Day 29: 298.5 - 305.9
Back on the trail today! A later start: I took my time getting out of Irvine, had myself a nice breakfast with Dan, then we headed out, hit some traffic, dropped some backup gear at Ian's place (and Dan and Ian got to meet face-to-face for the first time), then drove up to Lake Arrowhead. The later start time doesn't bother me, though. It's a hiker time thing--in the short run it has implications if you want it to, but in the long run, a few less miles here will be made up with a few more miles there, and all will be reconciled anyway when I next head into town. Put another way, on the scale of "the long run", transit is quantized by town stops, and town stop arrival times don't matter much (well, so long as you're in before the post office closes!).
For this stretch, the trail follows Deep Creek downstream, going mostly north and west. It's a shelf-trail mostly, riding high enough above the river below that it could almost be a gorge at times--in reality, though, it's mostly just a steep canyon. Aside from the heights, the trail itself is fairly mild and well-behaved over this section--no climbs or drops, just inclines throughout--and it's also clearly well-trodden. I wonder if the latter is because it's the main thoroughfare to the Hot Springs? Either way, except for a few near wash-outs (nothing too severe, just need to watch where you place your feet is all), it's remarkably clear and reminded me of the start of the trail it was so clean.
As for me, I started the day hiking about a mile plus from the road closure on Hook Creek Road, to get to Splinters Cabin and back to the trail. Over that little stretch, all the familiar little aches and pains came back: first the outside of my left ankle hurt (intimations of Scissors Crossing); then when I stepped on a weird rock and the pain moved to the same but on my right ankle (my right foot especially dislikes pronation, and isn't shy about letting me know!); then to my left big toe (again); then to the second and third toes on my right foot (that was novel); and so on. But this I didn't mind, because it was all rotating pain. Rotating pain--that is, pain that maybe starts here, but then moves to over there, then subsequently to over there over there, and so on--doesn't bother me. Rather, it's when the pain doesn't rotate out but stays persistent in one place: that's when I start to worry. This pain, it's likely me growing a bit soft from so many off days in Irvine, and with the heavy pack--I'm carrying 6 days worth of food and, oh yeah, I felt it!--yeah, the body's going to groan at the outset. Hmm, maybe I should have found an ascent like Bertha Peak just to hammer home that this is the way it's going to be, there's no other choice: my way *is* the highway!
But no, ended up with a shorter day today. Some folks, coming out of town, are well-rested and raring to go: they hit the trail and--bam!--they do 20 miles. Me, I'm more like an old car on a crisp morning. I start after some cranking, then slowly back out of the driveway, take my time on the side streets, then maybe--maybe--gun it on the freeway on-ramp. But honestly would rather not. Which is to say I prefer doing shorter miles coming out of town: not only are there fewer hours because I often start later, but I like the idea of slowly ramping the body back into it rather than going full-hog right off the bat.
Which is a fancy way of saying: I'm old. And of trying to justify doing, what, less than 8 miles today? Ok, that's a little extreme.
But I picked this nice little campsite in the sand, admidst the streambed boulders of what is likely a feeder to Deep Creek when it rains, next to a brilliant bloom of yellow flowers. (The bees were a bit miffed when I first set up, but mostly I didn't bother them so after scoping me out a bit, they got over it.) I had been worried about campsites coming out of Deep Creek Bridge: over this stretch, Guthooks doesn't list any campsites until the Hot Springs 2 miles further down the trail. And for the vast majority of this section the trail is indeed a shelf trail cut into a steep slope, so there's no place off trail to set up a tent either. I mean, if you looked all the way down to the creek, you could see sandy sections next to the water, but it would be a beast getting down there (and even more of one climbing back up the next morning!). So there was some worry. Luckily, after hiking some I realized that every half mile or so the trail winds into some tributary canyon off to the side, and often at those points will have some flat spots that have clearly been used for camping. That's what this spot is, in fact. They're just not on Guthooks is all. So I kept hiking, and worried less, and eventually took the site that--estimating from the contour geography ahead--is that last good series of campsites before the Hot Springs.
Because I didn't want to go to the Hot Springs today. They're close: only 9 miles from Deep Creek Bridge and only a couple miles from here, less than an hour given the mildness of the trail. But I didn't want to go today. From Guthooks, it sounds like the Hot Springs are very popular--especially on the weekends (and tomorrow's a Saturday)--and they have a bit of that college fun-time vibe. And while I admit it's been a lonely day today--only saw two other thru-hikers and a dog, and all of them were new folks--and it would have been good to see people, I'm not interested in that college vibe right now. Right now I feel I've been to college, got the T-shirt (in fact, T-shirt*s*), heck, even got the degree! And tonight, I just don't feel like bringing up the energy to indulge that again. Tonight, back on the trail after a so many days away, I just want to pick a quiet spot, get back into the swing of camping, of pitching tent and making dinner, and maybe--if I'm *really* ambitious--get to bed a little early. That may not sound like much but, trust me, it'll be *so* *good* if I pull it off!
-- Irvine > Splinters Cabin > Campsite
-- On the drive up to Splinters Cabin, we passed by Bloom, rather determinedly hiking the other way, most likely headed to the Malt Shop. She looked good: she looked strong, hiking on the asphalt up the hill. Hey, that's Bloom, I said to Dan as we passed. I did tell him he could give her a ride to the Malt Shop on his way back if he liked; don't know if he did or not. I will say that, when Dan dropped me off, he got that "I want to go" impulse again--it was strong and messing with him. You can tell because Dan'll stop talking and start wandering around aimlessly, kicking at dirt, climbing nearby rocks, then go still and look off into the distance before suddenly shaking his head and declaring, man, I wanna go! Then he'll shake his head some more, almost like a wet dog, as if by doing so he could sluf the feeling plumb off. So I'm not sure if he offered Bloom a ride--might have been too emotional!
-- Another odd thing on the drive up: toward the end, on Hook Creek Road, there were some telephone trucks out doing repairs to the poles. And when I saw trucks, I mean trucks: more than a dozen of them, on pole after pole after pole all in a row. I almost thought, is this some telephone pole fixing class? Are these all students out here practicing today's lesson? I've never seen so many trucks actively deployed in one place, their arms all raised up, all of them manned by their own crew, working away up top. Honestly, I've never even considered that so many trucks and crews even existed--I mean, rationally, a posteriori of course this is true, but in the moment, it was actually quite a shocking revelation!
-- Today I met Abby--who's a pretty chill dog--and Abby's Person. I bumped into them at the Deep Creek Bridge where I rejoined the PCT: they were down at the creek getting water, I was down at the creek taking photos. Abby was the one who approached me, walked slowly towards me, looking me over, then stopped a few yards away, lay down, and put her head on her paws. And just laid there, in the sand, by the creek, in the shadow of the bridge. Certainly wasn't fazed by me in any way. Abby's Person eventually asked me if I was going southbound--evidently the yellow bandana I wear round my neck is indicative of something you get in Kennedy Meadows? (Kennedy Meadows is the "Entrance to the Sierras", at around the 700-mile mark.) Nope, northbound I assured him. We talked a bit about the trail ahead, about water (should be available) and campsites (not many on Guthooks, so makeshifts might be in order). He was going to try to hit the hot springs about 9 miles hence and later, when I had set up camp, he did indeed pass me. So you found a spot!, he said. Yep, I said, you going on to the hot springs? Yeah, he said. It's about 2 miles from here I said. He checked Guthooks, yep, exactly 2 miles, he said, and off he went.
-- Finally, a comment on food. The hiker hunger, which had kicked in around Whitewater River, had subsided during my extended stay in Irvine. And today on the trail, it wasn't back yet: when I took my dinner of mashed potatoes and "fancy" tuna, I actually had to work some at the very end to finish it, instead of just wolfing it all down. But I'm sure it will come back; it's just napping. If nothing else, as I finished dinner, I did suddenly get a hankering for ice cream, so the beast may be sleeping, but it does stir!
-- What is "fancy" tuna? Well, in case you didn't know (as I didn't until Matt pointed it out to me at a grocery store in Julian), when you buy tuna-in-a-bag there are two types: tuna in water, and tuna in olive oil. The latter is preferred, since the olive oil roughly doubles the calories for about the same weight. The disadvantage, though, is that tuna-in-olive-oil usually only comes in the standard, unseasoned flavors rather than the strong, spicy flavors--and spicy flavors are coveted on trail because without them, things often just taste bland. But in my case, I was adding the tuna to garlic mashed potatoes, so the standalone flavor wasn't an issue, and bland-old tuna-in-olive-oil was just fine. And now I'm guessing you know more about tuna-in-a-bag than you ever imagined you would!
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