Mile 399 - 493 Running for Oasis

Push it to the Limit

The day starts strong, my legs feel ready for the 27 miles I have planned. Much of the trail out of the San Gabriels is downhill with a few uphills. The weather is cold most of the day and I try to keep as little layers on me as possible. Just warm enough not to shiver, but cool enough to not sweat. I rarely stop, stuffing cookies, Poptarts, and trail mix into my face while I move as fast as I can down the trail. My legs are learning new mechanics to move faster, I hope not to my detriment. About 24 miles in my body is exhausted, and my mind no longer works beyond connecting my feet to the trail. I feel strange thoughts enter my mind. Hiking fast takes mental energy, in ensuring form, pace, and foot placement. I had been monitoring some dark clouds all day, which finally manifested in some light rain, soaking the overgrowth that encumbered the last few miles.

I arrive to camp a little after 7pm, nearly 12 hours on trail, which includes water filtering, eating, and whatnot. I find myself soaked, and grumpy. I’m covered in dirt and mud, but I strip to crawl into my bag where I feel myself slip into an exhausted sleep.

Is this love?

I wake, not feeling rested though I’ve had an uninterrupted sleep. I feel I am about to fall asleep in the first 3 miles, that I could close my eyes and let my feet keep moving. Most of my gear is wet, a heavy mist still shrouds the mountains, feels similar to what is happening in my mind. I guzzle nearly 1.5 liters of electrolyte water and feel much better. I had a lot of salty food before bed, I didn’t consider how much liquid I’d actually need upon waking. I go back and forth on whether I can meet my hiking goal of 28 miles to Aguadulce, or if I have to stop short, I make an argument for each side. By 10 am and a few hours of hiking, I feel back up to snuff. Just an hour before I convinced myself to just hitch a ride and cut my hike by 10 miles, now I’m back on track to hit my goal.

Tired, wet, and dirty

I run down the trail with the same enthusiasm as I did when pursuing McDonalds. The day is a little cloudy, and I know this is my chance to move before the week really heats up. 

I make it to Vazquez Rocks, a beautiful park of unique geology, where that familiar exhaustion takes hold. I’m about 3.5 miles out and I feel I’m hitting pure exhaustion.I keep shuffling my feet, reduced to maybe 1.5 miles/hour. 

Something strange has been slowly brewing. Feelings of guilt, shame, loneliness, other emotions I struggle to define. I can’t identify the source. My mind and body exhausted leave no guard rails between the subconscious and conscious. Why do I feel this way? I thought I had worked through these feelings? Self work and healing isn’t a linear process, but this seems deep in my heart.

I drag my sorry body into the grocery store in Aguadulce and order a carne asada burrito, a feeling I haven’t experienced in a while washes over me, endearment. I had fallen in love with this burrito, I felt saved. I finished up with some frozen Oreo bites and a coconut water, then shuffle my way to my final destination, Serenity’s Oasis, just a few hundred meters away. The feelings of sourceless guilt, shame, and loneliness wash away like water off stone. I think it really just was exhaustion terrorizing my mind.

Cam was at the camp when I arrived which I was beyond happy to see. Now is a time for camaraderie and drinks. After a hot shower I feel renewed.

Serenity’s Oasis, a silly place

The next day both Cam and I take a zero. We decide to buy food to cook as we have two grills at our disposal. I make a grand feast of tacos. Enough for brunch and dinner. Cam says it hands down the best food he’s had on trail. I’ll always take praise, even if it is true or not. I can see other hikes salivate at what I had worked on. I have done cooking for groups throughout the years, and have tried to improve my craft, but have never gone “professional”. I still consider going to culinary school and do a stint of my life in a kitchen. I finally get a trail name out of it, “Chef”, which is promptly reinforced by the entirety of the camp. I like it because of the irony that I don’t use a stove on trail. More familiar faces stroll into camp.

Cam heads out the next day. The heat is rising more. We check the forecast and see the temperature rising over the next few days. We also know these few hundred miles are hot and exposed, we have to work to get to the Sierras. A lot of us agree though, we can go slower. We’re on track to get to the Sierras almost too early. Too early as a principle though, the snowpack has been low this year, so perhaps it’s possible to start early. I secretly want to start the Sierras early, as I want to try to get into the Northwest as early as possible, to try to mitigate fire season effects as much as possible. There’s reports of the notorious Norovirus not even a hundred miles up the trail around Hikertown. It’s a real boogeyman and folks begin strategizing how to avoid possible exposure, as it can easily take a hiker off the trail for a week.

I wait at Serenity’s Oasis for Joe and he encourages me to stay the night. After three nights and two full days, it’s time to leave. This is a vortex and I feel myself being sucked in.

My body is still a little sore, but the past few days of being able to cook, take hot showers, and sit in the desert sun have been renewing. I have to leave that evening, even if it’s a 4 mile hike, it’s time to leave this silliness. 

Leona Divide

The next few days the heat settles in. I slept in the bottom of a large valley, where all creatures seemed to occupy, I woke to coyote songs. 

I trudge through the heat the next few days but move smoothly, I quickly adapt to the heat while others begin to adapt their hiking schedule. 

Found Joe!

I’d rather hike in the heat than change my circadian rhythm. The heat pours into the valleys and I decide to move fast, I’m getting a bit tired of the desert. I eventually camp in an abandoned campground, washed out by floods, seems like a pretty common thing around the trail. I’m a bit cautious, if I were a cougar, this is where I’d hang out.