Saturday, May 17, The Painted Turtle Nero
After a wonderful day volunteering at The Painted Turtle's tenth anniversary celebration, BSCM (Theresa) immediately whisked me back to the trail.
I slack packed for five miles, much in the dark with a headlamp. This little mileage made the next day manageable. 23 miles I can handle in a day, 28 miles would turn me to mush.
Sunday, May 18, Weaning Day
BSCM has been above and beyond incredible support on this crazy trek. But, all good things must end, and the weaning is starting.
I hopped out of the back of our cushy truck, and hit the trail for eight quick, easy (downhill, good tread) miles. She fed me breakfast and then made general plans for picking me up in five or six days.
While nibbling on breakfast we were visited by two BLM Law Enforcement Officers who asked if I had seen motorcycles on the trail, but more importantly gave me water cache information and gave BSCM information on how to get out of this unpleasant, foreboding, windy desert the quickest way possible. BSCM did not have pleasant experiences coming to get me, and returning me to the trail, for my day off. I'm being polite. The words "Pig Path" came up repeatedly, always preceded by a nasty adjective. The information from the BLM guys was the best gift BSCM could have received. She had informed me that she would only support at highways in the future, the bigger the highway the better...interstates preferably. She made it clear there would be no more "Pig Path" support. I understood BSCM's tone of voice well, 32 years of training have not been wasted!
I thought after leaving the Mojave Desert into a very nice forested area I was done with it, but I was oh so wrong.
The Mojave was back, with a vengeance, and was in fact windier than before. For much of it I felt as if I were walking into the wind with my body at a 45 degree angle. My sunglasses were imperative, and I wished I had goggles. The desert hat can be tightened as necessary. In this case "necessary" means my head may now be permanently shaped like an 8.
The plan was to make it to the next water cache by dark. It was a hard push with the wind. I arrived at the cache with plenty of water to spare, but I hadn't been able to cook due to the insane winds. My food intake was non-cook items such as jerky, granola bars, nuts, and dried fruit. It was not enough. Cooking was still out of the question thanks to the devilish winds, so I just climbed fetally into my sleeping bag, exhausted, and slept as sound as I would have had I been in a Holiday Inn Express. The wind just created a perfect white noise, and I nestled deep into my bag.
Monday, May 19, Eat Your Vegetables Before You Can Have Ice Cream
When I awoke I was much better, but amazingly the wind wasn't. My stomach was crying for something substantial to eat, but cooking was still out of the realm of possibility. I had heard another hiker talk of putting his oatmeal in water before going to bed and it was ready for him in the morning. I decided to try a shortened version of cooking without heat. I put three packages of oatmeal in with cold water and let it sit while I dressed and took down camp. By the time I was ready to go I had a meal.
Regarding this part of the trail I heard the saying "you have to eat your vegetables before you can have ice cream." This part (the vegetables) had to be passed through before the majestic Sierras (the ice cream) can be visited. The spring flowers and some of the cacti and other vegetation are nice, but soon there will be something different. Eating so many vegetables is getting old.
This was a lonely stretch of trail. The last person I saw was Theresa (BSCM) at about 10:00 a.m. Sunday morning. This cow skull had some indicators of some folks who had come by.
The wind seemed to be dying down a bit, I found a large rock, and decided to try to cook a meal. Dinner at 10:30 a.m.? Meals are totally random on the trail.
With the stove surrounded by the rock on one side, and me in near fetal position protecting the other three sides from the wind, two cups of water started heating. Then I turned, knocking the water off the Jet Boil. This wouldn't have been too bad, except, I had carried excess weight unnecessarily yesterday by carrying too much water and decided to carry much less water today. After adding more precious water I had a hot meal for the first time in two days. Energy returned.
The goal for the day was twenty plus miles and getting to Walker Pass Campground, and its water cache. My water rationing was going well until I finished my next to last liter of water. As I went to get the last container from the back of my pack I realized the lid had not been fastened securely, or had worked a bit loose with the jostling of the day had spilled about half a liter. The situation could have been worse except for a series of fortuitous circumstances. Eight miles of gentle sloped trail, good trail, cool for the desert, and that evil, horrid, wicked, nasty wind finally decided to let up.
About 5:00 p.m. I finally saw another person. A southbound section hiker, Goaltech, had what turned out to be critical information about water for the next day's hike. He also had trail magic in the form of chips. As we were visiting for just a couple minutes we were joined by a thru hiker from Germany. A day and a half without seeing anybody was replaced with this five minute meeting, but it was nice to see someone.
This stretch through the Kiavah Wilderness was not all ugly. There were increasingly more pinyon pine. Walking around a bend and seeing a sea of purple flowers brought smiles.
I strolled into Walker Pass at about 7:00 p.m. and went straight to the water cache. I was approached by another thru hiker, Homework, who invited me to trail magic at his camp. His father was there with his pickup and hotdogs, macaroni salad, and this other mashed potato and bean mixture...it was all delectable! I ate quite a bit, and better yet had great conversation with a couple of interesting people. This evening was quite a contrast to last evening. No wind.
As I went to put on Under Armour to get into my sleeping bag I found out what had happened to the water that had disappeared from my loose lid liter. No wearing Under Armour for this night. Luckily it didn't get too cold.
Tuesday, May 20, One Quarter Done
Having the luxuries of a picnic table, lots of water, and an outhouse made me decide to lounge a bit in the morning and not hit the trail until about 9:00 a.m..
Upon leaving Walker Pass, and crossing Highway 178, I entered the Owens Peak Wilderness. My pack looked slightly different from behind, as I had my Under Armour hanging on the outside, drying.
An almost unheard of event occurred this afternoon, I passed three hikers! I do not hike fast. I am usually the one being passed. The trail name Tortuga (turtle) is seriously appropriate. First I passed a twentyish couple from the University of Michigan. They were just on their second day into their intended hike from Highway 178 to Dunsmuir. They didn't have their trail legs yet. I made it further in one day than they had in two days. Then I passed Snail Trainer, a fortyish man from Britain. I was stunned when he told me he had started in mid-April, and was ahead of me. Then I found out why. He detests road walks, so he hitches rides for all of these, there have been four so far (two fire damage, one poodle dog bush, one Endangered Species protection). Hike Your Own Hike, he's loving his hike. At least now I understand how he got ahead of me while hiking so slow and starting after me. An unscientific observance is that a Tortuga appears to be faster than a Snail Trainer, but not much else.
The Owens Peak Wilderness has its nice views.
One fourth of the way done, and my clown shoes.
I tried my new bivy sack today with limited success. It did provide for added warmth.
Wednesday, May 21, Circle B Scout Camp, and then Being Tested
The highlight of my hike so far is what you see in the two, non-descript, pictures above. The map calls this place Lamont Meadows. That's wrong. That was, and to me always will be, Circle B Scout Camp. From the ages of 14 through 17 that was a magical place for me. For three of those years I got to work there for the entire summers. Fifty mile hikes, night hikes, campfires, kids with snakebites, running the commissary, and playing Here Comes The Sun instead of Reveille in the morning (because that's what a rebel Boy Scout does).
I hiked a mile out of the way to get a closer look at the camp. The camp sold right after my final year there and now belongs to three doctors from LA. The kitchen where I spent so much time is now a refurbished nice home. The staff building next door looks much, on the outside, like it did forty-one years ago.
As I was standing on the road looking in at the No Trespassing signs a DFG Warden pulled up. We chatted for quite a while. The vacation home had been vandalized two years ago. The owners are quite concerned about security since the incident. I had no idea that simply being there, and seeing Circle B again, would bring back such emotions.
When I was 15 years old my mother died. I had fully intended to work again the following summer at Circle B. I moved from California back to Virginia with my Uncle and his family with the understanding I would come back for Circle B in the summer. Once there a few months he thought it was best for me to stay in Virginia for the summer. This was a pivotal point in my life. I disagreed with him. My solution was simple. I was going to run away to go to Boy Scout Camp.
When he found out about my plans he bought me a plane ticket to California. After Circle B the summer of '72 I moved in with the Aria family, the life angels I wrote about in my earlier post titled Zero, Nero, then Go.
The wonderful smells, the sage, the Domeland Wilderness Area, and the Chimney Peak Wilderness area brought a flood of emotions.
This place was special, but by now I had spent enough time off trail. As I started hiking up a steady grade, the sky turned dark and it started sprinkling. After a while it started raining, then it really started raining! My plan was just to keep hiking through the rain, but then something magical was above the trail, a small cave.
After making sure there were no snakes inside I climbed in with my pack. Laying down, with knees bent next to my pack, I hunkered down for about an hour and a half through the worst of the storm.
I didn't realize how lucky I was until Thursday when I arrived at Kennedy Meadows and talked with the hoard of thru hikers congregating there. Many, many of them had trouble with wet gear and had miserable nights because of the storm.
Above was the view from the cave during the storm.
As I started hiking after the storm I was gaining elevation and a little snow. My feet got wet and cold in the snow. When I tried to sleep everything else was fine, but my feet were miserable. I solved this by sliding my gloves over my feet for warmth (both pairs of socks were wet). The gloves worked, and I slept great surrounded by an inch or two of fresh snow.
Thursday, May 22, KENNEDY MEADOWS
As I awoke there was frost on the bivy sack.
I cooked oatmeal and ate while still in my sleeping bag. When I finally got enough nerve to get out of the bag I hustled and hit the trail quickly. It turns out my quick is not the same as many others' quick. The miserable night had all thru hikers who were anywhere near Kennedy Meadows wanting to get there in a hurry. A "Barn Sour" horse is one that runs (sometimes uncontrollably) toward the barn at the end of a ride. All these hikers appeared barn sour. I was passed by eleven hikers before I got to Kennedy Meadows at 2:00 p.m.. Where were all these hikers on my lonely, miserable days in the desert just a few days ago?
Kennedy Meadows is a major milestone along the PCT. Located at mile 702, it is the last resupply point before entering the Sierras. From Kennedy Meadows it is about 240 miles until the trail crosses a road again. Resupply plans are compared, dismissed, rated, and changed. Most hikers had major resupply items sent to the Post Office. It started sprinkling again just as I walked up to the General Store. It never developed into the mess of Wednesday.
Arizona greeted me as I showed up. He guided me to Kennedy Meadow Tom's. KM Tom has a series of beat up old trailers and campers PCT hikers can stay in for a donation. It's first come, first serve. Arizona immediately taking me there was key to me sleeping in a bed and being especially comfortable for the night.
The hamburgers at the combination store/Post Office/hamburger stand, had to be the best in the world. They may have actually tasted like wood, but to all coming off the trail they were fantastic! I had one big burger meal, then went back an hour later for another. Hikers also annihilated their candy inventory in the store.
The three dollar outdoor shower was fabulous, but then I had to put my stinky old clothes back on. Nobody walking around Kennedy Meadows seems to notice the stench of hikers.
The biggest shock of all was seeing Hemlock and Me Too walking onto the patio. I hadn't seen them for about 200 miles, since Hikertown. I had been following their progress in the trail registers and they were consistently three and four days ahead of me. I had not expected to see them again.
They had taken a couple days to prepare for entering the heart of the Sierras, and the day they took off was the day of the storm. They were at higher elevations, with a lot more snow, and blizzard conditions. Then one of the group blacked out due to some medication. They had to stay the night in the cold, and then return to Kennedy Meadows. They were very disappointed, but I was thrilled to see them again.
Coincidentally, the first time I met Hemlock was when she was the caregiver at the head of Mission Creek from about five weeks ago (450 miles ago) on the San Bernardino NF when Pathfinder fell ill. In that situation a Search and Rescue EMT rappelled in to provide assistance.
BSCM is meeting me at Kennedy Meadows. I will resupply, and take two or three days off trail to recuperate and get ready for the crown jewel of the PCT.
At mile 702, Kennedy Meadows. The Southern California portion of the trail is now completed!
