Day 108: Mile 1613.7 - 1634.6

Tough day today. There was the trail--we just did 20.9 miles today, but they say that not all miles on the PCT are the same. And today, the miles were a lot of up, then down, then up, then down, then up, then down. Start to finish I don't think there was much elevation change today, but in between, man alive, there was all manner of change. The ups tended to be short but steep, the downs as well, and it all added up to a lot of stress on the feet: my feet actually felt tender by the end of the day and I was glad to reach the campsite!

In terms of the trail itself: today was mostly ridge walks, mostly going saddle-to-saddle. The trail also crossed through a lot of high meadows: it'd walk through some woods--some living, some burned--then the trunks would break and there'd be a mountain meadow, cascading down the slope, usually with a creek running down the middle (sometimes flowing, sometimes bone dry), and all about the creek there'd be wildflowers. Lots of wildflowers. Double Snacks wondered what would be the best time for wildflowers up here, and I'm not sure now wouldn't be it! The Indian paintbrush was in bloom--in red, in orange, in pink, sometimes with extra yellow petals--the fireweed was too, and lots of other flowers: one that looked like bushwheat (but wasn't--I just don't know many flower names), one that looked like purple daisies (but wasn't), some bright yellow flowers whose names also escape me. The flowers would crowd around the ostensible creekbed, and suddenly spattering of leafy green, and sometimes I'd have to push to get through.

And the meadows were pretty, make no mistake. And in this section, the mountains just above them had interesting rock formations too. So all was set to be at least an interesting day, scenery-wise.

Only I didn't get much of a look at the scenery, for two reasons. First, the climbs. Early in the day, as I passed Double Snacks on a climb, I said I'm not looking at the scenery I'm just focusing on the climb. And she replied, well, you can look at the scenery at the top. Which is true and reassuring. But also, in my mind at least, belies a bigger debate. Because there's the question of being present on the trail. Which usually entails *seeing* the stuff that's out there. But when I climb, I don't, I just see the 10 feet in front of me. But while this used to bother me, by now I think it's ok. Partially because there's no other way I'm getting up these climbs, and partially because of what Big Brother mentioned a while back: the priority is the hiking, everything else is secondary. So whatever gets you from Point A to Point B, especially if Point B is at higher elevation, that works. And if that's actually seeing the views on the way to Point B, great. And if that's not seeing the views but just focusing on the 10 feet in front of you all the way to Point B, great.   

(Another line: I remember Kyle (Stewart) once said that he went on a hike when he was young, the kids all in a line, and the hike leader said look down in front of you. You see that? Those are the shoes of the person in front of you. Now you've seen them. So during the hike, no need to look at them, instead look up. Again, a good sentiment--a great sentiment--but it doesn't always work that way. And it's ok if it doesn't: for this one, if the trail is rocky or otherwise technical, you're going to be looking down--as probably you should! Rather I think the point becomes to remember to look up every now and then to *see* the scenery. But if you're in don't-trip-don't-fall mode for a goodly spell, then look up and take a breath and a view, then go back to don't-trip-don't-fall, I think you're doing alright.)

The second reason was more personal: today I found out that Dylan and Uno are getting off trail. Which is a bummer. I found out in the morning, when I got a burst of signal on a ridge, and I didn't reply immediately, but instead ruminated about it all day. How should I reply? And I considered trying to convince them to stay on trail, trying to come up with reasons, but came up empty. The reasons to do the trail are intensely personal, so my reasons likely aren't convincing for you. Plus, they've *been* on trail, they *know* what it's like and what's at stake in leaving. And besides, at the end of the day I realized I wasn't going to be able to convince them of anything. It's not *me* that can convince them, it's the trail itself: if come a week from now, in normal life, they get the itch to get back out here, *that's* what will convince them, not anything I say. But it took me a day of mulling to fully realize that. (There is a line from Luke 16:31 that I find increasingly true in life: If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, then they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.) I got some signal again here at the campsite this evening, so I sent some text messages back, mostly lamenting that they're off the trail, talking about the section I'd just hiked (from Etna on, where the scenery goes from woods woods woods, to something with some rocks and thus, more interesting), and wishing them the best. If they wanted to, I'm sure they could make it to Canada--they have the physical ability to and, if they put their mind to it, the mental fortitude for it as well. But I know that lots of real life issues also start to come into play, so it's not all just the physical and mental. I didn't pry much into their reasons for leaving--from previous conversations I know some of the story but not all, and I'm not skilled enough at controlling tone while texting to seek further details. So I'll leave at this: it sucks that they're getting off trail. And I hope they get back on trail--of course!--but that's just hope, it's not prescriptive in any way. And, yeah: it sucks that they're getting off trail. 

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Some notes:

-- Fischer Lake > Marten Lake > Black Marble Mountain > Paradise Lake > Buckhorn Spring > Campsite

-- In the morning, we passed by Marten Lake. Yesterday, we had debated whether to camp at Fischer Lake (which was earlier) or Marten Lake (which was later), eventually going with the former, even though I--as is my wont--always opt for pushing for more miles. But Fischer Lake was the right choice: Marten Lake didn't have much in the way of campsites (at least that I could see from the trail), and the campsites that were there were pretty exposed and wouldn't have done well in the thunderstorms. So going with Fischer Lake last night--which was a Double Snacks call--ended up being the smarter choice.

-- This section is pretty dry, which is strange: we're walking these ridge lines and it seems every time we look down into the valleys and vales, there's a lake down there. So there's water down there, just nothing up here, where we're at: we're walking along, measuring out water and calculating how much to carry to the next source, while constantly looking and ohhing and ahhing at the stuff down below! Ah well, the Pacific *Crest* Trail, they call it!

-- So Wetfoot--who I met back on the bus to Red's Meadow and *happened* to sit in the seat in front of me and *happened* to look over her shoulder and talk *possibly* out of sheer boredom (it was a long and crowded bus ride)--camped with us tonight and introduced me to an ingenious system for eating peanut M&Ms. Because she has the same problem I have with that "sharing size" 10.7 oz bag of peanut M&Ms: these days, I'll just eat the whole bag in one sitting. But Wetfoot, she only eats *one* *color* *each* *day*. So today she'll only eat the brown ones (say), and tomorrow she'll only eat the orange ones (say), and so on. And this, to my mind, is *brilliant*. This, to my mind, is *sheer* *genius*. I mean it, this is uncommonly ingenious. And I will have to do it myself!

-- We were supposed to have thunderstorms today in the afternoon, and that gets me down: I still don't like rain. That attitude will have to change, but evidently not today! Because there was no rain. Instead, while big puffy clouds started to gather at midday, and their bottoms started to fill with gray, but late afternoon we had hiked to a region where those puffy clouds were behind us, and instead the skies above were almost clear, but wisped with a thin gauze of cloud. And the smell of smoke: looking south, a few ridges over we could see what looked a fire burning over there, the smoke curling into the valleys between, and rendering the sunlight a strangely yellow. I had smelled smoke off an on throughout the day whenever the breeze blew, but now it became more prominent. So it seems no storms and no rain today, but we traded it for smoke and fires. Hmm, I'm not sure we came out ahead!

-- A story about water. So both Skippy and Double Snacks had gotten water at the cow pasture back on Day 105, and both had noted that the water smelled of cow poop. Which is not good. Double Snacks had promptly washed out her CNOC bag with soap and water in Etna, and flowed water through her Sawyer too, to remove the smell. As for Skippy, she tried to run a small smidgen of dish soap through her Sawyer to get rid of the smell. But now it seems her Sawyer is giving her bubbles, and the water now tastes mildly of soap! Which likely isn't healthy. So now both are pretty paranoid about cows: any time a water source even mentions cows being around in the Guthooks comments, Double Snacks will skip it and try for the next one!