A Hard Day’s Night
Since the last update, I’ve walked from mile 369.3, to mile 566.5 (May 18-May 28), with no full day off. It was a difficult, long stretch, hence the post title. I will warn you: this is going to be the post with the least wit and detail and the most obvious exhaustion. We are all ready to be done with the desert. The blogs, books, and YouTube videos don’t tell you about the seemingly endless desert climbs, the wind (the wind farms should have tipped me off), the oppressive heat, the long water carries, and the parts of the trail that snake you up and down a shrub-dotted mountain when you could have just as easily gone around it. I get it, it’s supposed to be scenic, but when your body is giving you everything it’s got, the only thing worse than a non-PCT mile is a pointless up-and-down, or a PUD. But, I did pass the 500-mile mark, which felt like a significant accomplishment, particularly given how hard this section was. I considered naming this post after the song by the Proclaimers, with the lyrics “I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more.” But, it seemed a bit like a cliche and I’ve now walked 566 miles. Mile 500 seems like decades ago and it’s been a hard day’s night. Nevertheless, each milestone requires multiple poses to be shared:
On May 18, we left Wrightwood after having a glorious time in town (I love town days.). Our first task out of town: summiting Mount Baden-Powell, which sits at 9,604 feet. Despite the town day (town days require many tasks!), I was feeling tired and my legs felt heavy up the big climb. But, given my brain has told my body it doesn’t get a say in what’s happening, I made it to the summit. It was spectacular and it also required multiple poses.
On the way down from the summit and close to our camp, nearing sunset.
The next few days felt like a blur. We were transitioning from the “high” desert to the “low” desert. These days on the blog are sparse because I took very few notes and even fewer pictures. I think I was a bit too tired and I had seen a few too many shrubs. But, on May 19, we passed the 400-mile mark, which is now yesterday’s news. However, I got in a good pose, so I thought I’d share.
The next couple of days felt uneventful, but challenging. We started upping our mileage to about 20 miles a day. 20 miles started feeling like the old 15. Difficult and tiring, but we could now do it. Thankfully, our friend, Big Spoon, who had to get off trail for a few weeks due to injury (he’s coming back soon!), provided some awesome trail magic to break up the long, hot days. Nothing is better than getting some shade, a cold beverage, and some fruit. Rather than going home for a few weeks to rest, Big Spoon has supplied our group water caches, rides in town, and food along the way as a way to stay involved as he heals. We couldn’t thank him enough, as it’s been a huge boost as we’ve roamed the desert.
After countless PUDs, we made it to Acton, CA on May 21. Acton is right off mile 444 of the PCT, and the RV park is a popular place to stop for the night, mostly because it’s right off the PCT. For $17 you can camp, for $5 you can shower, for $5 you can wash your clothes, and for $5 you can get your package. The spotty Wi-Fi is free, only because the password spreads faster than gossip. Otherwise, it’s also $5. This place must only stay in business because I’m pretty sure hotels don’t exist in Acton, CA. But thankfully, the 49er Saloon does exist, and we celebrated Illy’s birthday with a great meal, complete with Rocky Mountain Oysters.
Going over a mountain rather than around it, on our way to Acton.
We left Acton the next afternoon, because none of us wanted to wake up early and the onslaught of the midday heat gave us a good excuse to chill at the RV park with the other hikers. At about five miles in that day, on a break, I was chatting with Illy and Renee about how we were ready to be done with the exposed climbs with the sun beating on our backs. Perhaps new scenery could trick our feet into not hurting. Our friend, Caveman, walked by, listened to our discontent and told us that we were experiencing hedonistic adaptation, a phenomenon of reverting to one’s previous levels of happiness once the novelty wears off. But, I think the trail sensed our hedonistic ennui, upped its game, and, a few miles later, we reached the Vasquez Rocks (all Star Trek fans will know them) at Golden Hour. I put on some tunes and danced my way through those majestic rocks, only to arrive at one of my favorite campsites of the trail.
The next few days were long and hot. All of us were spent. Every part of our bodies hurt and the hot sun was taking its toll on us. At about mile 454, the trail weaves directly through the town of Agua Dulce. It’s unclear how this town got its name because I don’t think there’s any natural water, let alone sweet water. After getting breakfast at one of the two spots in town, I put in some big miles despite the heat. I was feeling strong and I wanted to just get in some miles after taking a “nero” the previous day. I camped a few miles ahead of my friends. It was my first time camping alone. Although it looked like a beautiful site, it was my first encounter with mice on the trail. They squealed throughout the night running around my tent. Who knew mice were so loud. I didn’t sleep a wink.
May 23, climbing up the mountain from Agua Dulce. One of maybe five photos I took this day.
The next couple of days were hot and we had to get in a certain amount of miles to make it to Hikertown, USA, at mile 517, by late morning Thursday, May 26. I have no pictures from these days, until I reached Hikertown. I was just hiking, sweating, and swatting flies. (Yes, bugs turned up in droves here for the first time, just to make things even more fun!) At this point, we were regularly doing 20-mile days and I really started to feel my body and brain separate. My body now feels like a machine, rather than a living thing. Sometimes it’s well-oiled and just runs (well, walks and hobbles after sitting for a bit). The gears work properly and propels me up mountains. Other days, it feels rusty, overused, and abused. Muscles I didn’t know exist hurt. My feet are still in shock by how much they must do for me each day. I haven’t slept more than a couple hours each night but somehow my eyes stay open and I hike again, and again, and again. I tend to my legs and feet like a machine (well, I do my best with tiger balm, a cork ball, and the occasional prescription-size dose of ibuprofen), to keep them running and not fail me. Each day I’m amazed and thankful that my body machine is still going. Somehow, it still has enough gas and the parts still work.
On May 26, we reached Hikertown, which is one of the weirdest places I’ve ever been. It’s a fake town, complete with a fake saloon, fake sheriff, fake casino, fake bank, and fake store. The fake town is a place for hikers to rest before they take on the 20-mile waterless stretch of the LA Aqueduct (all the water is in the aqueduct - not for hikers!). Most hikers start the LA Aqueduct walk at dusk, to avoid the shadeless, waterless stretch in the heat. Hikers take this opportunity to create a hiker rave, complete with glow-in-the-dark body paint, glow sticks, and bizarre challenges. They include the 24-challenge (you hike for 24 hours) and the zip-tie challenge (you zip tie yourself to another hiker for the length of the aqueduct, or 20 miles). After about 2 seconds of deliberation, I passed on both challenges. The photos don’t even capture how strange Hikertown was. But, it was a nice place to rest to gear up for the long night ahead.
A little before 7pm, we set off. I had already hiked 12 miles this day, so I was a little nervous about how far I could get. Plus, unlike day hiking when I can break when I want to and sometimes hike alone, I wanted to stay with the group. Thankfully, the aqueduct was novel and flat and the night hiking got my adrenaline going. As dusk turned to dark, it was a glow-stick parade of hikers walking along the aqueduct. The desert often feels like somewhere aliens might land, but I’m sure any sane person looking at us that night might wonder where we came from. But, the energy (at least for the first few hours) was palpable. Then, around 11pm, every part of me just wanted to stop. New things hurt. Everything hurt. But we really needed to make it another 3 miles. About another hour of hiking. Everyone else in my little group was tired, too. We all wanted to stop. But we had to get the miles in to get to where Big Spoon hid water for us and a flat place to sleep. Plus, we needed to make it to Tehachapi, CA, by Saturday before the post office closed. I am still amazed my feet made it. I can’t even describe how tired I was. I woke up at 5am that day (after barely sleeping) and was getting close to 25 miles. But, we made it around midnight and I hiked nearly 25 miles that day, biggest day yet. We slept under the stars, only to hike another 20 miles the next day.
On May 27 and May 28, we hiked the wind farm section of the PCT. It’s not a mystery why they put hundreds of wind mills in this place. It’s just ridiculously windy all of the time. It’s so windy it’s silly to even try to put up a tent. You often feel like you might fall off the mountain. And if you don’t hang on to it, you will lose your hat. But, at a certain point, you just laugh and know a town day in Tehachapi is only a few hours ahead. Oh how I love town days.
Once we got to town, we all took stock of what we had done. 566 miles. 566 grueling miles with bad food, bad sleep, and countless aches and pains. Yet, none of us want this trail to end.
We are almost through the desert. In about a week, we should reach the Sierra, where a new adventure awaits.