Mile 1018 - 1093 Leaving the Sierras

I’m Sailing Away

I spend the morning catching up on blog writing. I wish to get to more “in the moment” writing, as I keep losing good nuggets that come in the moment. I had ran the numbers in ChatGPT the day before, once again, it tells me to chill out, I don’t need to be hiking 25 miles a day, I’m at a good pace. I struggle to accept that a bit, but it also eases any tension within me about my daily mileage goals, I can enjoy things more.

Cookies offers to take us out on his small sailboat and teach us how to sail. It’s a definitive yes. It’s also a great break from the laziness of the day. We set off from the lake shore into the water. Dina takes the first go and catches plenty of wind to get across Pinecrest Lake. The sun is hot on our skin and we find a place to land and swim. The lake is the warmest I’ve been in so far, nearly 70 degrees I’d say. I do a bit of swimming and quickly feel the fatigue in my upper body, realizing how out of tune it is. I sail the way back, against the wind, having to tack, or zig zag, all the way back to shore. Cookies is a calm instructor. Upon getting back we prepare dinner. Dina and I both agree, playing house for a bit is nice. There’s never not someone volunteering to help cook or do dishes during our stay. It’s strange how many folks are drawn to domestic chores coming off the trail. I enjoy it, but I did have moments on the trail the past few weeks where I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to enter back into society, I wanted to live out there. The actions are simpler yet the world is more dynamic, than that of office at least. I’ll take mosquitoes over all day Zoom calls, everyday.

After dinner and nearly tapping out on sugar from a hefty dessert, Cookies and I go for a bike ride around the community. I feel free on a bike, and though my main jam is hiking, I dearly miss biking. I plan to really get back into it when I’m done, I say to myself. When I’m done…it’s something that has been in my mind lately. Where I want to live, what I want to do, who do I want to be near. They’re not heavy thoughts, in fact, I’m excited by them. I hear ravens converse above me with intricate calls as I lay in the outdoor bed writing, maybe they’ve got opinions on what I do too.

Ebbett’s Peak

Just a big ol pile of rocks

The Trail is Waiting

We make it Kennedy Meadows North, I end up staying after much internal deliberation, but there is still reservation, though I say otherwise. I get up, I pace, I put my pack on, I take it off, sit down, drink a cider, then do process all over again. I made my decision to stay the night, but after paying, I think I knew I wanted to be back on trail. I only have myself to blame for the indecisiveness, which that too seems to be coming up with increased frequency. Too much rest for me, which sounds a little nutty, but there’s this strange pull to be on trail I can’t describe. I think it’s time to go on alone again. I was excited to see some faces I had not seen for a long time, specifically Jason, who I had not seen since Idyllwild. I’m as enthused to see him as I was Dina, I barely know these people yet we shared the beginning together.

The sleep is good, really good, which I do appreciate. I wonder if it is right that I stayed one more night off trail. This “trail guilt”, this pull to be on trail, that I should be hiking and not relaxing, is pervasive. I maybe see it as a reflection of my own personality and how I am attempting to challenge this need to be productive…to challenge that my worth on the trail is tied to active effort I put forth every day. Dina and I move well, the trail is beginning to get easier, no more intense ups and downs, and no mosquitoes. I grab snow melt for water, the stream next to it is from the meadow, and is warm. I prefer clean and cold. We cowboy camp with a fire, right back to your scheduled programming. 

An Ill Wind

I sleep in a little bit and enjoy the sleep. A strange feeling has been creeping in. Though wanting to be back on trail was tearing at me the other day, I don’t want to walk. I wish I could just stay in camp. I just spent three full days of recovery and now I don’t want to be hiking anymore. Is this premature NorCal Blues? Dina is in a similar boat, she’s sick of just walking to get miles in. She has different priorities than I do, I came here to hike, but I’m struggling to figure out why I’m out here. My busted ass shoes don’t help, my gait looks and feels horrible, with every rock making itself known. I lost my spoon again so I start whittling a new one, Dina lets me borrow hers temporarily, which I’m grateful. That means I don’t have to water down my mashed potatoes to the point I can drink them. What this is feeling like is the desert again. The mental space isn’t the same as the desert, I’m not working through the same stuff, but there’s space, which allows curious thoughts to be born. I threw some momentos from Hawaii I’ve held onto the entire trip into the fire. Some things, some ideas, some attachments, gone. I mean, the feelings will likely come up here and there, but it felt symbolic, and appropriate for this next leg of my journey. There was a slight feeling of grief when letting go, but it’s up to me to let go of that sorrow. I’ve been growing uncertain of my next path after the trail. Some shadows of the past linger in the corner of my mind, but I feel a movement coming, moving through them. Northern California is difficult emotionally for some, it’s the halfway point. You get tired of walking. I’m getting tired of walking. I tell myself the juicy part of trail is coming up. But there’s something more. I feel incredibly calm then the next second, restless. A restlessness I can’t put my finger on.

The wind howled all night long bringing in overcast, cool weather. The perfect hiking weather. Vivid dreams are coming back, but nothing jarring. I take a bit longer in bed today, it’s colder today than most of the days in the Sierras. I leave a bit earlier than Dina, she’s sleeping in too. She slept outside and the morning sun shines right into her face, she seems unfazed. She doesn’t like that she slept in, but I feel like we all could use a bit of extra sleep. I get service temporarily along the ridges, nothing too interesting. I check email, pay bills, check the news, tapping into a reality I’ve almost separated myself from, but still cling to by my fingertips. I’m moving well today, so I take less breaks than usual. Dina and I leapfrog each other. She talks about getting a hitch at a trailhead about 15 miles down the trail. She’s tired of walking, it’s very relatable, I am too. I wait for her while I eat my lunch but she never comes. I did pass a legitimate road a few miles back, and I figure she caught a hitch there, but a low worry is stoked inside me. She’s incredibly capable, but it feels better to keep track of the folks you start the day with. I continue on anyway, not enough worry to stop my day. The wind tries to knock me off the ridge in the latter part of the day. Below the ridge are lakes abundant, today feels too cold for a swim. I make it to the trailhead, have a quick dinner of corn nuts, rice, and tuna, and walk to see if I can find service. I want to be sure Dina made it somewhere. No luck. I remember we both have a Garmin, a satellite device, and I can message her that way. I send a message as I head away from Carson Pass. She responds, and we realize she never had my number, but I had hers. She hitched like I thought, and I walk peacefully the remainder of the day. I walk through some meadows in the twilight looking at the mountain range to the south of me. A feeling of gratitude comes over me, I recognize the privilege I have to see beauty big and small every day. I think about my minor indigestion.

Tahoe

This morning is even colder but I’m quick to get moving, I’m going to the town of South Lake Tahoe today. It’s still about 14 miles, and I hope to make it by noon. My feet are shot though, my shoes needed replacing 250 miles ago. The multiple layers of cardboard I inserted into the depressed arches can no longer help me, I feel every rock and pebble. For some reason I’m also incredibly tired, I thought I slept well. I walk through the thick forest, dragging my body across the trail with the drive to eat a hot meal. A trail runner gives me a clementine, which I’m incredibly grateful for, but it gives me a boost for only a few minutes. The last few miles of the trail is of loose granite rocks, my least favorite. My shoes slip and slide as I am desperate not to twist my ankles. I curse the shoes and the trail at every close call. I make it down to the road, a hitch takes me 20 minutes, one of my longer ones. I get off at the Tahoe Valley Campground, a very well outfitted place with dozens of RVs and hundreds of campers. There is a small roped off section for PCT hikers as they get to stay free for two nights. The staff are incredibly welcoming. I grab the bus and head out to the sports outfitters. My pole tips are shot. My shoes are shot. My eyes are bloodshot. I look and feel like I’ve been up for over 24 hours, a sure way to keep people from talking to you on the bus. I stumble into the store which is a like a candy store for hikers. I look for the fattest shoes for the fattest feet. I know exactly what went wrong with my last pairs, so I’m determined to get it right. Getting it right unfortunately is expensive. The most expensive shoes, the Altra Olympus 6, the Mercedes Benz of trail shoes. I get a size up and am a little skeptical, but my feet actually fit. Another employee fixes my poles no problem. With those and a new spoon, I’m happy I went in with a plan, or else my pockets would be even emptier than they were. I put them on outside the store and walk around for a bit, and I literally can’t fight the smile back. It feels like a cloud. I get back to the campground after a few hours and find Dina and Martin. We had met Martin at Kennedy Meadows North. He’s a traditional Slovak mountain porter, carrying up to 200 pounds of supplies, food, and beer to the mountain huts. He’s a young man at 28, and the mountains seemed to have made look even younger. We go grab drinks and are some of the only audience members for a live act, the Cash Only band. They actually shred and they enjoy our cheers and hollering.

Fried

We slept next to a large lot of campers. A bunch of teen boys staying at the grounds while they attended a football camp. Hooping and hollering all night, some other campers yelled at them, but their coaches let them talk wild. I get it from the boys’ perspective, but the coaches should have done something. There were bears in the early morning, some campers’ stuff gets rummaged through, I lost a protein bar, which is fine by me. There are no bear boxes at this site which is crazy, as they know the bears are an issue. They didn’t make a sound. Dina left her food right next to her tent, and the bear had a can of wine and some yogurt, courtesy of Dina.

Charlie the trail angel serving up curry and rice

Her and I decide to set off separately, feels like what we both have actually wanted for a few days, which is strange because we also know we’re hitting one of the harder parts of the trail, the midway point. The mosquitoes really soured the last few days we had together, but we also don’t have shared goals with the trail. She doesn’t mind if she doesn’t finish, I very much mind. Either way, she made good company. We sit and chat while she has her morning coffee and cigarettes. I debate whether to stay another night, and quickly decide to do so. I don’t see myself getting a hotel for myself the rest of the trail.