25 miles
I'm starting to really dislike Northern California.
By 8:30 I'm sweating hard. Going slow, not sure why, until I hit a patch of shade, cruise through it, and realize how much the sun has been zapping my energy.
I'm carrying two liters of water--there is a water source off trail in 8 miles. Right now I'm thinking this is probably just enough to get me there. When I finally arrive, around 12:30, I take the half mile long side trail to Alder Creek. It will be a mile total out of my way, but is the only source of water for 15 miles. I leave my pack and all my belongings at the spot where the side trail starts, taking only my water bottles. The trail looks well-used and easy to follow so I try to make this detour quick.
Suddenly the trail disappears, and turns into a confusing intersection of not often used jeep roads and No Trespassing signs. I regret having left my phone with my pack. I try to remember the twists and turns I've taken, no longer having a defined trail to guide me, but when I get to the no trespassing sign, I start to lose hope of making it to this creek. I see some footprint leading down the road, past the sign, but I turn around and head back. Knowing that I will just have to make it another 7 miles on one liter of water. Why does this keep happening to me?!
The next seven miles are all up hill, above the tree line, without shade. Because of course. I walk for three miles without shade. During the hottest portion of the day. I don't mean to belabor the fact, but THREE MILES without shade or water sucks. "Sucks" isn't nearly the right word. "Terrifying" is probably more accurate. It is at this point that I start to fantasize about snow cones.
I've never been super keen on snow cones--some shaved ice with fruity syrup on top? Waste of money--but suddenly I would give you everything I have for a snow cone. Preferably an adult beverage snow cone that I can enjoy while relaxing in a pool. I start to have delirious word associations race through my head. I think, "If only Kacie was here we could pool our water together...oh, god, I want a pool!" Or, "It's okay, Bree, just go with the flow...oh, flowing water!" Water is all I can think about. I've never had this problem before, and I don't know how to deal with it. So I just keep walking, noticing the sweat as it drips down my face, wondering how much water I'm losing with each drop.
I think it would be similar to going to a hot yoga class or sauna without the steam, bringing a stairstepper, and going for 10 hours. Take a break every time you think you're going to pass out. Try not to drink all your water.
It's like this for hours. Nine hours to be exact. That's how long it takes me to walk 15 miles. The sun and the snow are my nemeses. I left NM because I hated the heat, and I want to leave MN because I hate the snow--both of which have plagued me on the trail. I start to think the trail has a wicked sense of humor. Or this is all just a giant metaphor to learn to be happy with what you have. I'm too tired for metaphors.
I'm about 13 miles in, and am becoming really concerned about getting heat stroke. I just finished the last of my water, and it's only 4pm, with no sign of cooling down for at least 3-4 more hours. Suddenly, like a handout from the trail (because even though she tries to kill you, she doesn't want you to actually die) I come across a seeping trickle of water on the side of the trail. It is barely a trickle, and it dries up directly at my feet, but OH MY GOD! It takes me twenty minutes to fill two liters of water. I drink the first one while the second is filling up, and I want to cry from pure happiness, but I don't want to waste the tears.
A mile later I stop and eat a celebratory snickers bar and drink another half liter. I expect to feel magically revived, but I barely feel any change. I'm dragging my feet, wilting in the sun. I imagine I look a lot like one of those kids you see at the State Fair after a long, hot day with too much fried foods and sugar: Feet barely leaving the pavement, body slightly weaving, head too heavy to lift up. That's me. If that kid was carrying another kid on his back.
One more mile and I reach the creek! After walking for 9 miles with only 2 liters of water. I soak my feet, wash out two pairs of socks (because there hasn't been enough water to wash anything out), wash my legs and face, and relax for 15 minutes. It's 5:30, and I still have 9 more miles to do. Sigh.
I'm finally in the shade, having dipped down into the trees on the east side of a mountain. Feeling stronger and revived, I start flying down the trail. I do the first 3 miles in an hour! I finish the 9 miles in a little over 3 hours (what a difference having mostly shade can make!), and come across 3 creeks, 1 river and multiple little streams during that time. Where were these 8 hours ago?!
I hit the sun for a bit when the path curves around the mountain, but by 7 the mountains rise up to block out the sun and it is magical. I finally get to the campsite around 8:30--a big official campsite with 6 spots and a pit toilet. It is completely empty. I pick a spot, make camp, fill up my water at the enormous river a few feet away, and start to make dinner. I quickly realize that I left my knife at last night's camping spot. Damn it! I'm not hungry, but I force down some food and more water. I haven't had a lack of appetite on the trail since my first couple of days, and I know that I must be really dehydrated.
It gets dark quickly after I get to camp, and I hop in my tent to avoid the still numerous bugs. I worry about bears, since this is more of an official camping area, and put some large rocks near my tent, in case I need to scare any away.
I worry about my feet. Two days of hard walking have taken their toll once again, and it's not a pretty sight. I don't want to walk in the heat tomorrow. I wish for shade and lots of water.
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