20 miles
Day 53
July 26
20 miles
I'm ready to go by 7:30, but Knief and plant have already left by 6--the standard hiker time. I find one of knief's water bottles outside my tent, which he thought to leave me so that I would have extra water. What a guy!
I make my way to the trail head of this alternate trail, and hope it's fairly straightforward. I make good time for the first 8 miles, even though the sun is hot on my back. I start thinking about the transitory nature of trail friendships. How I've shared more with people I've hiked 25 miles with, than people I've dated for 6 months.
I wish I could transport all of these hikers to one place, and we could live with each other after the trail, in a magical land of made up names and big miles. But I know it wouldn't be the same. There is something special about this narrow piece of ground we walk; something that bonds us together, even for the short distances we may have together.
This all feels like an experiment in holding close and letting go. It's the letting go part I've always had trouble with, and now, almost 1,000 miles in, I realize this might be my most important trail lesson. How to enjoy what I have when I have it, and let it go when its time is done. I'm hoping that Barrel is waiting for me in Shelter Cove, but I remind myself that this hike is each our own; we owe nothing to each other. If my friends aren't there, it's not the end of the world, I simply have to hike my own hike. Say it like it's so easy.
In the midst of my musings, I pass by a side trail. I look at the sign, "MW Horse trail"...I don't think I want to take a horse trail, and the one I'm on looks more worn, so I continue on. In a mile the trail dumps me onto a gravel road. With no other directions to go on, I turn left and head toward what I think is the lake I'm supposed to walk past. As I'm walking down the road, a truck slowly goes past me, two older women looking at me with their windows down. I yell out, asking if I'm close to the lake, and before I know it, they are offering me a ride to Crescent Lake. I gladly accept, thinking the lake is less than a mile away. They end up driving me to Crescent lake the town, much further from the lake. They drop me at the visitor's center, and tell me they will come back after they go to the store, and will take me wherever I want to go.
The visitor's center is also the Realty office, and it's busy, so I study some maps and head back outside to wait for Deb and her wife to return. Barrel calls me while I'm waiting and gives me better directions to where the trail picks up again back at the lake. The ladies happily drive me back, and their happiness is so infectious it doesn't even matter that I'm behind schedule--I'm just glad I got to meet two more awesome trail angels.
I finally locate the trail--oh, guess what, I WAS supposed to take that random horse trail that I walked past--and head on my way. I stop at a nice little lake, called Diamond View lake, to each lunch, and stare out at the mountains. I decide to take my time, no longer trying to get there at any particular time. Barrel told me he might head back out on the trail this afternoon, so I figure there's no use rushing past a nice spot--either he's there whenever I show up, or he's not. Hold close; let go.
I make okay time the rest of the afternoon--finally getting to Shelter Cove around 5. Shelter Cove is an RV/cabin rental spot in a cove on Odell lake. There is a small (expensive) store with food and tackle, but otherwise there isn't much to do here. Walking through the park I see Plant, Knief and Barrel playing horseshoes. I'm glad I didn't rush to meet them, at the expense of enjoying my day, but I'm sure happy that they're still here.
They all seem to be well on their way to tipsy, but claim they are hiking out tonight. After another round of horseshoes, two large pizzas from the store, and more beer, I have convinced Knief and Barrel to stay the night. We pitch our tents in the designated PCT hiker spot, and spend the evening around the communal campfire. Knief and Barrel have had a large amount of beer, but claim they will hike out tomorrow. I plan to take a Nero--leaving around 1 or 2 and hiking out ten miles to an awesome sounding shelter that I discovered on my new Guthooks map ap. We all go to sleep a little drunk, and I think about how the trail seems to turn us into glutenous alcoholics whenever we get off it, some of us more than others.
Knief tells us a bedtime story about children being turned into raisins, and I laugh, drink a lot of water, and go to bed feeling pretty darn happy.
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