Rolling in the Dirt
No, this is not a Weird Al Yankovic version of Adele’s Rolling in the Deep. But, I needed an on-point musical title to follow the last post. And rolling in the dirt seemed right because, wow, it really looks like I’ve been rolling in the dirt. Everyone on trail is dirty, but the dirt seems to cling to me in a special way. As I write this, I’m currently (kind of) clean, after reaching the town of Idyllwild, right off mile 179 of the PCT. When I say kind of clean, this is what I mean: I still have dirt in certain grooves on my hands despite multiple washings and I am currently wearing sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt I found in a hiker box (a box where hikers give away stuff they don’t want or don’t need… there are boxes in each town along the PCT). These free rental clothes are cleaner than anything I currently own. Pure hiker trash as they say. As I was luxuriating after my shower in my newfound clothes, I finally got to use a real washing machine! Unfortunately, despite not one, but TWO washings, I don’t believe my previously blue but now brown shirt will ever go back to being blue. Here’s a photo from a few days ago, although I don’t think even the latest iPhone can capture the dirt. The shirt has only gotten dirtier since this photo was taken.
The dirt was worth it.
I’ve traveled about 100 miles since my last update. Well, actually 102, but who’s counting? I am! A lot has happened since then, including passing the 100-mile mark, which seems like an important arbitrary accomplishment. Today is also my two-week anniversary since starting the PCT on April 18.
Pro tip: you get dirtier trying to take a selfie at the 100-mile mark in the dirt. Take a look at that left hand placement.
Soon after the hundred-mile mark, I entered Warner Springs, where I walked across long stretches of meadows. I walked in the meadows mostly on my own. It was peaceful and all I could hear was the rustling of the tall grass in the wind. Because it was mostly flat, even terrain, I could actually form coherent thoughts in my head, rather than trying to find ways to distract myself from whatever body part or parts were currently ailing me or ensuring I wasn’t going to step off a cliff. The sun was shining and I just kept taking in this great expanse that I had all to myself. At some point in the meadows, Microbear (the trail name of another hiker) took this photo of me walking. For all those wondering, this was not an Instagram version of a candid photo. No posing involved and I had no idea he took it at the time. Don’t worry, there are plenty of fake candids of me.
Deep thoughts around mile 105.
This meadow went on for a while, but right in the middle was this gigantic rock known as Eagle Rock because, surprise, it looks like a massive eagle.
Eagle Rock, mile 106.2.
Around this same time, I started to develop a little community of hikers I hike and camp with each day. I’ve also started to be friendly with and recognize the hikers that I see at various points along the way. The people I have met on the trail have made all the difference. There are times you are alone on the trail, but there is a shared sense of purpose that connects us, so when we see one another, it’s like a little reunion. Each person you meet has stepped the same steps you’ve stepped for each mile of the trail. For that reason, only they can understand what it took to take that first step and the next one and the next one. To mentally and physically press on. We all also know how fortunate we are that we can do this, even if it took a lot to get here. We all have the means, health, and support to take this on. We know how special it is and we savor all of it—the freedom, the people, and the amazing views that change each day. This shared community leads to nights like the one pictured below, at mile 119.6, where we ate together, stretched together, laughed together, discussed our ailing feet together, and took in this awesome sunset together.
Soon thereafter, I started to settle into a good routine with my tramily, which consists of Mermaid, Big Spoon, Squeezy, Star Camel, and Amnesia. I have a temporary trail name but I’m not sure if it’s the right one yet. (I’ll let you know what it is if it sticks.) We were averaging about 15-mile days, and, while difficult, we were feeling good. The nights were calm, the miles were coming along, and the scenery was unreal. Each day was hard physically, mostly because my feet are always aching, but mentally, I was locked in. The days were the same but different. I wake up around 5:30-6, boil some water to make my coffee (a huge luxury), and drink it while doing whatever I can to pack up my things while still in my down quilt (basically a sleeping bag). It is cold when the sun is not up! Eventually I do need to get out of my temporary bed so we can get hiking. We try to leave around 7-8ish so we can get some miles in before the midday sun begins to beat down on us. (Shockingly, I’m frequently the last one ready, but I’m working on becoming a morning person.) And then we walk. And then we set up camp, hopefully in a place sheltered from the wind, flat, and near water. We go to bed usually by 8pm, and repeat it the next day. Despite this routine, each day is its own adventure, with new sights to see, new challenges to face, and new memories to create. The view below of the city lights is Palm Springs, which we could see from our campsite at about mile 162.
On April 28, we hiked to mile 149, only three short miles to Paradise Valley Cafe, a popular hiker spot because it’s only 1 mile off the trail and has a great burger. They are only open from 8-3 so you have to time it right! We got up to make it there by around 8, where we got an amazing breakfast and I ran into a ton of hikers I had seen along the way, including Illy, with whom I shared a tent at mile 52. I was so excited that we were back on the same schedule. We ate our breakfast, but we all also wanted a burger. So we hung out there until they start serving lunch at 11, charging our electronics and chatting. This was a first for me. Ordering breakfast, not leaving, and then ordering lunch. But it was worth it. I couldn’t finish the burger, but it made for a delicious dinner that night. I also ordered a muffin, quesadilla, and breakfast burrito to go for the next two days of meals. It seemed absurd at the time, but it was a great decision, as the next two days got tough. Really tough.
Creative charging of my devices at Paradise Valley Cafe. Was not precarious at all.
The refuel at Paradise Valley was necessary because we were about to climb a lot, quick. Beginning midday (worst time) and on super full stomachs, we hiked from mile 152 to 162. There were huge climbs and I was exhausted. Even more problematic was the water. The only campsite near water was a mile off trail. This may not seem like a lot, but it feels endless, particularly when it’s steep downhill and you know you’ll have to climb it in the morning. We made the decision to do it because the next water source was not for 8 miles and after a 1000-foot descent and ascent.
April 30 got even more challenging. We hiked the mile out of our campsite and started our 7 mile journey to the next water source at mile 169.2. The descent was not terrible, but the ascent up to over 7,300 feet was grueling. But we made it, only to have to go down 0.65 of a mile off trail again to water. Water with floating things in it. Water that had a weird smell. But it was water and filters work wonders. After climbing back up the steep 0.65, we still needed to get to mile 176.5, as we wanted to be close to Idyllwild and it was the only decent campsite. Okay, seven miles. But seven miles to over 8,300 feet of elevation with sheer cliff drops and huge trees that had been blown over in the wind and fell in the middle of the trail, requiring us to either climb over or under them. It was along this part of the trail that a person died in 2019 because he slipped on ice and didn’t have spikes on. (There was little to no snow now.) I was exhausted and a bit on edge. While the physical part was challenging, it was taking every ounce of my mental strength to focus to avoid doing something idiotic that could have very bad (or even moderately bad) consequences. There were three saving graces: the ridiculous views, knowing I’d be in Idyllwild the next day, and my new friends.
We finally made it to camp right before sunset. Camp was at 8,300 feet and the winds were howling. I was on the hunt for a protected place for my tent. I couldn’t find a great spot and the sun was setting fast. I finally found a spot surrounded by huge logs and not near any nearly dead, but still standing trees (aka widow makers). I figured at least I’d be protected from the wind laying down. I set up my tent in haste. I was nervous because the ground was soft there and the stakes weren’t secure, even with huge rocks on top of them. But, I was exhausted, starving, and cold. I made my dinner and bunkered down. The winds were rocking the tent. Throughout the night, I restaked the tent at least 4-5 times. Finally, at about 4:30am, I gave up. The two stakes that held up the poles came out at the same time. I decided to turn my tent into a makeshift bivy sack and be done with it. Throughout all of this, I never once questioned my decision to be here. My only thought was: it could have been worse. It could have been raining. I was so thankful it wasn’t raining. Water, life and death in one substance.
Me, sitting up in my collapsed tent at about 6:30 am on May 1. It was a sad sight.
We finally made it to Idyllwild around 10:30 am on May 1. Yay! Shower, bed, and restaurant food! We caught a hitch from the trail in the back of a pickup truck and rode into town just in time for lunch.
Idyllwild was amazing. We showered, slept in real beds, ate great food, and resupplied our food. We also met the mayor of Idyllwild, Mayor Max. Fun fact: Idyllwild has had more romantic comedies filmed in it than any town in a America.
Mayor Max!
Resupply! (I made at least 4 trips to the Post Office.)
Margaritas were necessary.
Alright, it’s way past my bedtime. My apologies for any typos, but I have an early and big day tomorrow. Although it’s not technically on the PCT, I am going to try to summit San Jacinto tomorrow, which sits at nearly 11,000 feet. But the beauty is, if I’m not feeling it, I can skip it! ‘Til next time… ❤️