7/31/20; Mile: 1,482; Elevation: 3,163 ft.
My eerily quiet site last night, being that it was at least one time a road of some sort, had a decent view of the night sky, allowing me to witness another ISS flyover. It’s moments like this where I contemplate that where I’m at and what I’m doing is MY ENTIRE LIFE right now, but from up there I’m not even visible or even relevant. Humbling to say the least. Or maybe someone up there has found this blog and my tracker and is peering out a window trying to discern my whereabouts. How pretentious is that? For several years now, I’ve been experimenting with writing stories along this line; two radically different viewpoints/personas crossing paths for an instant and their observations of the scene. Then the plotline takes a tangent and follows the new character. I will have to pursue this some more even if it is only to satisfy my own curiosity. Here’s an early attempt about a trip I took to Death Valley.
Dry camps always motivate me to get up and get going. I HATE being short on water. And as I’ve said before, I hate walking off-trail much to get it. So, my water stop is ‘only’ 7 miles away. Thankfully, it’s also generally downhill. The trail just below Grizzly Peak is exposed to the south. I’m glad I’m here early in the day before the heat can get me. This next area of trail is also another that I’ve crossed paths with before. I rode my motorcycle (BMW R100GSPD) up to Grizzly Peak Lookout (now demolished) and spent the night. I still remember stopping at the trail crossing and wondering what it would be like to hike this trail. And here I am. I certainly don’t need to wonder anymore. Just beyond this crossing, the trail starts to go down a drainage with a very short side trail leading to a spring, my first water for the day. While not a large pool or anything, it’s still cool and clean. I also take the time to clean my feet and socks. Anything to alleviate and prevent foot issues. But they still hurt.
I can’t seem to get the lacing tension right on my shoes. Too loose and the heal slips on uphills. Too tight, and it causes tight spots. I start to adjust them depending on the slope I’m walking. It takes a little extra time, but it’s better than hot spots and blisters.
It’s more downhill to the next water stop and my midday break. It’s a wonderful creek called Butcherknife. How do these things get their names? I cool my feet and eat and rest. The trees since Grizzly Peak have been a godsend in this late July heat. Sure, there are limited views but life is all about give-and-take. A little over an hour down the trail we cross the McCloud River. Too soon for me to stop again, despite the deep pools that scream out “Swimming Hole!” Gotta make the miles. I’ve got a trail angel date tomorrow. And, no trail closure signs here; so I keep walking.
For 2-ish miles, the trail parallels the river. Looking at Guthooks, I know a climb is coming. I looking longingly down at the water and ponder a short break before making the climb, but there is no real easy access down to it here. Sure, I could “make it happen”, but at this stage of my new life, it’s all about managing time and energy. A sign on the trail indicating trail magic ahead at the next road crossing has my hopes up….and then they’re dashed. Whoever it was, they’re gone and forgot to remove their sign. Tease!
So now it’s afternoon. It’s warm/hot. And I have a 6-mile hill climb. So be it. It’s a piece of my life, so to complain about it would just be complaining about me and my life. It’s only 2 hours of my life, part of my new workday. Onward and upward.
It’s late afternoon, I’ve gone over 25 miles and I’m getting tired. Hiking in the trees approaching sunset, it gets dark earlier. And due to the terrain and foliage, campsites are limited here. Trying to find one near water reduces the number even further. The one I stop at is quite nice actually. Flat spots, sitting logs and a nearby creek. And it’s empty. I get my tent set up before full-on darkness and get water for dinner. While my dinner hot soaks, I get more water for tomorrow morning. By the time this cave in the trees is full-on dark, I’m in my tent. As I’m dozing off I’m awakened by human noises. Someone singing.
That can only be SOCO.
I’m always inspired by your blog- this one made me laugh when you said the water was “only” 7 miles away. I’d be dead just walking that far, forgetting the PCT!
Steve
So glad to see an update! Keeps me motivated…