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Day 11: detours

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Day 11
Miles: 19 (17 on-trail)
From water cache at 143 to San Jacintos, mile 160

The sun rises directly into our faces, and Buckeye is rocking Queen on his smartphone to start the day. Time to get up. All these AT veterans are showing their thru-hiker chops – we may be keeping pace with them during the day, but they pack up their gear about three times as fast. We’re bringing up the rear again.

I had thought that the valley down to the west was where we were headed, but the trail winds us north instead. Suddenly we are hiking in and out of steep, narrow valleys with striking views. J and I are both feeling good this morning. This is the first time I’ve really walked the miles, instead of trudging, limping, or mincing them. We nearly keep pace with the AT crowd, and we’ve managed to hike eight miles by 11 am. Onpoint is waiting at the junction of the PCT with highway 74, hoping to find a hiking buddy for the day.
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Day 10: it’s all downhill

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Day 10
Miles: 16
Trail Angel Mike’s to Anza water cache

The four of us shuffle out of the bunkhouse to a perfectly calm, blue morning. Mike’s put a thermos of coffee out, so we shake off the morning haze and get on our way. We’ve barely hit the trail when Buckeye yells,  “Promise!”

A hiker way down the trail yells back. It’s Promise, another Appalachian trail alumni who had hiked with both Buckeye and E.T. They decide to wait up for her and Latestart, who is hiking with her. Things are not feeling great with my knee or my feet this morning, so J and I decide to walk ahead and let them catch up. I’m determined to walk slowly today. I can’t let my knee keep giving out on me after lunch – I need it to work all the time.
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Day 9: unplanned stops

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Day 9
Miles: 12
Agua caliente spring to trail angel Mike’s house

I don’t know if the tarp saved us from dew last night, but it caught five big bird bombs for us, and all on my side. I’ll chalk that up for a win.

The area where we camped is basically a poison oak farm, and hiking out of the Agua Caliente valley is a poison oak gauntlet. I’m leading the way, and my morning conversation with J consists nearly entirely of poison oak alerts: “left side… right side…right side, left side, both sides! Both sides!” We spend some time speculating on why, if it’s poisonous, is it also camouflaged? All the sidling and ducking aggravates my wonky knee.
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Day 8: taking a break

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Day 8
Miles: 5
May 9, 2014
Warner Springs to Agua Caliente Creek (mile 115)

Cowboy camping turned out to not be a great idea. It was barely dark when we got hit with a heavy dew – the tops of our sleeping bags felt drenched, but it was too late to fix it and too late to care. I slept badly. My feet ached so badly that they woke me up all night. (Although that meant that I woke up to the milky way glimmering overhead – squinting through sleep to appreciate it, just for a moment.)
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Day 6: twenty miles

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Day 6
Miles: 20
Mile 71 (anza borrego) to mile 91 (san felipe hills)

J is telling me to wake up – it’s morning. I’m totally stiff – I don’t think I moved once the entire night. Our little campsite is calm and quiet. We’ve got some miles to make.

The trail has taken us through the hills of Anza Borrego state park, then traversed across their north face. Today we’ll need to finish the traverse, cross the valley, then head back up the San Felipe hills. We can see the switchbacks from here. There are no water sources in reach today. There are two water caches, but last I heard the scissors crossing water cache was no longer being maintained, and I don’t know much about the other. J and I still have nearly nine liters apiece, so we’ll be fine regardless, but we’re starting out heavy. I feel very grounded, as in, pressed into the ground.
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Day 5: (almost) blown away

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Day 5
Miles: 16
Mile 55 to mile 71

The tarp is so low that it smacks me in the face as it whips in the wind. It makes it hard to forget that there are gale force winds outside, although it is surprisingly calm inside. I pull my quilt over my head and try to sleep.

It’s an uneasy night for the both of us. When we both wake up in the middle of the night, one of the corner guylines has snapped and the ridgeline is sagging. Like a true hero, J goes out to fix it. I’m surprised it’s still standing.

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Day 3: first trees

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Day 3
Miles: 11
Cibbetts flat campground to Mt Laguna

I feel completely exposed – J and I are lying on a groundsheet in the middle of a campground, surrounded by people coming out of their tents and RVs. We’re not really that close to them, but it’s like having people in your bedroom. I turn over on my air mattress. “Is it time? ” I ask J.
“Yeah, I guess we’ll do this. Are we gonna be bandits?” he replies.
“Sure.”
We start getting ready to sneak out of the campground. We’d meant to walk the extra 1/4 mile last night, so we wouldn’t be in the fee campground, but just couldn’t make it. Our “sneaking out” is somewhat leisurely – I’m just not moving very fast.

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Day 2: keep walking

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Day 2
Miles: 18.4
Hauser Creek to Cibbetts Flat Campground

I have all these things I meant to write but it’s the end of the day and I’m just a muddle of exhaustion. A muddle puddle of tired tired tired.

I wake up to easy morning light, J next to me. All around us are beautiful little campspots, but it seems like J and I managed to pick the ugliest one. The only flat spot on it was infested with the biggest ants I’ve ever seen (and I lived in the Amazon for two years) so we set up on the steep side. We’re a couple feet from where we started last night. I feel – cautiously optimistic. I rebandage my blisters and it’s time to go.

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Day 1: Tired feet

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5/2/2014
Day 1
Miles: 15

I’m a flustered mess. I’ve been searching in my pile of stuff for some toothpaste for nearly an hour and everyone is waiting. I finally throw in a different tube and we all head out. “Why is your backpack dripping,” asks my sister. “Uh, it shouldn’t be,” I say as I swing it down. The culprit seems to be an untightened lid on my camelbak, but during the inspection I discover a small hole in the bottom of my pack. “G, seriously, get it together” I think. Then I realize I can’t find my sarong but it’s time to go. 
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Day 0: the beach

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Day: 0
Miles: 0

Speeding through night towards San Diego, J said, “So don’t hate me, but would you entertain the idea of not starting hiking tomorrow, and taking a beach day instead?”

I instantly hated the idea. Another day of STILL not starting? Then my exhaustion punched me in the face and told me to come to my senses.

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