Trail namedropping This post is mostly a note to self, though I figured I'd share it in case anyone's interested ...
Did a little bit of websearching today to see how 2007's crop of PCT hikers is coming along. The snowpack was horribly low, so it was probably a brutal desert year ... some July 4 journal entries were already being posted from South Lake Tahoe rather than Independence (about 250-300 trail miles difference), and even the Tahoe hikers didn't seem like the front of the pack.
Be that as it may, I got diverted into a websearch on my own trail name. You know how that goes. :) And I found myself name-dropped a few times in last year's write-ups ...
* I caught up to Mama and Chia at Deep Creek Hot Springs (ref.: my THGTTPTC entry), and once again the day before leaving for my BayCon break. After hanging out at the Silverwood picnic area together, I stayed behind a little to eat a solid meal, wash my socks, and write in my journal. I night-hiked up the ridge to catch up with them -- over the course of my trip, I got to be scary good at stumbling across fellow hikers in the middle of the night. The next day we ended up at Interstate 15 together, where I bid them a good hike (and never saw them again, due to plenty of fun giardia delays on my part). And lest you wonder how two vegetarians could end up at a McDonald's, here's one mystery solved.
* From Girl Scout's Big Bear City name-drop, I learned that one of my fellow hikers got some trail magic by stumbling across a movie shoot.
* Doug never mentioned the poop during our day of hiking camaraderie over Forrester Pass. I guess I can't blame him.
* And, technically, I didn't get name-dropped in this one -- but I also discovered that even if I hadn't come home to surprise Kady for July 4, I still would have had a hell of a tale to tell. It would have been cool to take part in that -- I'm just going to have to get out on the trail again sometime so I can join in on a similarly awesome story. :)
* I need to buy Still Walking. Considering that it's all footage from 2006, I might even be in it.
AMAQ: (Talkin' bout) Death on the Fourth of July* Here in America, today was Independence Day. Tonight's the night with the boom and the flash and the smoke and the wtf music. I went to an early July 4 party over the weekend at childe_dirk's, and I got my US RDA of fireworks then; as such, I'm skipping tonight's festivities in favor of getting home from work and resting.
But while I'm at it, I can offer some reading material for those who (like me) aren't doing anything special for the night -- a long overdue story! That's right -- the average reader might think that I forgot about my aging meme in which I promised to write things based on reader input, but I'm finally getting off my butt and doing something about it!
... "Yay!" I hear you shout. "Ambitious Cat stories!" And, indeed, there is shiny new TTU content so close as to be almost tasteable! But at this point, careful readers of my journal might now be remembering my previous head fake, and wondering whether all this lead-in has a similar intent.
Dammit, careful readers! You are too clever for me. But if you'll stop gloating for a few seconds, I'll give you the never before revealed story of last summer's Dramatic Brush With Death --
-- No, this doesn't count. I merely promised to tell the story. That's not at all the same thing as revealing it. Would you shut up for a moment, clever readers? Because here we go ... with
Ask Me A Question: The Late But Epic Edition!
> "Have you ever felt the terror of death grip you?"
Contrary to popular belief, staring your imminent death in the face is a very grounding experience.
The popular notion of "your life flashing before your eyes"? Total bunk. I'll grant its utility as a literary device, sure -- but outside of the world of fiction, nobody's brain uses impending doom as an excuse for autobiography. The brain's response to imminent danger is to actually try to solve the problem. As unromantic as it is, people's real final thoughts are things like "I'll be safe from that bear up this tree." Or "I hope pulling back on this stick works like it does in the movies." Or "Where's the air? Which direction do I swim to reach the surface?"
In my case, it was "If I find a way to brace myself properly, I might not get thrown out until the truck crashes."
Then a jolt, a shudder, an uproar of dust as the passenger-side wheels drifted off the road. And a mental footnote: "I'm glad I've been taking pictures; it might help the investigators figure out who the guy in the back was."
The things that seem awesome at 2 AM The scene: Sunday morning, 4-1-2007. Early sunlight shines on an ungainly pile of blankets in a second-story bedroom. The sounds: Traffic noises, and the moaning of someone trying to block them out with a pillow over the ears. The cat: Steering well clear of the tipped bottle at the foot of the bed. A patch of dark-stained carpet reeks of wine cooler. The conversation:
4-1-07: My second tattoo! It seemed like a good idea at the time.
The topographic map of my elbow. Note Bonespur Peak at left; Surgery Way atop the scar; and the llama farm.
Bax: Get off my arm. Kady: I'm not on your arm. Bax: Yes you are. It hurts. Kady: So does my head, sweetie. So please shut up. Bax: I'm telling you, you're ... oh, never mind. Kady: (mutters) I knew I should have drank more water. Bax: What time is it? Kady: Your watch is on the bedside table. Bax: *gropes for it* Kady: What's that on your arm? Bax: What's what on my arm? Kady: Oh, shit. Bax: What? Kady: You didn't. Bax: Oh, shit. Kady: Where did you even find a tattoo parlor? Bax: I don't know! Rob drove me home. Kady: ... Bax: I distinctly remember us laughing about this idea last night. I don't remember anything about actually doing it. Kady: *giggles* Bax: What? Kady: You know, it is still pretty funny. Bax: ... I sure hope so. Kady: (still laughing) At least you'll get a good LJ post out of this.
And at least I'm never going to get lost if I go hiking on my elbow. ;-p
Bunnies, cats, and blended hikers While I've been spending most of the last few weeks updating the TTU Wiki, I've occasionally taken side trips out to the amazing land of Internets for my amusement and edification:
Never let it be said that webcomics can't teach you important American history. I'm just young enough that I had never heard of the incident in question until XKCD pointed it out. (I grew up in the Reagan years.)
For that matter, never let it be said that sci-fi can't teach you world history. I stumbled across a page of Babylon 5 cultural trivia while looking up the origin of the phrase "a voice in the wilderness." Star Trek fans should find the story behind security chief Michael Garibaldi's name to be especially hilarious.
I don't remember where I picked up the link to this introduction to Mrs. Miller; probably my friends list. But elsewhere on LJ, I found a way to sum up that link in less than 10 words: (viacat_macros)
If you have no idea what I'm talking about with this "yo-yo" thing, here's a good summary. If you're in the mood for a much longer, more metaphysical and more dramatic story, Backpacker magazine's pretentiously titled article has a fascinating glimpse into the friends Scott made and lost along the way, and his getting shot in the face in 1996.
Anyway, Scott's accomplishment is especially noteworthy to me because I actually met the man while attempting my own PCT hike.
I ran into Scott and Joe Kisner, who at the time were hiking together in an attempt to do a joint yo-yo, on June 1. Or perhaps I should say they ran into me. We were about 370 miles into the trail, in the San Gabriel mountains outside Los Angeles. Scott and Joe (whose name I just spent two hours googling, and finally confirmed it here; how quickly the also-rans are forgotten!) blew past me in the parking lot at the base of Mt. Baden-Powell, stopping long enough to exchange some pleasantries and for me to recognize Scott from the kickoff party. I wished them luck and eventually limped after them. (This was in the period where early symptoms of giardia were making me feel like utter crap.)
Less than 24 hours later, I subsequently learned, Joe gave up on the trail. There was a road detour just west of B-P to preserve red-legged frog habitat; the official detour took an unfamiliar side trail from the road back to the PCT. Apparently Scott and Joe got separated during that side-trail walk -- for distance hikers, it's very common to walk at your own pace and then sync up occasionally throughout the day. Scott hit the PCT and made the turn. From what I heard, Joe hit the intersection and kept walking, ultimately getting lost some 10 miles north of the trail. Unable to navigate back to the PCT, he cross-country hiked down to a road and caught a ride in to civilization. If he had returned to the trail where he left it, he would be a day or two behind the yo-yo's unforgiving schedule and unable to catch up with Scott. So he quit.
That encounter really drove home for me how even a tiny slip can doom a yo-yo attempt. (Scott himself failed at seven of them before he finally made headlines in 2004.) So it's great news to hear that Scott managed to finish again this year. I walked 916 miles, and that's no small thing, but my accomplishment absolutely pales besides his.
If you're the podcasting sort, there's interviews with him and many other trail characters over at trailcast.org. Otherwise, forgive my rambling.
A momentary lapse of reason: Special hiking edition One thing I'm remembering about face-to-face customer service jobs -- after not having worked one for a decade -- is the learning experiences that come from interacting with hundreds of strangers at a stretch.
They broaden you, expose you to passions and outlooks and ways of thinking that you wouldn't see if you weren't being paid to smile and talk with folks while separating them from their money. I've got a few anecdotes perhaps worth relating, but one from Sunday morning stands out just now.
That's because sometimes these interactions can reach far beyond expanding your view of humanity, and offer you an illuminating view of yourself.
Case in point --
* * *
A man came to my register to buy some groceries, and was chatting with the female behind him in line (they seemed to know each other, but I think they ran across each other in the store and started chatting while shopping). I don't recall at all the conversation that preceded it, but I believe he was trying to illustrate some broader point when he turned to me and asked: "So what about you? What do you do when you're not stuck here behind a register?"
This caught me completely off guard, so I answered the only way I could think to: Completely honestly and spontaneously.
"I write," I blurted out, part of my brain cringing at the cliché of it all ... news flash: unambitious mook working lowly retail job harbors aspirations of literary greatness in off hours! ... and so tried to extend my answer somehow. Of course, most of my otherpersonalpursuits tend to soundbite in ways that derail conversations completely, so this left me groping for something else "safe" to share. So I fell into the deeply unfortunate but hopefully understandable trap of conflating life with work: "And, um, sometimes I fill in at the newspaper I used to work at."
"Why'd you leave the newspaper?" he asked.
And the Duh Hammer nailed me squarely between the eyes.
"For my Pacific Crest Trail hiking trip."
"You walked the Pacific Crest Trail?!?" he asked incredulously.
"Well, about a thousand miles of it," I said.
We ended up having an animated and terribly worthwhile three-minute talk on hiking -- an eternity in customer service time. But what stuck with me was that Duh Hammer moment.
Here was this gigantic multi-month odyssey that I only, oh, upended my entire life for, that I've only been wanting to do since my college days, that took me halfway across one of America's largest states. A journey that took me to the continental U.S.' highest point and spanned distances some people can't even imagine covering without an airplane. A trip that, even in "failure" to accomplish my stated goal, still ranks as an accomplishment few would attempt to rival.
And now that I'm stuck back in a daily routine, it seems so far removed from my life that a mere two months after my trail departure it doesn't even cross my mind on a list of interests without a little helpful prodding.
I really don't know what this says about me (would the charitable explanation be that my life is so full of casual greatness that I can't see a thousand-mile walk as a big enough deal to alter my self-image?), but in any event, I'm pretty sure I'm embarrassed about it.
* * *
Speaking of the hike, I received two relevant questions from my Ask Me A Question poll. (No, I haven't forgotten AMAQ!) I was planning at some point to do a AMAQ: Baxwalk Edition, so this seems as good a time as any to revisit the meme.
First, a reader asks, "How was your trip? Do you plan on resuming it anytime soon?"
I never bothered to publically and officially say so until now, but my last day of actual hiking was August 1. From April 27 to August 1 -- 97 days, of which 58 were spent wholly or partially on the trail -- I covered 916 miles of the PCT. 877 of those were consecutive, from the Mexican border to Lake Edison; the remainder was the leg near our house that kadyg and I walked during my July stall-out.
I cut my trip short due to medical issues, having developed patellar tendonitis in the high Sierra. (Insert irony here.) I probably could have returned after a few weeks of healing and at least limped over the 1,000-mile mark, but my financial reserves just ran too low while my knees were recovering, and I had to give myself some closure so that I could look for a job and start pulling in some income again. As far as the injury, my knees just refused to heal even slightly for about three weeks -- and then my physical therapist, getting as frustrated as I was, prescribed a regimen of intense stretching, which did the trick, and the pain and swelling cleared up within 7 relief-filled days.
I enjoyed it. I loved the experiences, I love the stories, and even though I didn't finish the PCT or even the JMT, I did get through THE DESERT and climb Mount Whitney, both of which are major accomplishments. The scenery was incredible, the camaraderie was intense, the solitude (when I had it and had the time to sit back and appreciate it) was affirming, and you'd better believe I am not done with this trail by a long shot.
This season's hike is over. I've made commitments that will keep me from anything so ambitious for a few years -- most notably, I'm following through on my agreement with Kady that once the season's hike was over, our next goal was to put her through cooking school -- but we've both agreed that I really ought to get back out in the backcountry in about 5 or 10 years for Baxwalk-PCT Take 2.
I haven't decided whether my next attempt will pick up where I left off, or whether I want to start from the border again and re-walk those 900+ miles on my way to doing the whole thing in one season. I probably won't decide that until the next hike rolls around.
Another reader asks, "Have you ever felt the terror of death grip you?"
The answer is, yes, I have.
The reason I mention this here is that the full explanation is one of my wildest trail stories, at which I have so far merely hinted.
It deserves a special post of its own, so I'm going to keep you all in suspense for a day or two. After some sleep, I can clean out my links file and then devote some writing time to it.
Post-hike #1: Back to the working world One of my biggest initial concerns when I was planning for my Pacific Crest Trail hike had nothing to do with the walking. It was purely a logistical issue: Assuming a six-month hike, I would have to quit my job rather than take a leave of absence. I'd be burning through savings while out on the trail. So what was I going to do to earn money when I got home?
I finally came to the only sensible conclusion: My life after the trip would sort itself out. If the PCT was important enough for me to set aside a summer for it, it was also important enough for a job search when I returned.
I'm glad I made that decision, because my career path has, in fact, been sorting itself out.
Knee update, trip update, and some disappointment When I returned home last week, with a painful knee forcing me from the trail, I slunk away from my hike with frustration and a little fear. My previous three-week layover at home had been quite enough delay; I wanted to get back into the rhythm of the trail and keep eating up the miles, and the only thing standing in my way was an aggravating injury of unknown severity.
I fretted and killed time until Monday, when I could see a physical therapist for a full diagnosis. The scariest thing about waiting was not knowing how bad it was. The pain wasn't getting worse, but it wasn't going away with rest -- which simply indicates a problem requiring intervention; it could have meant anything from a strain/sprain to a developing chronic problem to a hike-ending injury such as a hairline fracture.
The preliminary diagnosis, when I met with the doc on Friday to set up a speedy appointment, was patellar tendonitis. (The patella is your kneecap; its tendons, at the front of the knee, are a pretty common sports strain.) This came as some surprise to me, because my complaint was severe pain in one of the muscles/ligaments on the outside back of my left knee, but she assured me that PT pain could refer out there.
On Monday, she hammered home the diagnosis by digging in to my knee to massage the tendons, to the tune of pain so severe I occasionally had to try to remember to breathe. Tendonitis causes muscle swelling, and the body's response to it is to try to lay down scar tissue over the area; the tissue prevents full function, and the purpose of the massage was to start breaking up the scar tissue. Something sure felt like it was breaking in there, that's for sure, so I'm glad it was in the service of a higher cause.
As a coda, I asked her to check out the other knee too -- and it turns out the tendonitis was just as bad there; it just wasn't referring out to cause the acute muscle pain that it was in my left leg. More massaging ensued.
The bottom line, I was told, is that I should expect to spend anywhere from 1 to 3 weeks off the trail, with another visit or two to supplement home treatment. And, just like that, away melted the fear and frustration, to be replaced by resignation and disappointment.
I guess it didn't really hit home until I got a professional evaluation, but on top of everything else that's happened on the trip, the knee woes are the last nail in the coffin of my thru-hike. This isn't to say I won't return to the trail once I'm cleared to hike again -- stopping now would feel like a waste -- but at this point I have no option but to give up on the idea of finishing the whole trail this year.
New Tlands PCT content! I've been avoiding posting about my hiking since I got back ... the bottom line is that trying to summarize everything that's happened would just remind me again of the fact I'm off the trail and sitting at home. Adding to that frustration is the uncertainty of the nebulous knee injury -- it'll be later today before I get a full diagnosis on it (the preliminary suspicion was patellar tendonitis) or any idea how long this is going to lay me over.
Put together, those have made it tough for me to face my hike dead-on. And there are always so many distractions sitting back here in a comfortable house with a good Internet connection ...
The good news, at least, is that I've tried to channel some of that spare time into productivity. And I'm happy to report the result: www.tomorrowlands.org/pct, which for my entire trip thus far has just been a redirect page bouncing folks to my journal, is now an actual hub for all my hiking data. Convenient links to my journal, photos, and individual posts and groups of posts of note are all there. If you've been bookmarking my journal for updates on my trip, www.tomorrowlands.org/pct now makes a more optimal starting point -- you're one click away from the newest journal entries, but new content will appear there, too, and everything will be more organized and prettier.
On top of that, I've added a new, never-before-seen feature! Redtail's Rules of Thru-hiking collects the nuggets of wisdom I've picked up over the course of the trip. I've even added annotations giving the backstory behind 'em all.
I hope that can tide everyone over until I can face up to my chronicling responsibilities. Fortunately, that should get a little easier today, once I see the physical therapist and get the (hopefully good) word on the knee woes.
“Yay! I finally have cell reception. And I am currently sitting on the shore of Lake Edison, which is a short detour from Mile 877 of the PCT. Most people who come to Lake Edison do so because they want to walk, or catch the ferry, over to Vermillion Valley Resort for a resupply stop. I am here because I need to get off the trail yet again. :-(
What happened is that, as described in some of my previous posts, my knee went out over going up and down some of the High Sierra passes. I laid over at Muir Trail Ranch for two days, resting it, and I thought that it was good enough to walk out on. About five miles of trail disabused me of that notion. Of course, by the time I was up and over Selden Pass, it was easier to keep going forward than it was to stop, turn around, backtrack, and lose all that progress.
So I ended up hiking out the rest of the full day I had planned, on an increasingly painful knee. I ended up night-hiking until 10:30 or 11:00 to get down here close enough to Lake Edison so that I could be sure I would wake up and be here in time for the morning ferry. It runs twice a day and cuts 4 miles off my trip, and I don't feel like walking any 4 miles I don't have to.
Anyway, so, since I am going to have to pull off and rest and figure out what's wrong with the knee, I will have much better Internet access soon -- and I will wrap up a post in a format that people don't have to stop and listen to it. Talk to y'all soon.”
The Men That Don't Fit In I'm reading Truman Capote's In Cold Blood while laid up at the ranch. Never having read Capote before, I'm getting an introduction to his writing style (which I have to admit I'm finding disjointed, a frustration) as well as to his story. In Cold Blood is non-fiction, an account of a multiple murder in Kansas in the 1950s. It's somewhat slow reading (which isn't helped by his writing style), and crime dramas aren't really in keeping with the spirit of the trail, but I guess at least it's giving me something to do.
From a thru-hiker perspective, there was one extremely interesting passage in the middle, though. One of the perpetrators, in a letter to a woman he's walking away from a relationship with, writes the following poem (which in the book is identified as being a quote of someone else's work, but is unattributed):
There's a race of men that don't fit in, A race that can't stay still; So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the world at will. They range the field and they rove the flood, And they climb the mountain's crest; Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood, And they don't know how to rest. If they just went straight they might go far; They are strong and brave and true; But they're always tired of the things that are, And they want the strange and new.
"Sweet!" I thought when I read that. "I've got to go source that on the Internet."
It turns out that it's from "The Spell of the Yukon," by Robert W. Service. And I found the entire poem out on the Web.
Having read it, I can sure see why the quote stopped where it did.
Muir Trail Ranch: A three-paragraph glimpse This quiet getaway location, with little noise except the rustle of trees in the wind and the tromping of horses in their corral, is nestled right at the edge of national park land, along the south fork San Joaquin river. Its many rustic buildings -- largely wood cabins -- have running water and hydroelectric power, but no telephone; thanks to the magic of satellite Internet, this is the second resupply place I've visited that has gotten online before getting all of the basic services that Western civilization takes for granted. (Kennedy Meadows, with phone/net but no electricity, still takes the cake, though.)
For hikers, they also lack one other essential feature of civilization we take for granted: Restrooms. (The ranch does have them available for employees and guests, but due to concerns about septic system capacity, they request that hikers "hold it" until they leave the ranch and return to the woods.) And there just plain aren't any showers -- which normally isn't too much of an issue, since they are located a stone's throw from some natural hot springs that guests (and hikers) are free to use.
Unfortunately, the hot springs are across the river. When I -- and a half-dozen John Muir Trail hikers -- tried to reach them last night, the thigh-deep flow was strong enough that nobody felt safe trying to get across to them.
* * *
In other news, my knee healed up some overnight and feels normal again -- but it still twinges when walking downhill. This is a matter of some concern, because if walking still hurts after a night of rest, then inevitably walking on it (and there's still plenty of downhill left to go) will make it hurt more, and at some point it will cross the line from strain to injury. If it hasn't already.
I want nothing more than to just keep going and finish the damn JMT already. I'm less than 100 miles shy of that landmark, and a similarly small distance from 1,000 PCT miles. But I can't afford to push on at the expense of injury. So I'm going to wait here another day, feast off of the hiker boxes (last night's meal: couscous in tomato basil soup, mopped up with rye crackers), finish Truman Capote's In Cold Blood (which another hiker abandoned in the hiker boxes as well), and cross my fingers that the knee isn't still bothering me tomorrow. If so ... I'll need a longer rest in a real bed, and maybe a doctor's visit. Which probably means going home again.
If anyone lives within reasonable distance of Fresno who might be willing to drive up tomorrow and meet me at Florence Lake, please respond to this post. I don't know if I'll be hiking on tomorrow or limping down to the lake to bail out, but a ride (and maybe crash space) would make a trail halt much more pleasant.
*heartbeat* Well, I'm back on the trail -- four days into the trip. It was such a whirlwind I didn't get to post before I left. I owe y'all the story ... later.
Some final data sifting and a nice heart-to-heart talk with roaminrob finally convinced me to head back to the Sierra where I left off. It was a good decision. I was worried about the passes, but the snow has all melted off. The mosquitoes are frustrating but hardly the worst I've seen. The hiking has been demanding, but I've been making 20-mile days. I'm now past the worst of it, at Muir Trail Ranch (just past the northern border of Kings Canyon National Park) ... and nursing a knee that gave out after 10,000 feet of descent in 48 hours. Hopefully another night of rest will clear it up and I can keep hiking -- about 5 days to Yosemite from here and the end of the John Muir Trail (a great landmark and a wonderful achievement in case I can't finish the PCT).
Also: What's speckled brown, has beady little eyes, and charges at you out of the bushes when you're hiking down the trail? Answer to come when I reach a place with cheaper (non-satellite) Internet.
Back from the trail kadyg and I have returned from our Donner Pass to Sierra City leg of the PCT (the California guidebook's Section L, for those keeping track at home). I'd been half-fearing getting back on the trail, but even though at times we hit the mosquitos/snow/heat trifecta, it was a pretty pleasant hike, and I found out that the two weeks at home haven't softened me nearly as much as I had expected.
Full write-up (and more photos!) later. For now, just the highlights: Sleeping at the Peter Grubb hut; running for my life from mosquitoes the next morning; views from below of two mountains we've both previously climbed; slogging through snow patches on an 80-degree day; climbing Mount Lacey (as a 50-yard detour from the trail); kadyg getting a ride back to our car from Jackson Meadows Reservoir after developing knee problems; kadyg missing a hot, rocky descent during the last 11 miles, but using the time to play trail angel for some of the dozen thru-hikers in or near Sierra City; and this:
A Sierra sunset: Kady and I at camp, Day 83. Taken atop the north ridge of some unnamed peak about 6 trail miles shy of Jackson Meadow Reservoir.
Also, happy birthday to me.
Current Location:home Current Mood: 29 Current Music: "Fable of a Chosen One," David Nelson Band Tags:baxwalk pct, birthday
Where do we go from here? My immediate plans for the hike are pretty clear: Starting Monday, I'm walking the 40 miles from Truckee to Sierra City -- the PCT stretch nearest our house -- with kadyg. After that, though, I still haven't decided where my next trail destination should be.
The original dilemma was that returning to the trail in the same place as I left would involve passes and river crossings that I would prefer to tackle in the company of fellow thru-hikers -- but, by the time I was able to return, they would have all moved on further north. This, broadly, remains true ... but doesn't address the underlying question, which is: So where should I go in order to keep up the momentum of my PCT hike?
With all that having been said, I'd appreciate some feedback -- especially if you've got other factors that I haven't considered to point out. I'm offering the poll as a shortcut, but what I'd really like is comments with more detailed suggestions (or even questions; the point is to help me sharpen my decision, and that can help too). If you don't have a Livejournal account and it doesn't offer you the option to vote, please just let me know your suggestions in comments.
(I'll obviously be off hiking for the next day or two, but will finish resolving this when Kady and I get home -- I'm not taking off again until I know where I'm taking off to!)
Poll #771540Redtail's next destination
Open to: All, results viewable to: All
Considering the advantages and disadvantages listed above, what part of the PCT should Redtail hike next?
Return to the High Sierra to continue your straight-line hike. 2 (13.3%)
Start walking south from your house and cover the Sierra in reverse. 0 (0.0%)
Start walking north from your house and try to rejoin the main hiker pack. 2 (13.3%)
Head to the Oregon border and walk OR/WA northbound. 4 (26.7%)
Head to the Washington border and walk WA northbound. 0 (0.0%)
Head to the Canadian border and "bookend" the trail (walk toward the middle from both ways). 5 (33.3%)
Other (explain in comments). 2 (13.3%)
I am able to provide logistical support (companionship, overnight stay, a ride to the trail, etc) if you take my suggestion [please elaborate in comments or otherwise contact me about this]:
Hiking the High Sierra The High Sierra wasted very little time in convincing me that I had really left the desert behind.
I left Kennedy Meadows on Day 63 of my hike -- the morning of June 28 -- along with a short, laid-back fellow named Kuhrt (who had been kind enough to wait for me during my extra day of trying to deal with the foot swelling). At 10 AM, we were hiking through the morning heat in Kennedy Meadows' broad fields of sagebrush and other chaparral scrub, and watching a rattlesnake slither across the road in front of us. Four hours and 2,000 feet of climbing later, we were being pelted with hail in a pine forest, listening to thunderstorms roll across the western sky and halting for an early dinner rather than braving the lightning risk of the lush, grassy alpine meadows ahead of us.
As an addendum, I've uploaded two new photo galleries with images and further trail details from this section. Go check out Mount Whitney for my July 1 side trip, and Miles 767-790 for the trip over Forrester Pass and beyond. There's also a new film in the Movies gallery, although I make no promises about its effects on your sanity. ;-)
Thru-Hiker's Guide to the PCT - Multimedia extravaganza! You all knew it had to happen sooner or later: A THGTTPCT entry has made the leap from phone post to full-blown video! Click the link, then click the "video" icon to watch everyone's favorite droll British PCT narrator try to make some sense out of the lengthy desert hike across Antelope Valley.
[Low-resolution; MOV format; 1:03; 13MB]
Brought to you courtesy of a digital camera that records video clips; iMovie; and about eight hours and six different pieces of freeware to convert everything into a format that iMovie would let me use. :-p
Heartbeat I've been spending an exceptionally lazy week (-and-a-half) at home, falling back in the rhythm of off-trail life, playing a few video games, catching up on my reading, and spending time with my lovely wife. It's really destroying any semblance of a schedule I might have had for my thru-hike, but after all of the adventuring that's happened, this has been a very welcome break from the trail.
I've been working all day on my High Sierra wrap-up post, and I was going to try to get it online tonight -- but kadyg was going through our snailmail spam, and while perusing a catalog, the quip "I wonder if Fingerhut sells ass chaps?" broke my brain.
So tomorrow.
Speaking of tomorrows, it looks as though Kady has a three-day "weekend" from this coming Monday (July 17) to Wednesday (the 19th). We've been wanting to hike the Donner Pass to Sierra City PCT segment near our home together, and it looks as though this is the best chance we're going to get, so I'm going to tentatively pencil that in. If I'm really diligent, I can get a little hiking done this weekend before our joint trip, but realistically, Monday looks as though it'll be my return to the trail (after which I'll turn around and head back to the PCT for another few months, circumstances willing).
I'm still trying to figure out where to go after the joint trip -- back to the Sierra, start from here, or head to points northward. I'll fully explain, and solicit advice, in a post after the High Sierra wrap-up.
Current Location:Grass Valley, Calif. Current Mood: rejuvenated Current Music: Eric Clapton, "San Francisco Bay Blues" Tags:baxwalk pct
Home for the holidays So ... it's been a heck of an exciting week. I left Kennedy Meadows, hiked up into the high Sierra (where I promptly got hailed on -- what a welcome change!), gained about 4-6,000 feet of elevation and stayed above 9K for good, and have been hiking through cool temperatures, water everywhere, and hordes of mosquitoes.
On July 1, I took a side trip to climb the highest mountain in the contiguous 48 states -- Mount Whitney, at 14,495 feet. The next day, I hit the highest point of the Pacific Crest Trail -- snowy Forrester Pass, at 13,000+ feet. Both were incredible views, incredible landmarks, and utterly glorious hiking. The trip could not be more different from the desert that thrashed me for two months. I will write these up fully in the next day or two, hopefully complete with some of the 300-plus pictures I took; the high Sierra is a place where you can't throw a rock without hitting a sublimely awe-inspiring vista.
After burning through 7 days' worth of food in 5 days (and still having to ration it carefully), I approached the side trail over Kearsarge Pass, and hiked out 9 miles to a day-hiker-packed trailhead to catch a ride into tiny Independence, Calif., for a resupply stop.
This is where a story should go about how I spent the Fourth of July in a town called Independence. This is where a story should go about a memorable night of thru-hiker camaraderie and a laid-back zero day full of rodeos, barbeque, parades, and fireworks.
But that's not the story I have to tell. Instead, let me tell you about the surprise that kadyg will remember for the rest of her life.
It's now about 24 hours later. Kady is still adjusting to having me back; I'm still adjusting to returning to a home I haven't seen for over two months. The shock of my appearance has worn off, and we both still think I've made the right decision to lay over at home.
And where to go next, and when? Well, there are definitely going to be a few home zero days. I haven't had much of a chance to coalesce plans beyond that. I don't feel done with my hike, but I'm not sure I'm returning to Independence right away. (More on that in a subsequent post.)
For now, it's just good to be back. And hopefully it will give me more of a chance to get caught up in documenting this whirlwind of a trip, and building up the PCT section of Tomorrowlands to be more than just a link to this journal.
Thank you, roaminrob, for your heroism in pushing your car beyond its limits of endurance; and thank you, jackal pack, for making sure that I could pull the surprise off despite the last-minute hitches.
“"He-llo. I am still in Kennedy Meadows. Gonna be leaving tomorrow morning and I just wanted to catch some people - catch everyone up on the flavor of this little place."
("body too long", claims VoicePost. Feh. To the comments section for Hot Transcription Action!)”
jubilant![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
hot
hung over
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thoughtful
tired
busy
frustrated
discontent
sore
29
2 (13.3%)
indecisive
productive
rejuvenated