Do You Know The Way To San Jose?

I made the rash decision at 5:30 A.M. to come home for a few days. I had mountain top internet service and found a possible route if I hurried along. A little highway walk to the bus station to the 3:35 Sacramento train to San Jose, and I would be in my baby's arms by dinner time. Out of the 70 passengers on board, it's only natural that 3 happened to be my relatives! Sure, it was a little embarrassing bumping into aunt Brenda smelling to high heavens with my six pack of Bud Light under arm, but it was an absolute delight to see family just hours after waking up on a slab of rock!

What I thought would only be a few days off trail turned into five. It was surreal, like I time traveled right back to my old life. I was surrounded with amazing company and had a wonderful time. Oh, how I missed those Original Joe's meatballs and the luxury of a warm bed. I didn't experience the culture shock so much, but definitely noticed some changes... like my acute hearing abilities. Chris laughed when I asked if he could bring me two tums, as I heard the plastic bottle opening in the bathroom down the hall.

I bumped into an old friend at Trials, the go-to pub on 1st street, who asked, "aren't  you cheating, coming home like this in the middle of your trip?" Well, perhaps some hikers view it as such, but I don't really think of my PCT experience as a game or a race. I'm hiking a trail... an extremely intense long distance trail across the country. I'm doing this for myself. As Nadia so truthfully reminds me, the book has already been written, thousands of hikers have done this before me. I'm finding my own unique way across country and nobody's going to stop me, even if it includes a few extra Sunday morning Bloody Mary's along the way.

Now, would I recommend a hiker head home for a week in the middle of their trip? Hell no! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get back on? It was more difficult than day one. I lost all my momentum; exhausted and homesick. My yawns now take three breaths. Chris drove me to the trail and we car camped atop Carson's Pass. It was so nice showing him what I've been up to these past months. We counted 5 shooting stars, the most we've seen together in our entire relationship. As he was leaving the parking lot early the next morning, he rolled down the window and said the most painful words, "do you want to come home?" Of course I want to come home... But I can't. Not yet. I'm so close and have come so far. I just can't.

I have no regrets. This is my little adventure and if I made it a bit more difficult my stopping home, I know it sure was worth it to be close to the love of my life, even for just one second.

She's mad but she's magic, there's no lie in her fire. - C. Bukowski

Did somebody say fire? There was smoke in the air when I woke up in Sierra City. Nobody seemed concerned. They said it was coming from the North, and the new King Fire down South would be out by the time I would get close. I checked the fire reports and trail closures and all looked ok. Time to head out.

It sure made for a beautiful sunset. I woke up the next morning covered in ash. It rained warm white flakes as I hiked on (jogged on in fear). By 4 P.M., the smokey sky was orange and the sun was a bright shade of red, still hours before sunset. This was scary. I had no clue how close I was to danger and still days away from my next stop. It smelt as though the fire was just a few miles away. I made it through safely before the trail closed down, but this hiking stretch shook me up. Not something I would choose to do again or advise others to attempt, as well.

My thoughts are with all those affected effected by the King Fire and all those who've worked at fighting it.

What I think about when I think about hiking

An ode to Mr. Murakami

1. I've seen a million fallen trees, but how come I've never seen a tree fall?

2. How many acres of forest would it take to fill an IKEA warehouse? 

3. When marmots perch and whistle away on the high mountain slopes, are they enjoying the view?

4. Can we make outdoor education a mandatory element of public education curriculum?!

5. If a chicken and a half laid an egg and a half how much would a hen weigh? (Thanks uncle Mike)

6. Why is it that mosquitoes are NOT attracted to my bleeding wounds, yet prefer penetrating skin to suck out the red gold?

7. Can a thru-hiker really know what she smells like?

8. Dirt or tan lines?

9. If I look long and hard enough, will I ever find a pterodactyl foot print in the rock?

10. Who have I become?

You've got a friend in me

I'm surprised at how I haven't been more lonely on the trail, especially being such a social person. I know it sounds silly, but I try to make friends with the animals and trees around me as I hike. I've built a particular relationship with my shadow, of all things.

For the most part, we get along well. I know she better be on my right side before noon and on my left as the sun sets to the West for me to be heading in the proper direction. I miss her on cloudy days, and love her dearly when she is long and strong at dusk. There is some jealousy building up, too. I mean, I'm the one who's hiking all the miles while she gets to float along for a free ride. And no matter how close I am to the earth, she is always in between us... even at night when I lay on the ground, there is a layer of black underneath me. But we have fun together. I can make her do silly things and dance without any resistance. I hardly recognize her as myself. I'm not the same woman I used to be; in shape nor spirit. It's nice having a friend on the trail, even if that friend is a part of me.

Scaredy Cat

People always ask me, "Wait, you're hiking alone? Aren't you scared?! Are you caring a gun?!" 

I finally got a real tast of fear last night. I decided to camp early after a 25 mile day and be in my sleeping bag to watch the sunset. I haven't used my tent in over a month, as the weather is perfect and mosquitoes are nonexistent. I turn to the left to find a giant caterpillar on my pillow. This thing was HUGE. I'm talking almost three inches. My old friend Scott Haas stopped me from picking up a itty bitty catapiller on a pre-PCT hike and informed me that they are poisonous. Shit. I'm going to bite the dust from a little bug and not something more prestigious, such as a wild bear attack?

If you know one thing about bugs, it's that they love to crawl into warm, dark, moist openings (good thing my sleeping bag was zipped tight). He was headed straight for my mouth, I just know it. I was trembling and the thought stream invaded. If you touch it, will it kill you? Do you need to eat it to get the full dose of lethal poison? If it touches your pillow and then you later touch your pillow, will you die? Where is Wikipedia when you need it?

With little time to spare, I quickly grabbed my trekking pole and made an attempt to fling him across the forest. Little success. It landed two feet away, maybe a twenty minute crawl. Flung him again, and again until he was out of sight. Now, as the sun had already set, everything was out of sight. Great. In the darkness, I made a mote around my sleeping bag to keep out all other deadly insects and tried to think of a white ring of protection surrounding me. I was terrified and sang myself lullabies to help me sleep.

I'm embarrassed. Really? This is your scariest PCT moment beside self arresting with the ice axe? It's not all that bad out here... I mean the bears run from me and I haven't seen a mountain lion to be afraid of yet. When I think about it, I'm more afraid of falling down, bad weather, rodents getting into my food or forgetting an important piece of gear behind. The city scares me more, these days. Violence. Hatred. Aggression. Injustice. I can handle a caterpillar now, and I still don't want a gun. 

Halfway

I don't need to tell you how I'm feeling... I'm sure you can guess.

Serendipitous

Drakesbad Guest Ranch is a dream come true. I woke up at 4:30 a.m. to make it in time for breakfast. I missed a trail junction and had to backtrack a mile. Uggggh. They stop serving at 8:30, so I ran the last two miles in order to make it in time. Oh, what hikers will do for all you can eat meals. With ten minutes to spare, the famous Ed greeted me with a huge hug and made me feel like I was home.

A beautiful family from San Jose invited me to dine with them, and I couldn't be more happy. Who else should I find in the dinning room? None other than the gorgeous NOBO hiker, 300. We crossed paths on the trail outside of Trout Lake and I remember saying that we'll meet again because I was so moved by her energy. Even though we only shared a few words in passing, that woman left a big impression on me. How cool to see her with her family now that she finished her hike. 

After breakfast, I headed down to the hot spring fed pool where I met four others celebrating a birthday. When you see red plastic cups out before 10:00 A.M., it can only mean one thing: Bloody Mary's. Who told them I would be coming? They ran back to the car to fix me up with one... home pickled asparagus, lime and garlic stuffed olive included. Oh, life is good... sometimes, too good to believe. 

Magic

I don't want to write too much here, because part of the magic is being completely surprised by what is in store. The Wild Bird Cache blew my mind. People told me that my faith in humanity would be restored by this hike, and I can fully confirm that they were correct. Strangers, complete strangers, have gone out of their way to support us hikers, often times without even making an appearance. Support is too insignificant a word, but it will have to do. Thank you Randy, Cathy and Bandit, not just for your generosity, but also for teaching us how to be outstanding humans.

California, Oh How I Love You!

I feel like I'm home, even if home has been a big city most my life. The oak trees and rattlesnakes are comforting... reminds me of the grandparents old getaway in Rescue, CA. And then there's the high desert hiking... scorching hot days followed up by crystal clear freezing nights. Yes! This is the California I love so much! 

Burney Falls was my next stop... I knew it would be difficult, but jeeze louise, my emotions were in full swing. You see, when I first moved back to the states from Colombia in 2011, mom, step-mom, beautiful sister and Mr. Gibbs (the German Shepard) went on our first and only family road trip. Burney Falls was the last stop. Mom was too ill and fatigued to walk much, but she still slowly made it around the loop. Laura pointed out the sign to me: Pacific Crest Trail -> 0.2 miles. She reminded me that I would be here again one day. It was such a distant thought back then. Here I was, some three years later, making that dream come true. So many feelings rushed through me: grief, sorrow, joy, accomplishment, pride, disbelief. Sometimes I have a hard time realizing that I'm actually here, hiking across country alone. It feels good having this grand goal and slowly make it a reality. But it's difficult, too. A good kind of struggle. The best kind of struggle. People often ask why I decided to hike southbound and my reply has always been, I'm looking for solitude and struggle. Two beautiful things I have, indeed.

I miss you, Momma, more now than ever. But I'm ok. Stronger than I've ever been. I know you would be proud.

The family Christmas card

Da Bears Are Back

Dad was right when he told me that there might be more wildlife pushed on trail from the drought and fire zones. In just two days I saw countless dear and FOUR bears! I was so happy to meet up with some more SOBOs, too. Suddenly, we ran into a momma bear and her two cubs. The little babies shimmied up the closest tree (how successful is bear baggin anyway?) and big momma rushed ahead down the trail to the left. We all know that you don't ever want to cross a mom and her cubs, so we backtracked a good distance and waited 20 minutes to let them handle their business. 

I was much slower than these hikers and camped behind. The next night, I watched the most beautiful sunset and thought of my own mom. I set out my bag to sleep under the stars, when I heard some rustling in the bushes. I swear when I say, 40 feet ahead on the trail, a teenage bear popped out and stared me straight in the eye. He ran ahead too quick for me to snap a photo, and left me wondering about my safety. What are you supposed to do? Pack up and move ahead a few miles? I was too tired for that, so I just talked to myself loudly until I fell asleep, using my food bag as a pillow. I'm sure the smell of cold mashed potatoes did nothing to attract him back.

Track marks!