Fourth Day Southern California. 10 May 2018

I never thought that on day 3 of my hike I would be taking a Nero.  But the Mount Laguna Lodge became a beacon of hope for me yesterday as I faltered on the trail.  Thoughts of a shower, quilt covered bed, clear cold water, real food, and  safety swam in my hot mind.  And when I awoke this morning at 6:30am, I knew instinctively that I had to find a way to recover quickly or move on.  I could not hike today.  The thought of packing up and going out into the heat again to hike another 15 miles filled me with silent apprehension - so very quiet and yet so weighted and tight.   The man who provided me with the room yesterday afternoon told me I would need at least 2 days to recover.  But I didn’t want to stay at the lodge.  I thought about going into Julian 22 miles away to pick up the Big Agnes tent Julie had sent me.  I called the local shuttle service to find out how much it would cost and when I could arrange a pick up.  But I was told that the distance wasn’t long enough so they would not be able to drive me.  Which of course this meant I would have to hitch the 22 miles or find a Trail Angel who would be willing to drive.   I decided to wait till I could get some coffee from the store which opened at 9am.   My plan would be to go to Julian, pick up the tent, spend the night at the Julian Hotel and then come back to Mount Laguna to resume the hike where I left off.  I would have to forgo the  1.7 miles I missed when I called for assitance yesterday at the dirt road.   I had at least an additional 2 miles of non PCT paths yesterday so in my mind that would make up for the missed 1.7 miles.  

When I purchased my coffee I was told check out was at noon and that I would have till 10am to decide if I was going to stay another night. 

I went back to my room and thought about my options.  I was still not feeling well.  I did manage to eat a small dinner last night and some breakfast this morning.  But I still felt highly thirsty and my legs felt shaky.  I knew that if I hiked today, I would experience the same complications from yesterday.  And I just couldn’t put myself through that again.   The PCT was not the experience I wanted.  I knew that I was only 4 days into the hike.  I knew I needed to give myself time to adjust to the climate and heat.  But then and there I realized that I did not want to hike in the heat with very little water. I knew the next section was a 28 mile waterless stretch.  And I knew that that meant carrying 6-7 liters of water and being desperately thirsty.   I wanted to enjoy this hike. I didn’t want to hike with an umbrella each day to combat the sun’s rays.   I thought about changing the hike and starting from the north and hiking south.  I thought about leaving the PCT.   I read over my lists of why I was hiking the PCT, what I wanted to get out of the experience and what I would feel if I quit.   But in my mind, I kept seeing myself with my head in my hands, sitting on the side of the trail wondering if I would make it to the next water source or the next landmark or the next campsite.   I saw myself heaving on the side of the trail unable to keep water in my system.  I saw myself struggling, fighting for each step.  All images that left me clinging to the idea of hiking.  And it was almost 10am.  And it was time to make a decision.  And I acted fast, responding to everything I was feeling.  Swirling emotions mixed with desperate uncertainties. Where was the initial joy?  Where was the dream of hiking this trail and being strong and brave and stubborn?   I simply could not find those once plentiful qualities.  They were left on the side of the trail yesterday in blurry, hot streams of exhaustion and heaves of disappointment.  I wasn’t disappointed in myself.  I was disappointed that I was not loving the PCT.   I so wanted to love this trail.   

Within minutes I had booked my train trip back to Ohio.  Within another set of minutes I had booked the shuttle to take me back to San Diego.  And within the spaces that hover between those minutes, I was suddenly calm and at peace and so very very accepting of everything in those fast moments - the delicate, complex and path altering moments that would take me away from the Pacific Crest Trail.   

Before I emabarked on this hike, my father told me that when he was a very young man, he left Ohio to pursue his dream of playing professional baseball.  It was something he felt compelled to pursue.   It was his dream to swing that bat and field those baseline hits.   My father loves baseball.  But after three days, he had come to the conclusion that playing at the professional level was not going to be his ultimate life’s pursuit.  He went back home.  And he had peace knowing that he had tried.  He could now live the rest of his life with the assurance that he had reached the conclusion of that singular dream.   My father told me that if at any point I felt it was not working for me, that leaving was not failure or quitting but moving on and understanding that I had tried and maybe that would be enough.   

I don’t regret leaving my job, my apartment, New York City to attempt this hike.  I would do it again even knowing everything I learned about the PCT in Southern California.   I don’t see myself as a quitter or someone who racks up one failure after another.   I see myself as a courageous, strong and brave person who fell in love with the idea of hiking across the country along a path filled with wonder.  But the path wasn’t for me.  At least not the path in Southern California.   I am truly proud of my experience.   I will keep it with me for the rest of my life.   

And I am already hard at work on Plan B for this summer.  I will hike along the Colorado Trail with my sister and brother in law.   I love hiking.  And I don’t want my love for hiking to diminish because of the past 4 days.   I want to take everything I have learned and use that knowledge on the immediate future.   So this writing is not yet done. And this summer of hiking is not yet done.  And the PCT will be there.  Waiting.  And maybe one day, I will find my feet along that pathway again.  But not like 2018.  And not any time soon. 

So that’s that.  I am heading home via Seattle with no real answers to any questions I had in my mind before the trail.   No answers.  Only a belief that life is an adventure.  All of it.  And sometimes you go off and find a new path.  And sometimes that path leads you far and farther still.   And then other times it barely goes anywhere.  But it’s still a part of you.  Forever.  

Maybe we're still lost
Maybe we'll never learn
But as the dust settles down and I'm glad you're here

I feel I'm finally headed home

Third Day Southern California. 9 May 2018

Last night I fell asleep around 8pm.  Having my body lying down in my sleeping bag atop my sleeping mattress provided me with the comfort that I was seeking.  My tent enclosed me in the vast space of the campground which was nestled in a valley of steep hills.   I closed my eyes and let myself quietly drift into sleep.  I hadn’t eaten dinner and I thought about how I was going to get through the next day.  But for now, sleep would hopefully provide the nourishment I needed.  I awoke around 1:30am and quietly got out of my tent.  I took in the night with the brilliant stars shining far away in the darkened sky.   I stepped away among the twigs and dried leaves on the ground, adding my own night noises to the mix that had put me to sleep.   After peeing, I returned to my tent and climbed into the sleeping bag and let myself once again drift away while trying to ignore the scrapping sounds of some night animal digging nearby.

And then it was morning - 4:30am.  And I knew that I had to start breaking camp and begin hiking before the heat once again tried to stifle my spirit.  I let out the air in my sleeping pad and quickly packed away the gear.  I made a quick breakfast of oatmeal and coffee with a breakfast bar.  I wasn’t hungry but I knew I had to eat. I knew that I needed fuel to get me through the day’s hike.  I had decided that I would only do 8 miles to Mount Laguna and then decide if I wanted to spend the night at the lodge or just resupply in the general store and hike a few more miles.   

But of course I had to hike out of Cibbets campground which involved almost a mile of walking uphill on a dirt road to meet the PCT trail. With confidence I quickly found the PCT and began the 8 mile trek to Mount Laguna.   The trail was mostly uphill for this section as the PCT continued to climb into the Mount Laguna Mountains.  I was soon sweating and uncomfortably hot.  There was very little shade among this stretch.  I knew that there was a water source 4 miles away so I was only carrying 2 liters.  I made sure that I was keeping myself hydrated.   But I was hiking alone and a loneliness began to creep in.  I looked out across the wide panorama of mountains rising over hills creating small valleys and canyons.   The chapperallle growing from the dry earth blended into a steady covering of light green dots.  The wind was absent and the heat made the air thick and pale and dry.   I waited in the silence for my breath to still, for my heart to stop racing and my will to forge ahead and rise to the surface of everything I was feeling.   Where were the others? How could I have missed them in the past 2 days?  

I heard someone behind me and then a male hiker approached.   His name was Sasquatch.   He too was hiking alone.  He had a full beard and a wide smile.  It was nice to see a fellow hiker for a brief moment.   And then he went on ahead of me and disappeared around the bend leaving me alone again.

After what seemed like hours of climbing, I checked the Guthook App to see my location and realized that I only had completed 2 miles of the 8 miles to make it to Mount Laguna.   I would have to do better to make it before the afternoon heat.

I came to a clearing which provided a bit of shade.  I decided to break and took off my pack.   And then I felt the urge to be sick and suddenly I was heaving on the side of the trail bringing up the morning’s food and water.   Not good.   

Now I am beginning to wonder if I will even make it to Mount Laguna.   After the 17 or 18 miles from yesterday, 8 should be no problem.  But I knew that I was feeling the effects of heat exhaustion mixed with dehydration.   If I could just get to Mount Laguna, I could take a day off and rest and hopefully recover.  

I hiked on.  And on some more.   I was coming close to the next water source where I met up with 2 new hikers.  They were.also refilling their water bottles.   After they were done, I walked down the embankment to the small stream with the cold runnning water.  I fillled one of my filtering water bladders and dumped the cold wet over my head providing a lovely cold relief.   Then I filled the bag again and filtered the water into my water bottles.  

And then I was on the side of the trail heaving into the brush.   I couldn’t; keep water down.  My mouth was so dry I could barely swallow.  So I began to just rinse my mouth with water and then spit it out to at least keep my mouth moist.  Time to hike on.  Time to get to Mount Laguna and lie down. 

And of course the next section of the trail was all uphill winding through switchbacks.  Again I checked Guthooks to see how far I had to hike to reach Mount Laguna.   4 miles.   But in 2.2 miles I would come to a small dirt road.  I began to think of that landmark as a place I could get off trail in case I couldn’t make it out.   I hiked on with that thought in my mind providing me with the stimulus to keep going.

I sat down numerous times in the next hour.  I put my head in my hands and wondered why I had decided to hike today.  Why I had decided to even attempt to hike this trail.   I was not enjoying this experience.   Hiking for me had always been tough but incrediblly rewarding and filled with rich moments.   For the PCT, I was lonely, hot, incredibly thirsty and uninspired by the landscapes.   I needed something profound to change my experience.   I chose to do this hike.  I wanted to have this experience in my life.   And I wasn’t ready to give up.  

I managed to get to the dirt road.  And then I knew that I could not go on.   I lay in the tall grass under lose branches that swayed overhead.  I was now in a small forest that was filled with pine trees and fallen branches.   And I lay there.  And I breathed.  I let the ants crawl over me.  And I wanted to be away from this place.

I thought about hiking on the 1.7 miles to Mount Laguna.   I did try to rally and get up.  And I should have forced myself.  But instead I called for help because I didn’t trust myself in this situation to be able to make it.   And I so desperately wanted to make it.  I wanted to energe at Mount Laguna and see my fellow hikers and smile and laugh and feel that I belonged on the trail.  

But I called for help and was soon being driven to the Lodge.   I missed 1.7 miles which I would have to go back and make up.  But for now all I wanted was a room to take a shower and be clean and then rest till I felt like I could drink and eat again. 

After I showered and drank some Gatorade in small sips, I did see Ro, Kevin and Huge.  They were preparing to leave after having just resupplied.   They were happy to see me and I felt inspired to hike on.  But not today.  I needed to take a Nero and rest and recover.   

As I lay in the hot room at the lodge (no AC!) I began to reflect on my rookie mistakes on the trail thus far.   I started out too fast and tried to hike too many miles too soon.  I didn’t listen to my body and understand how the constant heat would affect me.  I tried to keep up with a crew that was able to hike faster and further than me.   But through it all, I remained as strong as I could be.   I did breakdown.  I did cry.  But those moments existed because I care so much about this trail and this experience and how it intersects with my life in this time.   I am not weak.  I am not afraid.  But in this situation, I am not sure I am able to hike in these elements.   I awake  each morning dreading the piercing sun and the melting heat.   I want to love this experience.   I am hoping that after a night’s rest off the trail, tomorrow will provide answers.   But for now - I will rest. I will replenish.  I will rethink my strategy.  I will slow down and listen.   I will listen to the honor of the trail, the reverence and respect.  And I will listen to my own voice.  Because this is the voice that brought me here.   And this is the voice that will guide me forward on this adventure wherever it may lead.    /

Second Day Southern California. 8 May 2018

I barely slept last night.  I listened to the sounds of sleeping hikers adjusting on top of noisy sleeping pads mixed with the sounds of small animals snapping twigs and rustling through the brush.  I had kept my food in my food bag and then placed it an odor proof sack so I wasn’t worried about any mice trying to get into my pack.  I must have dozed off a few times and then suddenly it was 4:30am.  I heard a fellow hiker staring to pack up.   I decided to do the same so I could climb out of Hauser Canyon before the sun really started to heat up the still cool air.  Packing wasn’t so easy as I was a bit disorganized last night after the failed tent set up.  But eventually I felt ready to go.  It was about 5:30am.   With goodbyes to hikers still packing, I made my way out of the Canyon.  I had to climb 1200 feet in 3 miles.  It was hard but with frequent rest stops among the switchbacks I was soon at the top.  I had passed of a few hikers along the way.  I then made my way down to Lake Morena where I planned on having a breakfast burrito at a store just up the road.   There I ran into some of the hikers who had left before me - RO, Kevin, Huge.   It was great to see them and share our experiences of the hike so far.  

After breakfast, I headed into Lake Morena to get more water, use the facilities and repack my backpack.  The mesh suspension on the back panel had come loose due to the heavy water carry and I needed to tighten some of the straps.  That all took some time.  When I started to hike out of Lake Morena is was already 9:30.  I had planned on hiking only 15 miles today and had already done 5.  So 10 more to go. 

I immediately started using my trekking sun umbrella.  I really disliked hiking with it but I had no choice with the blaring sun and heat.   The umbrella at least provided some shade overhead.  But hiking with it connected to my backpack was not ideal and certainly not something I was enjoying.   I hiked alone all morning working my way through the brush and sandy path.   I saw the occasional lizard running along side me for a brief moment before scrambling away.   I hadn’t seen any rattlesnakes yet.  But I heard stories of other hikers encountering them already so I was definitely on the lookout.    

I was feeling good but sore from yesterday and in both feet, my second toe was sore.  I think my shoes are probably a 1/2 size too small and when I hike downhill, that second toe is pressing agaisnt the toe box.   Both nails are now darkened so I will have to order new shoes from REI soon.   

I stopped at Boulder Oaks Campground to get more water.  There I ran into Kevin, Ro and Huge.   It was nice to see them again.  We made a plan to hike to Kitchen Spring and stop for a swim and then hike further to Cibbets Campground which had potable water and camp sites.   After Ro and Kevin moved on, I decided to stay and rest. I took off my shoes and socks to let my feet air out and dry.   My toe nails were not looking good.  So I put some lukotape over the one that seemed to be a bit swollen as well.  I drank a lot of water at the site to camel up and then headed out.   

This part of the trail hugged a ridge line so the views were fantastic.  However, I was so hot and sweaty that I just wanted to find some actual shade.   Again my mouth was dry and I just couldn’t seem to get enough water.   Also, my appetite was completely gone.   I had the breakfast burrito and then a bite of a power bar but nothing else.  I just wasn’t hungry.    

After a few more hours of hiking, I finally came to the road for Kitchen Creek.  It was a .5 mile walk downhill.   So I made my way to the creek and spring.  I saw the water running from the spring but the creek was pretty dry.  But no one was there.  I thought that maybe Ro and the others had already left so I decided not to stay but to push on to Cibbets.   

Around 5pm, I finally arrived at the dirt road leading to the Cibbets Campground.  I had been hiking about 10 hours.  And I wasn’t hungry and the water wasn’t making me feel any better.   By the time I got it the campground, I was completely exhausted.  It was a 17 mile day.  Ro and the others weren’t there.  But I did recognize Nurse from day 1 and another hiker I had passed on the trail.  I was told by the camp manager to set up anywhere and that the water was drinkable.   But instead I just laid down on the picnic table and couldn’t move.  My stomach was feeling awful.  My mouth was dry and I was not hungry.   Eventually I made my way to a camp site to start setting up as the sun would be setting soon.   But then I was suddenly sick and had to bring up the electrolytes I had put into my water.   I used some water to rinse out my mouth and then continued to set up my tent using large rocks to hold the tent stakes down.  I got myself ready for bed.  I just couldn’t eat anything.  I thought that after a night’s sleep I would feel better in the morning.  I pushed too hard too fast.   I didn’t understand this climate and what the heat can do to the body.    The trail was beating me.   And for today, I could only accept that defeat and then hope that tomorrow I would learn from today’s mistakes.   But I have to admit that I was not enjoying myself.   Hiking alone all day was not fun.  At least not for me.  And now camping alone is not fun.   At least not for me.   Things could change.  But tomorrow had to be better.   But for tonight, I rest in my tent, in my sleeping bag.  Grateful that I made it this far.    

First Day Southern California. 7 May 2018

I awoke at 4:50am at Scout and Fordo’s backyard.  I immediately got up and started packing up my gear as we had to be ready for breakfast by 5:30am and departure for the Souther Terminus at 6:00am. I had filled my water bottles the night before and would be starting the hike with 6.5 liters - 13 pounds of water.  This is the most water I have ever carried.  And it was heavy.

The hikers and I all sat around the table eating the prepared breakfast our eyes blazing with the anticipation of finally seeing the monument that we had seen only in images and videos.  A group of trail angels stopped by to ferry us all to Campo in various cars.  I was feeling relatively calm but suddenly overcome with bursts of nervous anxiety.  The driver of our car had done the PCT in 2006.  I asked him a lot of questions along the way and was somewhat comforted by our exchange.

And then we arrived.  And then I was walking up the hill toward the monument.  And then there it was, white square wooden pillars of various heights firm in the ground, stoic and representing thousands of dreams of hikers from the past and hikers yet to come.  But today it was me.  Today I was that hiker. We took group photos and then individual shots.  Everyone seemed to want to linger and make sure they were really ready to start.  The air was still relatively cool but the sun was beginning to shine and I could already feel the heat starting to rise.

And then I just started.  But before I began at the first PCT sign that signified the start of the trail.  I went up to the terminus one last time and ran my hand along it’s rough edges.

Today was very hard.  I started off strong and managed to get through the first 5 miles in 1.5 hours.  But it wasn’t that hot yet and I was running on adrenaline.  I did however manage to lightly pull my right calf muscles within the first 2 miles.  It hurt with each step but I felt that I could keep going so I just continued on.

I hiked alone most of the day, leap frogging over some of the same hikers as we each chose separate moments to rest in what shade was available.  The views were astounding and the occasional breeze was bliss.  I was feeling very good and confident 8 miles in.  But then the heat started to rise and the air became still. I realized I was feeling dehydrated.  I was drinking all along the way but not having hiked in this heat and climate before  - added to the number of miles I planned to do the first day - I began to feel depleted.  My calf muscles began to seize. I wondered if I was having complications due to early heat exhaustion.  The trail was very sandy in spots and then became more like baked dirt - hard and solid.  There were some rocks but for the most part it was relatively well graded.

Toward the middle of the day, I stood atop a cliff face and looked out in the waiting canyon below - Hauser Canyon with the Hauser Creek completely dry.  I had the PCT Water Report with me so I knew where I could get water along the path.

At mile 15 I met up with a group of hikers and we all decided to dry camp at mile 15 before completing the last 4.3 miles to Lake Morena.  Those miles involved a gradual 1200 foot climb out of Hauser Canyon.  I honestly don’t know if I could have done it today and I was relieved that there were other hikers to spend the first night.

So now I am at one for the camp sites near Hauser Creek.  And I will soon have dinner.  And the heat of the day is diminishing.  And I am feeling better.  And I am looking forward to tomorrow.  The loose soil wouldn’t hold my tent stakes and I didn’t want to go searching for rocks to hold the guy lines in place so I am just going to cowboy camp tonight and sleep under the large branches of a nearby tree with the stars peeking through high overhead.  

The trail is harder than I thought.  It’s due to the heat and harsh blazing light from the sun.  I can’t seem to get enough water to quench my thirst.  It has me worried.  But I will see what the PCT will bring me tomorrow.  I plan on getting up at 5am to start hiking before the heat.  The air is turning cooler so I am going to get into my sleeping bag and close my eyes and let the cool night air surround me with comfort.