Day 19. March 19. Mile 223.4 to Mile 243.9

Day 19. Sunday March 19. Mile 223.4, elevation 2798, to Mile 243.9, elevation 3478. Walked 20.5 miles, 2182 ft up, 1497 ft down. 

Dear Trail Friends,

The trail today was relatively flat, had mostly smooth tread and was easy to find. I did get lost once but noticed when I was only 300 ft off trail and even found a path that met the trail without backtracking. 

It definitely feels like real desert now, in these lower elevations. In the cool morning air, I marvel at how the cholla shines in the sunlight and see it all as beautiful as in photo 1. 

 

But this morning was not all bliss. We (I have been - not actually hiking with - but camping with and planning water stops with - Cynthia and Bruce from Seattle) stopped for water early in the morning.  I had thought I got enough yesterday to last me until the next cache but realized by morning I was a little short. But this water from a tank was very green and would not go though my filter.  The little bit that went through I had to use to backwash the filter so more would go through. I finally gave up and hiked straight through to the water cache without any rests (at rest stops, I usually eat, "wash" my rehydration jar, and start rehydrating my next meal - all water consuming activities. ) I arrived at noon at the cache.  Bruce and Cynthia were already there. (They had started hiking at 5am and arrived at the first water spot at least an hour before me) had hiked "11 by 11" (11 miles by 11 am in the morning.)

This water cache, like the previous one, had a number of gallon bottles of water marked "public," stored in a large metal resupply box. Unlike the other cache,  this had a request (via the comment section of the gps app) that hikers please hike out the empty bottles. I found this perplexing. Why wouldn't the trail angels take the bottles back and refill them? I considered it a breakthrough that, despite being unable to understand, I accepted the fact that they made the request. I attached two empty gallon bottles to the back of my pack )one for me and one for other hikers who didn't know about, or ignored, the request - but not six like one hiker bragged - in the comments section - that he hiked out.  I am striving for responsibility not sainthood). The plastic bottles don't weigh much, but they do clack in the wind. 

Bruce and Cynthia stayed near the cache in a sheltered area with partial shade and decided to wait til the day cooled to start hiking again. I left at 1:15pm and hiked through the next two hours with mid-day (hot, direct sun) angst. I thought about how unwelcoming I found the desert (a piece of cholla had stuck to my pant legs during my rest stop at the cache, and although I removed it, and some needles stuck into one of my stuff bags, easily with the comb I brought along for that purpose, I still felt the desert was full of prickly "people" just waiting to jump on me and stick their sharp needles into me.)

As I walked, I thought about how "held" I felt by the PCT world. I felt that I was a part of the environment, welcomed, in some sense loved. In this desert environment I felt unwelcome. An outsider. This led me to ask myself what am I doing here? I'm not happy like I was on the PCT (of course for the purposes of this particular conversation I was always happy on the PCT and never happy on the Arizona trail.)

So what was I doing here - going through this ordeal that had been all hardship even in the planning stages, and not fun? Was it a pilgrimage to learn about emerging out of darkness? I reflected on the darkest period of my life, the time after my parents' divorce and remarriages when I felt unwelcome and an outsider in the families I lived in. I thought how that experience shaped my life and my perception of who I am in harmful ways. But I also thought about the good things that came out of those years, like stones or scorpions that glow in the dark. 

The desert around me was lovely (photos 2 and 3) but in the mid-day heat it did not move me. It seemed boring, repetitive, hostile. 

 

Then the terrain changed. There were outcroppings of rock that felt warm and welcoming. One cluster reminded of something Georgia O'Keefe might paint. (Photo 4)

 

When I got closer I saw I could sit leaning against a large boulder and rest in its shade. As soon as I sat down (my first real solitary rest of the day) the big quiet place opened up in my heart and everything changed. Funny in this theme of dark and light how shade is deliverance from too much light. 

Later Bruce and Cynthia reached me. I had left my poles at the gate just before my boulder and Cynthia brought them to me. Wow - did that save me some suffering. I had not yet even noticed them missing much less begin to panic about where I might have left them. 

Cynthia thought she wanted to hike to the next water spot and I thought I would join them (not hike with them, but try to reach the next water spot before dark. It was after 4 and we had 5 1/2 miles still to go). I enjoyed the challenge, hiked as fast as I could, but was absolutely delighted to find Cynthia and Bruce stopped two miles short of the goal, camping in a wash that I had actually been planning to camp in before Cynthia's suggestion. 

We are all planning a stop in Kearny and a night at Kearny Inn, though I will take a "zero" day and they will go on. Though we'd planned to arrive Tuesday we are finding the terrain so easy that we may hike in tomorrow (Monday). 

By the way, I mentioned that we camped in a wash. Arizona has all these dry stream beds, with nice coarse sand/gravel good for pitching a tent on. They fill with water during heavy storms in monsoon season and are dry the rest of the year. Great to camp in - provided that it doesn't rain. If I've already told you about them, please excuse me for telling you again. As you know, my memory doesn't work as well as I wish it did. 

I am in my cozy little tent feeling very happy. My mid-day angst feels faraway now. Maybe tomorrow we will go into Kearny and I will have a shower, a mattress, a cooked meal. 

See you on the trail.