Dear Trail Friends,
It was an up and down day both in terms of the walk and in terms of my mood.
It was fun having my tent nearby Larry and Marcella last night. After the rain Larry was outside his tent and he told me the sky was perfectly clear and he could see the stars. "I've heard of it raining when the sun is out" he said "but I've never heard of it raining when the stars are out."
I woke up at 4am and did all my morning stuff (drink my protein drink + coffee, start breakfast hydrating, pack up my sleeping bag, put on my socks, lift my pack and food bag and emergency bag out of the tent, roll up and pack my deflated air mattress, take down my tent, pack my backpack - air mattress and sleeping bag at the bottom, then food bag and emergency bag (which includes all my health and gear "repair" stuff - an emergency blanket, ultralight towels, needle and thread, lots of tape - duct, gorilla, physiology, leukotape - moleskin, antibiotic ointment, fungicide, etc. ) oops that's parentheses within parentheses you are going to be as lost in this sentence as I get on the trail - I'm even lost in it to tell you the truth - and then, we are packing the backpack, remember, my clothes stuff sack smooshed in front of the food and emergency bags, the tent bag on top of that and, if I am carrying more than the two half liter bottles that ride on my shoulder pouches, a 2-liter bottle of water wrapped in a heavy duty plastic bag (to slow down spillage in case of a leak) which bag doubles as a doormat for my tent.
So I did all that, hoisted my pack and set off walking at 5am. I had my head lamp on and my iPhone propped in my shirt front pocket so it's light was on the trail. I had to use the sternum strap of my pack to pin back my layers - over my shirt my tiny lime green down puffy, black merino wool underwear (worn as over wear), turquoise synthetic puffy jacket - so they didn't cover the iPhone light.
First challenge: find the trail. I had arrived late exhausted and seen my friends tent and crossed the stream to camp beside them without noticing where the trail went. Between gps and iPhone light I am happy to report that we found the trail.
But the trail was hard. It was hard and it was uphill and I was slow. I think I went a half mile in the first hour. I started to get depressed. I am so weak and slow that I'm not going to be able to go even 15 miles a day. I'm not going to be able to make a plan. My body is getting old and feeble and unpredictable. Unlike on the PCT where I got faster and stronger with every hike, here I am just getting weaker. My hiking days are over. And so on. Maybe you know how to amplify worries?
I stopped at 5 miles (which took me 4 hours - do the math, in 12 hours of daylight I could never hike 15 miles and have any rests or breaks) and ate my black beans and rice (with coconut milk powder, peanut powder, dehydrated homemade chicken stock, sweet potatoes, peas). That used to be dinner but for reasons no longer relevant I switched it and now have come to prefer having dinner in the morning and breakfast (chia seeds, oats, dehydrated blueberries and bananas, coconut milk powder, peanut powder, and vanilla protein powder with 2 servings of greens) in the afternoon/evening. These meals might not sound wonderful to you (especially the rehydrating without a stove and eating at ambient temperature) but I assure you they taste divine to me on the trail.
So I am eating my breakfast and settling into the notion of planning a hike without attachment to outcome, of accepting my weakness and slowness as "enough" and of not letting my attachment to planning and my joy in keeping or surpassing my plans keep me from enjoying the beauty all around me- and along comes another hiker. I ask how far he is going. He says his wife will pick him up at -- (I forget where. He lives in Scottsdale) -- and I say "what then?" And he says "we'll see." I tell him I am having a terrible time letting go of my plans and facing the reality that I can't do as much as I planned. He says "the trail is a wonderful teacher. " he comments on the clear passage earlier in the morning (recently cleared by a conservation corps group who were camped along the trail) compared with the more recent part with brush encroaching on the trail.
Hiking through that brush was a challenge. It was pretty strong and when I pushed it out of the way it snapped back and whacked me in the face several times. I kept thinking though how lucky I was that it wasn't cat claw. I had a couple run ins with cat claw - at my tent site and at this very rest spot and truly appreciated that the encroaching plants were not tearing me and my gear to shreds.
I hiked into and through a beautiful wilderness area called Four Peaks - here they are close up in photo 1.
Roosevelt Lake - a man made Lake created by a dam built under Ted Roosevelt - is immense. I continued to see it behind and below me yesterday and today as in photo 2.
Spring of course continues to surprise me with new blossoms as in collage-photo 3.
By my second rest stop I realized that not every 5 miles was going to take 4 hours (even for poor feeble old me) and that I could probably make my 15 miles. Meanwhile it began to look and smell like rain. Getting out my rain gear is an incredibly complex operation. It lives in a mesh sack which lives in a mesh pouch in the outside of my pack (ingenious, right? When it's wet, it won't get other stuff wet inside the pack). I have to pull the sack out of the pouch (which I also tie it to because I have had stiff fall out of that pouch and get lost. Then I have to loosen the incredibly resistant pull strings of the sack. Then pry the pack cover out of its tiny sack, persuade the pack to let me swaddle it in the cover, clip it on (yes they do fall off and get lost especially in wind and this was turning into a windy day), tighten its pull string. Get out my rain jacket and wrestle it on and try to convince the ultralight zipper that it has a function other than being light. Pull the rain skirt over my head and zip it up and then realize I have it on upside down so try again and then pull the waist draw string. Hoist my pack, figure out a way to buckle the pack so rain jacket and skirt are underneath but waist pack is outside and above backpack belt. And don't forget to push the bandanas clipped to the waist pack inside the pack do they don't get wet. Then try to get the poncho on. This involves persuading the back of the poncho to fall straight and all the way down over the oack so I can grab the little elastic lines and hooks at the waist on the back of the poncho and pull them around to the front and hook them together. Then finally my rain mittens get pulled on over my fingerless gloves and I'm all set to hike in the rain.
You might think this is a bit much and you would be right. But I have a healthy fear of - oh darn another word got away - ah! Hypothermia. And one can get drenched and then chilled in a downpour very quickly. Also one's down skeeping bag, if wet, loses all capacity to hold warmth.
My timing was terrific. Moments later it began to rain and then to hail. Then it stopped. The sun shone. Then it started again just when I was about to make a rest stop at this rare (in Arizona) and beautiful creek (photo 4).
I decided I'd rather rest and eat my afternoon meal safely inside my tent and that's what I did. Stopped hiking early (an unprecedented 5 pm) at exactly 15 miles. Actually had phone visits with both Chris and sister Judy.
As I was walking up the road (this part of trail was a long walk on a dirt road) I began to notice what a lonely feeling place this was. I wondered how a place could be lonely. All of a sudden it occurred to me that I might be lonely. What a concept. Good thing I have you walking with me or is probably feel that way a lot.
So photo 5 is a collage of the road and my campsite. You ydecide - is it me, or is this a lonely place?
As for me, I am cozy inside my tent. It is dark now and though there are lots of clouds there are also some stars shining through. I am grateful for the warmth of your attention and companionship. Like the morning sun, you illuminate everything.
See you on the trail tomorrow.
I can't image doing this journey without feeling lonely at times. I yhink you are too hard on yourself
ReplyDeleteYou say you have memory shortages but you can recall almost every detail of your daily walk each evening. Your detailed descriptions along with your reflections are exquisite. Born writer, adventurer, and thinker!