meandering in the desert hills, before descending down to the river. Lots of dry desert landscape, in that southern California un-flat fashion. Plus the color of the sun changed, and so I broke out the umbrella (at least wherever it wasn't too windy). It helped: it prevents the sun from beating down on you. it's still hot, but it doesn't feel as oppressive. I admit that's a psychological thing but, eh, the umbrella is useful for other things too (like as a wind shield for my stove, or keeping a hailstorm off my head) so I'm keeping it.
There are some magnificent rock formations here and there, some cut stone and some weird color gradiations--none of which I could explain--but for the most part, rolling hills of empty under a cloudless sky. What a relief, then, to finally come to the river! I had estimated 2 L for the 10 miles from I-10 to the river under my usual "1 L per 5 miles" rule, but under this heat, I think "1 L per 3 miles" is more appropriate. Luckily I had the extra liter anyway, but will keep the new rule in mind for future planning in this section.
And that was the hike! A shorter day, but a much hotter one, and so it feels like a long one!
-- Water Faucet > Interstate 10 > Wind Farm > Whitewater Preserve > Whitewater River
-- The Wind Farm windmills weren't moving as I passed, and I wondered if it was because they were doing some maintenance on the poles down the line, and so shut down the turbines for 1) safety, and 2) impedance reasons. But then I saw there was a substation between the turbines and the maintenance, so couldn't they handle the impedance change and power transfer there? And then I got to thinking: wait, how do they change the frequency of the spinning turbines into 60-Hz anyway? Do they convert it to DC by self-mixing (while being wary of the phase difference on the two paths), then convert the DC to AC? But then why not just go AC-to-AC? What's more efficient? This occupied my mind for a good while, mostly because there wasn't anything else to think about and I didn't have cell service so Google couldn't answer it for me in a half-a-minute flat. 😋
-- Today I met Rooster, and we talked on the way from the water faucet to the I-10. Rooster has a lot of stories, more than a little drama going, and I'm not sure he knows what he wants to do. I've been thinking about this a little myself, even though I try not to. I'm not sure what I want to do after the trail either, but I've come to see that more as an opportunity than a burden, more as open than as a problem. (Doubtless I'll laze about until it *becomes* a problem, but I'll jump off that bridge when I get to it.) But I also don't think the trail is going to answer it for me. The trail gives me a chance to answer it, in a more-or-less socially acceptable way, but it doesn't do any of the work: *I* still have to put in the work. (There's a link between this idea and Pastor Hasper's patience sermon from years back, but I'll indulge that some other time.)
-- But before I got distracted, I was talking about Rooster. He is a fan of SF and fantasy--we had a discussion about how Tom Bombadil fits in Tolkien's Legendarium: definitely not Maiar, likely not Valar, then what *is* he?--and he also gave me some recommendations: The Diaspora by Greg Egan and The Black Company. I haven't had a consistent reading habit in quite some time, but these'll go on the list for when I do.
-- Under the I-10 there was trail magic: a water cache, some cutie oranges that I was too late to get. And posters--splayed cardboard boxes and whatnot--where you could sign your name. I did, with a drying marker that made "charlie" look more like "chrle", but I don't think anyone's looking anyway!
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