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Day 27: Best kind of morning

Day 27
Miles: 7

I wake up and look outside the tarp – it’s the crack of dawn, cracking its way into my little blue home. Behind a screen of pines, the day breaks pink and gold, and J and I watch the sun rise with our heads still on our pillows. “So this is what sunrise looks like!” I exclaim. “It’s beautiful!”
“Who knew?” jokes J. We watch the sunrise snuggled together. The morning fades into normal morning-ness and we go back to sleep. No point in wasting a perfectly cool, lovely morning by being awake.

I’m exhausted. J and I can pull big days, but when we start stacking them in a row it takes us down pretty quick. We only have seven miles to do today – if we’re taking a rest day, why not rest here, on the mountain, in the pines? So we stay.
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Day 26: faultlines and climbs

Day 26
Miles: 19
From a few miles from Cajon Pass to cool views above Wrightwood

I don’t know why I bother setting the alarm. It’s a joke. I turned that sucker off and went back to bed. An hour and a half later and I regret it already – I’m overheated before even crawling out of bed. I can keep a committment to anybody else but myself. I’m always willing to let myself down, turns out.

It takes us an hour to pack up and now it’s really hot. I don’t know who turned up the heat on the sun today, but it was unnecessary. My feet hurt. My hair is in my face. I’m sweaty. I’m hot.
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Day 25: going backwards

Day 25
Miles: 20
From the Mojave Siphon Power Plant to a couple miles past Cajon Pass

J’s Aunt Amy makes us a breakfast of veggie omelets, strawberries and toast. Back to trail food after this… J’s cousin Dan loads us up and whisks us back to the ugly power plant where he picked us up. “Are you sure you don’t to just start back up from Wrightwood?” he asks us, one more time. We’re sure. It seems kind of silly to go backwards just so we can walk back into Wrightwood two days from now, but being committed to walking the entire trail makes all of our other decisions less complicated. “Are we really doing this?” we ask ourselves. Yes. The answer is always yes. Forward-ho.
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Day 24: rest

Miles: zero
Wrightwood

J and I have been relaxing, eating blueberries, and hanging out with adorable three-year-olds. It’s everything I hoped and dreamed. While I have a moment, I thought I’d give a call-out to my favorite pieces of gear so far.

Favorite piece of gear #1:
My rainpants. I thought about leaving these at home – why would I need rainpants in Southern California? They’ve been a super wind layer. They’ve been the one extra piece of clothing when the puffy jacket just isn’t getting the job done. They’re my in-town pants when the rest of my clothes are in the laundry. Worth the weight.
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Day 23: in town early

Day 23
Miles: 7
From our creekside camp to the Mojave Siphon Power Plant (then Wrightwood)

We set two alarms last night – our first for the trip. One was for the middle of the night – there was supposed to be a meteor shower. The other was our wake-up call at the shockingly early hour of 6:30.

When the first alarm went off, J and I squinted through sleep up at the sky. In the minute and a half we could keep our eyes open, we didn’t see a single meteor. What kind of meteor shower is this??

The second alarm is going off now – what a terrible way to wake up. I’d usually rather get a late start, but we’re meeting J’s cousin on the side of the road at ten and we still have some miles to do.
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Day 22: naps and a show

Day 22
Miles: 8
From Deep Creek to 8 miles from Deep Creek

Hot spring soak in the morning, what a life. Most of the thru-hikers are on the trail before I’ve even had breakfast, but Sylvia and Billy have the same plans as us: rest day at deep creek.

It’s warm and sunny, which means J can dry out his stuff. I managed to keep my clothes and bag dry yesterday, but J didn’t. He tucked his plastic trash bag around his stuff instead of putting his stuff inside – looks like I won’t be adopting his method.
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Day 21: it all ends at the hot tub

Day 21
Miles: 22.5
From holcombe creek to deep creek hot springs

In Ray Jardine’s book on tarp camping, he harps endlessly on how ventilation is the point of a tarp. Supposedly, this is to prevent condensation inside your tent. I’ve had a sneaking feeling that maybe Ray’s wife just got tired of being hotboxed with rehydrated bean farts.

Last night, though, J and I chose not to follow Ray’s instructions on keeping the tarp ventilated, and we closed off both of the tarp’s open ends, one end with the insert (the batwing), and the other with our umbrellas. We were so cold. I woke up in the middle of the night with condensation raining down on me. Whoops. Should have gone with the ventilation after all. It got cold enough that the condensation froze for a while – it was a chilly night.
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Day 18: breaking the barrier

Day 18
Miles: 21
Creekside camp to Arrastre Trail camp

We have big plans to go big miles today – I still don’t want to get up. My infected blisters from last night don’t look better but they don’t look worse. “What are you going to do about them,”asks J.
  “Walk twenty-one miles on them, I guess,” I say glumly.

By the time we pack up camp it’s almost nine. Jacques walks through while we’re packing up. He made it! I wasn’t sure we were going to see him. Our commiseration session must have been as therapeutic for him as it was for me. Sometimes the affirmation that things are hard keeps them from being impossible.
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Day 17: over the hills

Day 17
Miles: 17
From whitewater preserve to a creekside camp on the north fork of mission creek

“You don’t have to hike at all today if you don’t want to,” I tell myself. That’s so I get out of bed. Getting out of the tarp is bizarre – where have I ended up? We stumbled here in the dark, so I look around now. Apparently this place used to be a little trout farm for kids. The trout ponds are still here, filled with trout the size of my leg. There’s a fake waterfall and a big grass park, where we’re camped. Flush toilets. Huge sandstone cliffs straight out of Afghanistan rise above us, and beyond the grass is the vast, braided river channel – a scene straight from the Yukon. The morning is breezy with a cool film of clouds, a gentle break from yesterday.
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Day 16: new lows

Day 16
Miles: 18
From lower san jacinto (mile 201) to whitewater preserve

The tarp stood up to the wind all night, but we were sand- blasted anyway. I kept pulling my sleeping bag over my head, to keep out the sand, but then I’d wake up a little later drenched in sweat. I’d wake up after that to wipe the sand off my face, and pull my bag over my head. Repeat. “I don’t think I slept all night,” moans J.
   “Shoulda tried earplugs,” I commiserate. I’ve got an entire sandbox in my ear crevices and nose. Despite the sand, we’ve overslept. Time to walk. My feet hate me.

We limp up to the spigot at the base of the mountain and collapse in relief. We’ve been thirsty since last night and hot for a lot longer. While we’re filling up and soaking our shirts to cool off, up trots an incredibly cheerful woman. “Where you coming from this morning?” I ask.
   “Idyllwild!” She replies brightly.
Idyllwild?? It’s ten in the morning! That’s 24 miles away! She has magnificent thighs, fabulous calves, and then I see her shoes. They look like regular trail runners except for the two and a half inch thick foam soles.
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