Day 30: Mile 305.9 - 320.1

Today was a day out of rhythm: try as I might--and I tried a variety of different mentalities, different perspectives--but I could not get anything going. Maybe it was the time back in Irvine. I remember Dina--Dina was the president of the board at her church, which was preparing for June 15 when California reopens. As such they had meetings every few weeks and she would get off trail, go home, and attend. But all the time away from the trail, she said it made it so she could never get her trail legs in, could never build up her trail abilities. Instead, everything she built would regress away. My four days away weren't that bad--I retained a lot--but certain things aren't in place. I've forgotten certain practices--when I took down the tent this morning, besides being slow, I forgot to do the housekeeping sail, and that's usually my favorite part! And to say nothing of the circadian rhythms: my bowels are pinging at all the wrong times, and my hiker hunger has disappeared entirely (and unfortunately I prepared my food bag assuming it would be there). Will all this come back? Sure, and I've had plenty of experience "starting over": I did that with swimming, with piano, with a bunch of skills, all more times than I care to remember. Still doesn't make it feel good, though.

And then there's the other side, the more emotional side. Coming out of Big Bear, I remember Cookie did a monster day for her--19.5 miles!--because she wanted to keep up with the bubble that had formed at Big Bear. They were cool people, she said, and she wanted to stay with them. And that's a real thing too: seeing familiar faces, leapfrogging with folks throughout the day, catching up at the campsite. That builds a sense of belonging and a certain security. Four days off trail, though, and that's gone: it's all new people out here. And often the people now are much more advanced than me: they started later, so they have to be stronger at the outset. I joined up with Heather and Tina Burrita in the afternoon: they started 10 days after I did, and here we are at the same spot. Of course, they did 22 miles today, plan to do 22 again tomorrow. I mean, I day-hike 22 miles, but thru-hike? They're in another league right now, so I'll have known them for this afternoon, probably won't even see them tomorrow morning (they're planning to head out around 5am--I usually wake just after that).

I had had ideas throughout the day to fix the arrhythmia. First I thought to take it easy, stop and enjoy more things. So I stopped at the Hot Springs when I got to it, talked to Art for quite some time. But that only made me feel even more out of place, the lone thru-hiker amongst a bunch of section- and day-hikers. Oh, we had seen a bunch of thru-hikers come through, one of the day-hikers had commented, there were so many of them! But that was about two weeks ago. Ok, now I felt far behind on the thru-hike. Later, I stopped at a little diving pool further down the trail, and it was nice to scramble around and watch a couple guys jump from rocks about two stories high into the pool below. But that just wasted time, so I made less miles: ok, now I felt far behind on the day.

My next idea was to "go back to Saturday", my version of HP's "go back to the garage", and resume my old aspect of just a crazy guy wandering around the trails to some insane tune only he can hear. To discard groups and tribes and the identities therein: I wasn't a PCT hiker, I was just me, out for another Saturday hike like every other Saturday. That lasted until I met some PCT hikers--the aforementioned Heather and Tina Burrita--and joined up with them, and again I was in a group, a tribe, and carried the label of PCT hiker. And as a thru-hiker, all the above mentioned deficiencies came back to the fore. Should I have stayed alone? No, probably not, I think it would have been tough, especially as the weather turned for the worse in the later afternoon. Being out alone in poor weather--as the wind starts blowing you over and the black clouds start coming over the mountain--and what's more *thinking* of yourself as out alone in poor weather, can be rough going. Better to go it with other folks. But it does mean my idea of "going back to Saturday" ultimately fell apart too. Pity: it was a good idea, it just didn't work today.

My final idea was to do an Andre: forget about distances or mileages and just walk for 10 hours. But that didn't bring in the miles--less than 15 again today--and that's over terrain that was fairly germane and level. Over terrain that should have lent itself to more miles. Pity: another good idea, it just didn't work today.

So all the rhythms are off, everything is out of phase. I can't tell whether I should go hard or stop and relax, I can't tell whether I should associate with more people or spend more time alone. I *can* tell that I don't feel like I belong out here right now, I feel like a fish out of water.  It's strange: go back to the day I left the trail and I felt at my peak, with things perhaps not ideal but under control. Leave the trail for four days, then come back and I'm at the other extreme, with things out-of-sync, and every attempt I make to get back in sync not working. So today?: today was not a good day. It's going to take some time and some work to get back to where I was before I left, and I'm trusting that it's possible to get back there because if you ask me, I can't see that future, I can only trust that it'll be there. Things had been going so well, and now suddenly they're all disjoint, all scattered, and I can't find any groove let alone The Groove. Ah well, nothing to do but get some sleep and see if it gets better tomorrow.

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Some notes:

-- Campsite > Hot Springs > Rainbow Bridge > Mojave River Forks Dam > Highway 173 > Campsite

-- I should give a better description of the day itself. I started at my campsite, then hiked 2 miles up to the Hot Springs where I had breakfast then decided to dip my feet in the hot water before dousing them in the cold. I also met Art, who was section hiking from Whitewater Preserve to this point, and talked with him for a good spell. All in all, I stayed at the Hot Springs for a couple hours before heading out. The trail at this point follows the canyon--almost gorge--carved by Deep Creek, heading downstream, usually riding high on the canyon wall. Below, Deep Creek often appears to be just still ponds of reflective water, but look more closely and you notice large boulders between the ponds; listen and you hear the rushing cascade of the water. Mostly the trail stays on one side of Deep Creek--the left--before crossing over to the right at the Rainbow Bridge. It was after the Rainbow Bridge that I found the diving spot--within sight of the end of the canyon--and hung out for a bit watching three strangers (including the two guys who jumped down into the water) although I didn't talk to them. From there the trail eventually leaves the canyon at the Mojave River Forks Dam, which is a big earthworks flood control structure. Here, to the north is the plateau upon which sits towns like Hesperia and Victorville, to the south are the mountains. At the base of one of the earthenworks, I met Heather and Tina and we hiked for a while together. The trail from here follows the foothills of the mountains, winding back and forth, gaining slight elevation although not much, but here it started to become very windy, and when we finally chose a campsite for the night, it was mostly to try and get out of the wind. We weren't completely successful, but our site did have some protection from the wind and we managed to stuff three tents there. That's the rough outline of the day.

-- Today I met Art, who was section hiking from Whitewater Preserve to the Hot Springs (where some friends would pick him up). He came to this idea on a near whim: he realized the PCT was there, decided to section hike a part of it, and was out here within a week. Art is a talkative guy, sounded like he'd done a lot of backpacking, and--to give some insight into backpacker mentality--had actually lost his wallet at mile 4. He realized this, then just continued on, figuring, hey, he didn't need his wallet in the wilderness anyway. And he seemed rather unconcerned about it even at the Hot Springs. This also meant he didn't head in to Big Bear to resupply since he didn't have any money. He finished at the Hot Springs, a distance of 90 miles or so, and when I left had taken a dip first in the hot water, then in the cold.

-- Art was also constantly on the lookout for two ladies he had broken camp with and should have gotten here by now. These turned out to be Heather and Tina Burita, who I passed at the Hot Springs, but who I would meet later, where Deep Creek passes through the earthenwork dams, while I was having lunch in the shade by the water. I would impromptu join then, then stop with them when they met Boomerang at the Highway 173 junction and from that point I think we were a hiking group for the day. After that, the trail got very windy and we would hunt for camping spots at the end of the day. I didn't learn much about Heather or Tina other than that Heather is a physical therapist based in Seattle, and Tina an occupational therapist based in the Bay Area, and Heather really doesn't like the wind. (In fact, so much so, that when we got to our campsite, Heather shed her pack then hiked ahead to check out some other sites: when a hiker goes 0.6 extra miles--even without her pack--in hopes of a less windy spot, she really doesn't like the wind.)

-- Boomerang was an older guy supporting his wife, Laura, who was doing the trail. He was driving around in a little camper, keeping track of her, cooking her food, helping with resupply. Similar to Randy "Arrow" and Laurie "Halfpint". Boomerang is actually a pharmacologist, so with Heather and Tina they discussed some solutions to various foot ailments. Boomerang also offered us cold drinks--Bubly sodas in various flavors--which we gladly accepted.

-- The "housekeeping sail": since I have a free-standing tent, when I tear down in the morning I'll open the door of the tent, then lift up the frame of the tent and tip it sideways so all the dust and debris falls out the door. I call this "housekeeping": it's my version of sweeping the floor. I do get a kick out of it just because it's so much easier than actual sweeping.

Finally, some more notes on the emotions of the day:

-- At the Hot Springs, when I got ready to get back on the trail, I off-handedly remarked to Art, well, time to get back to work, and immediately thought to myself, why did I just say that? This isn't work at all, shouldn't be work at all, this should be fun. I mean, it has been for so many days up to this point. Why would I suddenly say, time to get back to work? What's changed subconsciously?

-- And I fell today for the first time. Right after I started hiking with Heather and Tina, the PCT goes up a bank and then comes down a bit before settling to a level groove. This was just a little dirt thing, but Heather in front of me did say "don't fall, don't fall" as she went down it. I didn't, and I did. Scrapped up my knee, but other than that am fine. I did comment that of course I'd have to do this in front of people (and of course new people I just met) to thoroughly embarrass myself, but that joke didn't land even with me when I said it. Mostly, it was just an off-kilter day.

-- The wind did pick up in the late afternoon, pushing winds again, the type that drive you back as you go round the bend of this foothill. We hunted for a campsite out of the wind for a while, always looking ahead to maybe the next place the trail bends into a little canyon, maybe there's some protection there. The place we eventually chose was around a narrow dry creekbed: there were two spots near the trail and fairly protected, one spot further upstream and not. We fit Heather and Tina's tents in the two main spots, and then I camped on the use-trail leading up to the third. I set it up so that my sleeping pad would nestled in the groove of the use-trail, but that meant half my tent was going up a slope: it was strange to sit in my tent to take off my shoes, and have my feet be on the ground yet higher than my butt when doing so. We also put up rain flys since the clouds coming over the mountains were quite ominous, and there was a 10-20% chance of rain in the forecast. Going to be an interesting night.

-- I will note that, given the wind, we all worked together to stake out the footprint and inner tent for each person's setup. Tina's idea. So that was nice: the essence of trail people, everybody helping everybody else out, even if you only met them less than half a day ago.