August 18
21 miles
I wake up at 5:30, pack up, go to the hot springs for one last quick soak, and don't hit the trail until 7:45. Oops. My shoes still haven't dried out from yesterday's creek crossing (damn gortex), so I put on my hiking sandals.
Washington is beautiful and terrible in the same breath.
These days we gain 5,000-10,000 ft throughout the day, and lose about the same. Up the mountain. Down the mountain. All day. Every day.
Halfway into my day, and I really start to regret taking this alternate route. The trail is not very well maintained, overgrown with brush, strewn with logs, steeply graded, and just a general twisted-ankle-waiting-to-happen trail. I'm moving slow, trying to be cautious, but the trail is steep and covered in mud-slicked rocks. I take a step and suddenly find myself in a sort of split, my left leg bent awkwardly behind me, my legs and butt in the mud. I don't feel like I hurt myself too badly, so I stagger up and continue on my way. Down, down, down; up, up, up.
I come to a bridge that has been broken for who knows how long, and awkwardly scramble across it. This trail!
Mushrooms bigger than my feet!
The views are amazing, but the descents are taking their toll on my knees. It's hard to get back on the trail after being off for so many days. My body feels soft; my head elsewhere.
By the time I get back to the PCT my legs feel shot. I take a breather and see a hiker coming up the trail toward me who looks familiar. It's Kneif! And he shaved his beard! I give him a big hug, and hear someone say, "is that Pip?" I turn to find Jonny Rocket and Salty setting up their tents. They tell me Maniac and British Will (from Sierra City) are just behind them. I explain how I managed to get ahead of them, and then say I have to do a few more miles today, but that I'll plan on camping w them tomorrow night.
But then I only go 3 more miles before I decide I have to stop, my body feeling weak and sore. I find myself on top of a giant rock covered in a thin layer of moss. I leave my pack there and walk a mile or so down the trail, figuring if I find a better spot to camp than the rock I'll go back and get my pack. I find nothing, so head back and set my tent up with heavy rocks holding the tent stakes down. I'm nowhere near water, so I can hear every noise around me. I hear a Barred (?) owl (the "who cooks for you" hoot giving it away), and a screech owl, and then I hear a low grunting. And I know it's a bear. And I try not to freak out, just ring my bell a bit, and hope I'm not camping on its rock.
I put my headphones in my ears to block the animal noises and fall into a semi decent sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment