Day 50: Mile 566.5 - 583.3

(So am I ready to get back on trail today? Well, the stomach still feels a little uneasy. Partially that's because there was too much fried stuff and cheese in my dinner from TKs last night. Partially that's because I'm always nervous when heading back out on trail. And likely partially that's the illness, slowly winding down. Hmm, so am I ready to get back on trail today? Well, I'm going to get back on trail today, so, honestly, it doesn't matter!)

Today I got back on trail. In the morning, I got a ride from Rae, a trail angel, who graciously drove me out to Interstate 58. And I got out, and I stood there fiddling with my straps and starting up all my tracking, and then I took a step, and another, and another. And you know what? It felt good! It felt good to be out here again and moving and hiking! The body liked it, and the mind felt, yeah, this feels right! And although I clearly wasn't at 100%, and there clearly was no reserve gear (couldn't pull any afterburner shenanigans where I dig deep and power through), still it felt good!

I started pretty late, 11:40am, in the heat of midday. But that's what the umbrella is for and it worked well for the first part of the trail, where it parallels I-58. I signed the trail registry at the gate again, then headed along the parallel section and a bit along the climb up the mountain. I stopped about 2 miles in, at a stand of juniper bushes that provided shade from the sun and protection from the wind. I wanted to try something. This section--from Tehachapi to Walker Pass--is the driest and sometimes hottest part of the trail. Lots of folks will therefore night-hike it: they'll sleep most of the day, then get up mid-to-late afternoon when it's starting to cool down and hike until midnight or even an hour or two past that. For example, that's what Uno and Dylan were planning on doing. So I figured I'd give it a shot.

So, I found a spot and settled in to wait out the hottest part of the day--the trail here climbs up about 2000 feet, so waiting for a cooler time is worth it! I took off my shoes, set my solar panel out to charge my phone, ate lunch, then popped my umbrella and curled up, half in the shade of the junipers, half in the shade of the umbrella, and went to sleep. Usually hikers will pull out their ground sheets during siesta but I wasn't that fancy, just slept on the ground. (To be fair, this spot is used as a campsite, so the dirt here is fairly hard-packed and swept.) Napped for about an hour then set out around 3pm.

Now I'd done this climb before so was pretty familiar with it. And I also hoped that today would be a windy day--not unlikely, given there's a wind farm just across the interstate from this mountain!--and I wasn't disappointed. The umbrella was now stowed, and whenever the trail turned to walk the western facing side of the mountain I would pause, open my arms, and let the winds sweep the heat away. I climbed up to where I had camped last, then passed it and entered new territory.

From here, the PCT changes from a scrub-brush desert environ, to a short-bush wooded environ. It was quite nice, actually: sometimes the bushes would grow tall enough to count as trees, and drop shade on the trail. The trail itself wound around the edges of a couple of canyons, often granting views of these little cliffs embedded in the sides, where multi-colored strata jagged across the exposed rock. The trail wound it's usual serpentine path along the ridges and near-ridges, before eventually intersecting an ATV road (or, more specifically, an OHV road) and uncharacteristically joining it for a few miles. After a while, it jumps off and gets back to trails, again walking the side of a canyon, going in and out with the slopes.

By this time, it was pretty late and the night-hiking portion of the hike was kicking in. Now I've done night-hiking before: one of the consequences of hiking ANF for my Saturday hikes is that, after 2 hours drive to the trailhead, 20 miles on the feet, and the early-year sunset times, more often than not I was finishing my hikes in the dark. There's a certain appeal to night-hiking, in LA it's often the chance to see the lights of LA sprawled out to the horizon, and to indulge that sense of separation (they're there in their own worlds, their concerns lit by a million streetlights and houselamps and headlights, but I'm up here, in this big big world) but still that sense of comraderie (but being up here isn't "better" in any way, for their lights, even from up here--*especially* from up here--are so so beautiful). But for some reason, I wasn't feeling it out here. There were city lights, but they were far far away, and I felt no closeness with, or interest in, them. And even the blinking lights of the windmills to the north--when I had camped before I got sick, I remember looking out in the dusk and seeing the lights of Tehachapi on my right, the lights of Palmdale (?) on my left, and in between the red lights of the windmills, blinking in block unison like some giant Christmas tree--I saw those lights again here, but instead of the warmth of Christmas, I just felt the isolation of the wilderness. And so this night-hiking experience wasn't that great, just a lot of not-tripping, a lot of wind (it got really gusty when the sun went down), and not a lot of views (which I suspect is the biggest problem--seeing the views is one of the highlights of the day for me, and night-hiking necessarily precludes that).

And night-hiking has another problem: you get into camp late--which I did--and you see a tent already set up, and you try not to shine your headlamp on it to not bother the occupant, and now you're trying to find a campsite in the dark without illuminating that other tent--it gets tricky. I had planned to camp around Golden Oaks Spring, but eventually left the spring and went uphill along a road a little bit and picked a site up there, far from the lone tent that had set up in a perfect spot next to the spring. It was a windy night, and I took a page from that other tent and setup my tent but *not* the rain fly: even though my spot was pretty sheltered, sometimes a strong gust would blow through, and with the rain fly omitted, it would literally just blow through the mesh top of my tent. But I set it up in the dark, was hungry but too tired to cook so just ate a breakfast (which just requires a quick cold soak rather than firing up the stove), and called it a night. 

And that was the hike! Overall it was a pretty lonely day: I saw all of 3 people all day? Two seeming day-hikers going the other way near I-58, one hiker making camp around 5pm on the mountain (I don't count the tent at the spring since I didn't see the occupant, but even counting them the count would only be 4). But this was fine: I was trying out this new night-hiking jazz, and honestly, not a big fan. I think I'll drop it for this section and do it the old-fashioned way--in the light of day--and will have to just suck-up the heat! 

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Some notes:

-- Tehachapi > Interstate 58 > Golden Oaks Spring

-- Today I met Rae, the trail angel. She was the second number I called, picked up quickly. Hi, I said, I'm charlie a PCT hiker and I'm looking for a ride to Interstate 58? Sure, she said, what time. Well, whenever's most convenient for you, I replied, going to my standard line. Whenever's fine, she said, what time? Well, I'd like to get there late morning, early afternoon time frame so. Sure, she said, what time? This was the third time she'd asked, and she hadn't put forward any time of her own, so I said, how about now? Sure, she said, where are you at? The Surestay. Ok, she said, I'll be there in 5 minutes in a red car. Oh, I said, ok, let me get downstairs then. And, 5 minutes later, I was in a red car and off to the trail!

-- We talked a bit in the car. Rae asked where I was from. The last hiker had been from Brazil, so I think I was a bit disappointing when I said Orange County. Rae had lived in Tehachapi for 40 years now, and liked it well enough: it was a quiet place, but drive 2-3 hours and you could be anywhere--the beach, the city, Vegas. Retired now, but she had worked on the wind farm, collecting data from the windmills: when they were first installed in the 80s (I had no idea the wind farms had been there that long), it was long before WiFi so she had to physically visit each tower to pull the data. I think she also analyzed the data, but I didn't get to that part of the conversation. She did note that the first generation windmills generated kW of power, but quickly evolved in MW. I asked her about the generations of windmills that I'd seen and she roughly confirmed them, noting that the smaller white windmills--the ones with the red tips--that spun much faster than the bigger, newer windmills from Vestas--the smaller windmills actually generated less power even though they spun much faster. Oh, and she confirmed that, yes, the windmills do turn and tack into the wind; it sounded like from what she said it was a passive system, or one that used a simple feedback loop. Finally, when she found out I was an electrical engineer, she left me with a problem: why, she asked, can't we power cars off solar? I gave some lame response about efficiency--the panels don't generate enough energy to power a full car, even under Tehachapi-level sun--but she seemed unconvinced. Something to think about on the trail, she said, with a laugh.

-- Here's the real embarassing part: I forgot that, back in undergrad, Alex had worked on the solar car project for many years, and I'd even gone to the workshop and helped out one night (and gotten myself a Mingus Works T-shirt for my trouble, which I still have even today). And that was, what, 20 years ago? So solar cars are indeed viable, just they're likely still concept vehicles, and would be without the amenities we've come to expect of cars, like legroom, and a trunk, and safety measures. Of course, that was 20 years ago, so many things have improved since then?

-- Ok, back to trail stuff. So the trail starts parallel to I-58 and within full view of the freeway. And as I was walking, at one point I suddenly noticed that someone was honking--honk honk honk!--but traffic was moving fine so that was weird, and as I was scanning the freeway I saw a car with two faces in the windshield waving up at me, and I hurriedly waved back, and I think--I *think*--it was just in time that they saw it! Oh, I hope so!

-- When I got to the top of the mountain, around where I had camped all those days ago, I looked out and saw that, far ahead white puffy clouds had gathered, including a couple tall and anvil shaped. And I imagined that the people I'd met who were now ahead of me, they were under that. So I shouldn't begrudge them their lead--they might be ahead but they might also be in a storm--and instead, wherever I'm at, well, that's just going to have to be fine.

-- There were lots of comments on Guthooks complaining about the road walk, but personally it was fine. Single-track trails, use-trails, even animal trails, are all fine by me, as are dirt roads, fire breaks, truck trails, even bushwhacks if I'm not in no rush. The only thing I don't like are paved roads--asphalt just takes the life out of my legs so quickly! But maybe the complaints are just for the puns--there were a lot playing on "dirty" for the dirt road--and that impulse I understand. Had to pass up a good pun! And were I more clever (to come up with them), and were I younger (to find them irresistible), indeed, I too would likely prefer wordplay to truth and indulge. But, alas, I am neither, and so I can but say: dirt roads are still dirt, which is not asphalt, and so is fine.

-- Dylan had mentioned that he saw a lot more animals when night-hiking--not as many as Uno, the "animal whisperer" (evidently she saw all manner of everything when they had hiked the Colorado Trail together)--but still lots. But all I saw was a bunch of sparkle spiders and a single little scorpion--I've seen more than that coming into the Candy Store at night in CNF! So, nope, no augmented animal sightings when night hiking either!

-- This evening I did get pretty down for a bit when I opened Guthooks and looked at the water situation. There's a section coming up that's 48 miles between natural water sources! Well, when I saw that it floored me: how am I going to get past that! Flummoxed, I lay down for a bit, then went back to Guthooks and started checking the map for road crossings rather than water symbols. And, lo and behold, about halfway through that 48-miles stretch the trail crosses a road and some trail angel has established a large water cache. Whew! Ok, emotions back to normal, panic averted, back in business. Still, though, it looks like in this section it'll end up being about 25 miles between water sources--natural or trail-angel water cache--so there are going to be some long water carries!