Day 56: Mile 659.7 - 683.1
So last night I had *thought* that maybe the wind would die down at night. I was wrong: if anything, it got worse. I had *thought* that maybe my new location would shelter me from any latent wind. I was kinda right, but also kinda wrong: I didn't get the wind directly--I could hear that, though, screaming at the bluff just above me--but I just got the turbulence in its wake. But that turbulence was enough to knock out a couple of tent stakes (just the ones holding the vestibules up, but the tentsite was so narrow that the vestibules were vestigial anyway, so weren't in there too steadily to begin with--the other stakes I put rocks on, and only one of those came loose) and the tent kept smacking me throughout the night. Made for very inefficient sleep. So while I had *thought* an early bedtime would mean an early rise, in fact I slept so on-and-off that I rose late.
But at least I broke camp quickly: from waking to hiking a little over an hour. New record! And, yes, it was still windy as a broke camp, albeit nothing as bad as in the night. And, yes, everything in the tent was covered in silt--the most I've seen so far. So that's why my pillow felt gritty all night!
The goal for today was just miles: make miles. Make 20+ miles. If nothing else, I just wanted to see if I could do it: you're "supposed" to be able to make 25-mile days in the desert, and I'd never done even one of those. Today I didn't either--just 23.4 miles--but I did prove that 1) I can do 20+ mile days *without* pushing (that's the important part), 2) my feet are clearly stronger now: some pronating steps I made that previously would have caused pain now went by without a hitch, and 3) in theory, my top speed is about 3 mph, which is an improvement from my starting top speed of 2.5 mph. All good things, even if I didn't necessarily reach the 25 mile mark. And all this over multiple climbs and descents: I counted about 2 climbs over the day? Nothing too severe--all at the 500 feet/mile grade which, in today's sunny-but-not-hot weather, with its wind-that-blows-through-at-select-junctures, is entirely in infinite incline territory--but still, that's 23+ miles over rising and falling terrain.
Ah, but what about the hike itself? Well, one of the consequences of hitting 23+ miles is that, honestly, I don't pay as much attention to what's around me, I tend to zero-in on the hiking. Which is good: the hiking is arguably the best part of the trail (and thank goodness, because I'm going to have to do an awful lot of it!). But is also bad because, let's see, we can down a canyon, then went up and canyon, then came down, then seemed to go up over the same canyon, then come down, yeah. The scenery was a lot of old trees, usually sparse-on-slopes, but sometimes wooded-on-flatter-hills, enough to provide some shade throughout the day. Very same-y throughout the day, little variety. There were some hints at the granite underneath these hills and mountains: the rocky tips would sometimes show at the top. And at a couple of spots the view opened out east over the Mojave, and that was cool to see. But other than that, nothing that I remember especially well.
Instead, what I remember are some of the people encounters. In the morning, I caught up with Hang'n Out: he had camped about 3 miles before me, and had a night of hearing the wind, but feeling none of it. He started early, around 5:30am, passed me, and then I caught up with him and we talked some. Talked about college--he had had some pretty outrageous professors--talked about cars, talked about consumerism. Talked about numbers: he randomly noted that he preferred fractions over decimals for irrational numbers, and this just before we passed the 1/4 sign. Strangely serendipidous!
Oh, and we passed the 1/4 sign (i.e., we've finished 1/4 of the trail), so--as someone noted on Guthooks--we are officially sophmores. I will say I don't *feel* like a sophmore: I still feel like I don't entirely know what I'm doing. I certainly don't feel like a thru-hiker yet. These other folks out here, the ones doing 25-30 miles a day, the ones cowboy camping everywhere, the ones who are much more spontaneous and free: those folks are the thru-hikers. Me, I'm just a day-hiker who happens to carry a tent. But passing the 1/4 sign was good: as Hang'n Out said, that means we only have to do this 3 more times! Which is better than when I passed the 10% sign and thought, gees, I have to do this 9 more times?! (Hang'n Out will tell you that, in addition to being a couch potato before starting the trail, he was also a carton-a-week smoker. American Spirits only--he's a self-admitted "bit of a snob when it comes to cigarettes". He meant to quit two years when he decided to do the trail, but he still smokes: buys a pack whenever he gets into town, smokes it until he runs out, then "quits" until the next town. As someone pointed out: that sucks, that means you've quit cold turkey like a dozen times or something! Yeah, he said, I have, and yeah, it does. But Hangn' Out also gave me a bunch of advice on proper breathing techniques--nose breathing, box breathing the like--which is the only way he can continue to smoke--although he's down to maybe a carton-a-month if not longer--and still make these climbs!)
The other person I saw today was at the Chimney Creek. I was coming up on the creek, which was just a stale pool at the trail crossing, and was about to turn right to go to the official campground (where supposedly the faucet is on), when I noticed a car parked over at the side of the road. Hmm, that's strange, so I checked it out. And there was a sign: Ron's Cafe. And who was there but Ron, the selfsame Ron from the North Fork Ranger Station! The one Mark and I had talked with! I greeted him, he recognized me, and we talked. He was doing trail magic--I got a Gatorade from him (the red one), and--get this!--two hot dogs! Two hot dogs, in buns, with ketchup! Pretty amazing! But more amazing was just talking to Ron. When I saw it was him, I just lit up I was so happy. One of first Confucian lessons taught to young children is "you pong tsong yuan fang lai, bu yi le fu?", which roughly (i.e., badly) translates into "when friends visit from afar, is that not joyous?", and yes, yes it was. I got to hear some more stories, got to tell some of my own. I told him about getting sick above Tehachapi and turning back, and he said, "I applaud your decision". Because a lot of these younger guys would have kept going, and eventually been stuck in the desert with no water and sick where the only recourse is to be airlifted out, but you did the right thing and turned back. That was a huge pick-me-up: that someone with Ron's pedigree--he's done the PCT at least twice but I get the sense he's done it more than that--thought I made a good choice there. The other compliment he gave me was when he asked my age. 43, I replied. Ah, he said, because you look young but you sound mature. And that--well, the second part--I took as a huge compliment. (The first part should be a compliment to my parents--it's their genetics! Actually, come to think of it, the second part should be a compliment to them too--it was their upbringing. Ah well, I'm going to take some credit for it as well anyway!) Finally, as I was heading out, Ron said goodbye, then said "have fun!". We had been talking about the upcoming Sierras right before then, and he had said that the Sierras, well, and his eyes had gotten wide. The Sierras are 10 out of 10, he said, other places people will mention, 8 out of 10, maybe 9 out of 10, but the Sierras 10 out of 10. You'll get some great stories from there. Then: have fun.
And that really hit me. Because for the past few days I've been concentrating on getting in miles, vaguely trying to catch up with folks and lamenting being behind, but as Ron reminded me, have fun. Because without having fun, the trail becomes a grind and then becomes a fight, and never--*never*--fight the trail, because the trail will *always* win. (It's like the house at a casino in that regard: you might win a hand and think, ha, you've won!, but it's playing the long game--literally--and in the long game, the statistics are *not* on your side!) Now if my fun happens to be making miles, then so be it, but don't make miles from a place of despair. In perhaps one of the most famous passages of 1 Corinthians, Paul notes that "these three remain: faith, hope, and love". He identifies love as the greatest, sure, but for me hope is the one that I needs learn now. Because--in my theologically suspect opinion--from hope comes positivity and joy, that idea that, in a real and non-cynical way (cf "We Happy Few" for the cynical way), "happiness is a choice". That attitude *can* be chosen, *is* chosen, so if an attitude doesn't work, try choosing another one. And have you tried "hope"?
And a second thing from Ron: he said, going through the Sierras, "you'll have a lot of good stories". Which I took to mean: when writing up these blogs, think more in terms of story rather than list of what happened. The point isn't to be complete--this isn't a travel itinerary--the point is to tell a good story, or give a good feel for the day. And I'll fail in this--I'll fall back to laundry lists because those are structures right there, that you can just reach out and graspf, they're easy and readily available and work--but for at least a moment I'm reminded: don't fall back on "this happened, then that happened, then this third thing happened", but tell *stories*.
I could have stayed at Ron's spot and talked a lot more--he's been here since last Saturday and will stay until this Saturday when he'll probably run out of supplies--but I decided to head out in the end, going for another 2 miles or so to put me clearly above 20 miles for the day. And that's where I'm at now, in a campsite next to a creek, with *no* wind (oh, so nice!), feeling pretty ok and hoping for a good night's sleep!
And that was the hike!
-- Campsite > Joshua Tree Spring > Spanish Needle Creek > Chimney Creek (Ron's Cafe) > Fox Mill Spring
-- I tried some new sleep techniques last night: 1) tried an augmented pillow where I stuff all my clothes into my sleeping bag stuff sack and use the whole thing as a pillow. Theory is that it'll elevate the head more, keep my nose from getting as stuffed up. It worked ok last night, we'll see if it continues to work. And 2), tried using my sleeping bag "upside down" so that the hood portion is above instead of below. This allowed me to hike my face more, which was good: the only way I'd get good sleep was to bury my face under the hood and muffle out the sound of the wind. So that worked, and that's a possibility to keep in the bag of tricks. (And, yes, I know you're not supposed to bury your face in your bag because the moisture from your breath will compromise the down: you're also not supposed to freeze your face off, or not sleep because the wind is howling too loudly, either, so I think we're even!)
-- Incidentally, if you're following the inReach maps then you might note that it reporting "speed max" higher than 3 mph. Don't believe it--I don't know how they calculate that. My 3 mph mark comes from measuring my PCT mile once an hour, and seeing how far I've gone. So it's technically 3 "PCT miles hiked in one hour", but that's long too long to say so, yeah, 3 mph.
-- Just some examples of Ron's humor. 1) There's a trail register just after Ron's Cafe, and to it's lid Ron had affixed a note: if you just passed Ron's Cafe and didn't stop, why not? 2) Ron's a triple crowner (he's done the PCT, AT, and CDT), and I think he may be a double triple crowner, but he's a bigger guy now. As he said back at North Fork, I'm not a thru-hiker anymore, but I still eat like a thru-hiker.
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