Forests are often depicted as magical places, where fairies, goblins and other crazy things. Although I can't say I've verified this, I do know that forests have a certain mystical property: they play tricks.
Thru-hikers spend much of their time thirsty because water is extremely heavy. 1 liter of water weighs 2.2lbs. 2.2 lbs ways almost as much as my cooking kit. To give you an idea of how heavy that is, I've ran into hikers with 5 lb base weights; their packs weigh 5 lbs before food and water is added. These hikers will nearly kill themselves to avoid carrying over one liter of water.
Most of my grudge against forests revolves around water. I am by no means an "ultra-lighter", as described above. I was ecstatic when I got my base weight under 30 lbs. As such, I am willing to carry extra water from time to time; generally four liters is my upper limit. Yet, I try to avoid carrying this much and generally stick with a liter unless I know a dry stretch is coming up. I am also a pioneer of the "camel strategy", which involves getting to a stream, drinking two liters and packing out one. This strategy was born out of my college days, when I would chug a liter before going out drinking, then chug a liter when I got back. My brain cells thanked me profusely. Using this strategy out here, I can generally go half a day without having to refill.
Nevertheless, there are times when I get thirsty. Damn thirsty. These are the times when the forest gets frisky. From a dry ridge I've looked down to see a shining pool of crystal cool water, only to find upon my arrival that it was just a weirdly colored rock. Verdant ravines appear more often when you are thirst, but they always turn up dry. Yet the most frustrating is the wind. I swear, the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves of a forest sounds exactly like a cool mountain stream, regardless if were talking conifers or deciduous. I've spent 10 full, thirsty minutes expecting a raging river around the next bend, only to have my hopes die along with the wind. That was the longest, most even, most sustained wind I've ever heard...
So, take this as a warning: don't get tricked by the forest! One minute it will be all beautiful, green and sunny, but as soon as you drink your last water it turns into your worst enemy.
-Bear Bait
Monday, July 30, 2007
I am Selfish
I always suspected that I might have a selfish streak running through my personality. Aside from my pronounced predisposition on account of my only-childhood, there were certain incidences throughout my life that should have tipped me off.
Ever since I was little, I've been very possessive of food. Being a fat kid, I have always been very fond of ice cream (which is coincidentally my favorite food fresh off the trail). My dad is a bit of a fat kid himself, so from time to time would coerce a bite from me. I say coerced, because I would get pissed! The only way he actually managed is because he'd bring up the ol' "there's no shortage of ice cream in the store, we can get two more if you want". I was never quite satisfied, but how does one argue with this infallible logic? Then there was the time I threw a temper tantrum when my parents made me share my nintendo with two girls, children of a dinner guest. It was infuriating watching them play Mario and dying on the easiest parts, waisting my precious lives. Finally, up until my freshman year of college I had the hardest time spending my own money. I had money, but if there was anyway I could get something for free or get my parents to pay for something, I'd do it. Sounds normal? I took it to extreme. I won't get into that though; it might get ugly.
Somehow, even having the privelage of hindsight upon all these incidences, I never caught on. I think selfishness is difficult thing to admit about oneself because it has such an extreme negative connotation. Plus, it was even more distressful that I might actually fulfill this stereotype of the only child.
About three weeks ago a hiked for a a two-day stretch with another guy named Thunder. Thunder is a big guy in his thirties. Having lost 53 lbs on the trail, I extrapolated the conclusion that Thunder used to be a fat guy in his thirties. That's beside the point though, he could still hike faster than me. Really I'm hoping he reads me calling him fat; a little motivation to keep that weight off after the trail Thunder?
Thunder is the type of guy he absorbs information like a sponge. I wasn't around him long enough to determine whether he's a genius, but I do know that his dad was certified. Suffice to say that hiking with him was a two-day history/politics/science lesson, which shocked me somewhat because I thought I knew a lot about science. Turns out Thunder is a social engineer with an engineering degree. The only thing he deferred to me was economics and that barely. The amount of detail and fact that man stores in his head is amazing. Not only this, but I quickly came to the realization that Thunder was not only smart, but wise. He'll deny it, but that's what true wisdom is, right? I spent a lot of time listening to him and as a result learned a lot.
One day Thunder and I were involved in a discussion concerning one's responsibility to society. During this discussion, he made an offhand statement, the impact of which I don't think he comprehends. He said this: "Thru-hiking is the single most selfish thing a person can do". It may seem obvious to some, but this was novel to me and I was floored. More, the implications are huge! Here I am, engaged in the most selfish of selfish activities. Furthermore, here Thunder is as well.
I am a selfish person. I am taking a year out of life to travel, learn, and have fun, all of which are geared towards my own self-enrichment. This is the ultimate selfish act, but I wouldn't have it any other way. This made me realize something about the nature of selfishness.
Selfishness is neither good or bad; it's the manifestations of this quality that flavor how it is perceived. Too often we focus on the petty aspects: unwillingness to share ice-cream or spend money, nintendo incidents (you know, things that happen to everybody). Yet, so much good results from being selfish. The key I've found is to acknowledge my own selfishness and discern the good and bad aspects of this part of me. I strive to encourage the good and suppress the bad. Simple right? We'll see about that...
So, I am a selfish person. That wasn't so hard, I guess. Just don't try to take my ice cream. I'm not ready for that step yet.
-Bear Bait
Ever since I was little, I've been very possessive of food. Being a fat kid, I have always been very fond of ice cream (which is coincidentally my favorite food fresh off the trail). My dad is a bit of a fat kid himself, so from time to time would coerce a bite from me. I say coerced, because I would get pissed! The only way he actually managed is because he'd bring up the ol' "there's no shortage of ice cream in the store, we can get two more if you want". I was never quite satisfied, but how does one argue with this infallible logic? Then there was the time I threw a temper tantrum when my parents made me share my nintendo with two girls, children of a dinner guest. It was infuriating watching them play Mario and dying on the easiest parts, waisting my precious lives. Finally, up until my freshman year of college I had the hardest time spending my own money. I had money, but if there was anyway I could get something for free or get my parents to pay for something, I'd do it. Sounds normal? I took it to extreme. I won't get into that though; it might get ugly.
Somehow, even having the privelage of hindsight upon all these incidences, I never caught on. I think selfishness is difficult thing to admit about oneself because it has such an extreme negative connotation. Plus, it was even more distressful that I might actually fulfill this stereotype of the only child.
About three weeks ago a hiked for a a two-day stretch with another guy named Thunder. Thunder is a big guy in his thirties. Having lost 53 lbs on the trail, I extrapolated the conclusion that Thunder used to be a fat guy in his thirties. That's beside the point though, he could still hike faster than me. Really I'm hoping he reads me calling him fat; a little motivation to keep that weight off after the trail Thunder?
Thunder is the type of guy he absorbs information like a sponge. I wasn't around him long enough to determine whether he's a genius, but I do know that his dad was certified. Suffice to say that hiking with him was a two-day history/politics/science lesson, which shocked me somewhat because I thought I knew a lot about science. Turns out Thunder is a social engineer with an engineering degree. The only thing he deferred to me was economics and that barely. The amount of detail and fact that man stores in his head is amazing. Not only this, but I quickly came to the realization that Thunder was not only smart, but wise. He'll deny it, but that's what true wisdom is, right? I spent a lot of time listening to him and as a result learned a lot.
One day Thunder and I were involved in a discussion concerning one's responsibility to society. During this discussion, he made an offhand statement, the impact of which I don't think he comprehends. He said this: "Thru-hiking is the single most selfish thing a person can do". It may seem obvious to some, but this was novel to me and I was floored. More, the implications are huge! Here I am, engaged in the most selfish of selfish activities. Furthermore, here Thunder is as well.
I am a selfish person. I am taking a year out of life to travel, learn, and have fun, all of which are geared towards my own self-enrichment. This is the ultimate selfish act, but I wouldn't have it any other way. This made me realize something about the nature of selfishness.
Selfishness is neither good or bad; it's the manifestations of this quality that flavor how it is perceived. Too often we focus on the petty aspects: unwillingness to share ice-cream or spend money, nintendo incidents (you know, things that happen to everybody). Yet, so much good results from being selfish. The key I've found is to acknowledge my own selfishness and discern the good and bad aspects of this part of me. I strive to encourage the good and suppress the bad. Simple right? We'll see about that...
So, I am a selfish person. That wasn't so hard, I guess. Just don't try to take my ice cream. I'm not ready for that step yet.
-Bear Bait
How I Got Hooked Up
Seeing as how a large part of my trip has now turned into a 7-day volunteer cooking, music-listening, festival-going extravaganza, I thought I owed you all an explanation as to how I got so lucky as to stumble across this opportunity. So here we go.
I think I told you before about my desperate push to make dinner at the Heitmans' (the trail angels in Old Station), so that's where I'll start. I got in to their place and immediately set upon the food like a starving lion on a zebra carcass. Really, I got comments. The food was basic; sloppy Joes, simple salad, lasagna and burgers, but these things are such amazing luxuries when you get out of the mountains.
Through my amazing eating prowess I managed to impress the cook, who's name is Wolfman. It turns out that Georgi, the trail angel host, was out of town for awhile. Instead of closing down her house, as any sane person would, she enlisted the help of Wolfman and another hiker, Girl Scout, to manage the trail-angeling duties in her absence. Believe me, this is no small task, as it consists of preparing 2 meals a day, operating a full-time shuttle service, and 20 or more hikers overrunning your house. I have no idea how these people do it, but I am eternally grateful.
I got into a conversation with Wolfman about trail angeling. I jested, saying that maybe I'd stay here for a week. He sort of leered at me, exclaiming: "you better be ready to cook". Little did he know I love cooking and instantly agreed to help him the next morning.
In the morning I woke up in a panic. I had slept in heavily, the sun was well out and I figured everyone had cooked and eaten already. I wandered over to the kitchen area, and to my relief nothing had started yet. I guess it was one of those mornings. I sat around awhile while I waited for french toast duty. Another hiker, Mr. Parquay, sleepily wandered over and plopped down next to me. I teased him about getting up so late, and he protested: "What? It can't be past like 6:30!". A wristwatch immediately appeared from my other side, reading in large numbers: 7:45. It really was one of those mornings. Let's just say Mr. Parquay didn't make it back to the trail that day.
I cooked the french toast, served them, and ate half of them myself. Wolfman was happy though, as a realization of the true difficulty of trail angeling dawned on him. I got to talking to him, and he brought up the idea of volunteering at Reggae Rising (formerly Reggae on the River). I mentioned it before, but it involves being off the trail for about a week, so I was immediately reluctant. After all, didn't I have a schedule to keep?
Then I came to my senses. What was I thinking, passing up a wonderful opportunity that fate had offered me on a platter? What kind of a journey goes in a straight line, directly to its destination? A crappy kind, I elegantly answered my own internal monologue. Before leaving the Heitmans', I told Wolfman "I'm doing it, see you in Seiad Valley, 3:00 pm on the 2nd." Looks like I might even make it, as long as I don't sleep in tomorrow.
I took a lesson from this experience, and you should too. First of all, learn how to cook, it will get you places. Second, never get so locked into you immediate goal that you become blind to the opportunities presented you. You never know what you can find if you just avoid getting tunnel vision.
Bear Bait
I think I told you before about my desperate push to make dinner at the Heitmans' (the trail angels in Old Station), so that's where I'll start. I got in to their place and immediately set upon the food like a starving lion on a zebra carcass. Really, I got comments. The food was basic; sloppy Joes, simple salad, lasagna and burgers, but these things are such amazing luxuries when you get out of the mountains.
Through my amazing eating prowess I managed to impress the cook, who's name is Wolfman. It turns out that Georgi, the trail angel host, was out of town for awhile. Instead of closing down her house, as any sane person would, she enlisted the help of Wolfman and another hiker, Girl Scout, to manage the trail-angeling duties in her absence. Believe me, this is no small task, as it consists of preparing 2 meals a day, operating a full-time shuttle service, and 20 or more hikers overrunning your house. I have no idea how these people do it, but I am eternally grateful.
I got into a conversation with Wolfman about trail angeling. I jested, saying that maybe I'd stay here for a week. He sort of leered at me, exclaiming: "you better be ready to cook". Little did he know I love cooking and instantly agreed to help him the next morning.
In the morning I woke up in a panic. I had slept in heavily, the sun was well out and I figured everyone had cooked and eaten already. I wandered over to the kitchen area, and to my relief nothing had started yet. I guess it was one of those mornings. I sat around awhile while I waited for french toast duty. Another hiker, Mr. Parquay, sleepily wandered over and plopped down next to me. I teased him about getting up so late, and he protested: "What? It can't be past like 6:30!". A wristwatch immediately appeared from my other side, reading in large numbers: 7:45. It really was one of those mornings. Let's just say Mr. Parquay didn't make it back to the trail that day.
I cooked the french toast, served them, and ate half of them myself. Wolfman was happy though, as a realization of the true difficulty of trail angeling dawned on him. I got to talking to him, and he brought up the idea of volunteering at Reggae Rising (formerly Reggae on the River). I mentioned it before, but it involves being off the trail for about a week, so I was immediately reluctant. After all, didn't I have a schedule to keep?
Then I came to my senses. What was I thinking, passing up a wonderful opportunity that fate had offered me on a platter? What kind of a journey goes in a straight line, directly to its destination? A crappy kind, I elegantly answered my own internal monologue. Before leaving the Heitmans', I told Wolfman "I'm doing it, see you in Seiad Valley, 3:00 pm on the 2nd." Looks like I might even make it, as long as I don't sleep in tomorrow.
I took a lesson from this experience, and you should too. First of all, learn how to cook, it will get you places. Second, never get so locked into you immediate goal that you become blind to the opportunities presented you. You never know what you can find if you just avoid getting tunnel vision.
Bear Bait
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Ever-Shifting Schedule and Side Adventure
So, for those of you following along, it has become pretty evident that I am ahead of schedule. In fact, my schedule that I posted is defunct, as I have decided to scrap it completely in favor of a side adventure. Here is a general outline of the new one:
Get to Etna Summit, about 50 miles South of Seiad Valley by August 2nd.
Take 7 days off the trail to volunteer at Reggae on the River.
Resume schedule at Etna Summit on the morning of August 10th.
Seiad Valley by the 11th
Ashland by the 14th, one day layover in Ashland.
Diamond Lake by 21st
Home by the 30th
Right now I am in Old Station and plan to reach McArthur Burney by July 23rd. From there, I will be averaging about 25 miles a day.
Get to Etna Summit, about 50 miles South of Seiad Valley by August 2nd.
Take 7 days off the trail to volunteer at Reggae on the River.
Resume schedule at Etna Summit on the morning of August 10th.
Seiad Valley by the 11th
Ashland by the 14th, one day layover in Ashland.
Diamond Lake by 21st
Home by the 30th
Right now I am in Old Station and plan to reach McArthur Burney by July 23rd. From there, I will be averaging about 25 miles a day.
Forests vs. N Forests
If there's one thing I've learned on this trip, and there is, its the difference between forests and National Forests. Forests are living ecosystems, filled with multiple species of plant critter, insect, fungus, everything else. You can see it in the differently-sized trees, you can see it in the health of the loam and the plants covering the ground.
I've walked through a lot of national forests, and they are not forests. Plenty of trees, but all of one species, one age and trimmed and spaced to identicality (not a word, but you get it). They creep me out, walking through rows upon rows of trees without character, a whole environment without any definable features. This is agriculture, a tree farm, and never has the difference between a forest and a tree farm struck me across the face so blatantly. Hiking through a national forest, you are struck by how devoid of beauty this treed area is.
I don't write this to rail against National Forests. They are absolutely vital to our way of life in the US. We use wood for paper, houses and countless other vital products. I write this to ward you against optimistic statements such as: the US is 20% more forested that it was 15 years ago! I've heard statements to this end before (although my numbers are made up) and have been encouraged by them. However, to truly evaluate the situation, you need to look past the "forested" lands and examine how much of our healthy forests with functioning ecosystems survives today. I'd wager that number is a lot lower than the former.
I've walked through a lot of national forests, and they are not forests. Plenty of trees, but all of one species, one age and trimmed and spaced to identicality (not a word, but you get it). They creep me out, walking through rows upon rows of trees without character, a whole environment without any definable features. This is agriculture, a tree farm, and never has the difference between a forest and a tree farm struck me across the face so blatantly. Hiking through a national forest, you are struck by how devoid of beauty this treed area is.
I don't write this to rail against National Forests. They are absolutely vital to our way of life in the US. We use wood for paper, houses and countless other vital products. I write this to ward you against optimistic statements such as: the US is 20% more forested that it was 15 years ago! I've heard statements to this end before (although my numbers are made up) and have been encouraged by them. However, to truly evaluate the situation, you need to look past the "forested" lands and examine how much of our healthy forests with functioning ecosystems survives today. I'd wager that number is a lot lower than the former.
An Enlightening Experience
Hiking is extremely routine-oriented: you wake up when it gets light, pack your stuff, eat something, hike for three hours, eat something, hike for three hours, eat something, hike for three hours, rest, eat something, hike for three hours, cook, pitch tent, sleep. Give or take, this is my day. You might think this would make for a rather monotonous lifestyle, doesn't it get boring? Well, yes, sometimes, but there's also a lot of action going on upstairs. Something that I've remarked on before and that any thru hiker will tell you is that your brain is so much louder and communicative when you quiet the rest of your life. Hiking gives you time for for introspection, a look at your soul.
It also makes it that much more obvious, and delightful (or depressing), when something extraordinary happens. The last three days of hiking have been pretty extraordinary, so I thought I would relate some of my most recent experiences.
Three days ago I set out from Belden. (For those of you following my schedule, I am somewhat ahaid of schedule. In fact, my schedule is pretty screwed, as I'll explain later). It was raining, but I decided it was time to start hiking regardless. The nice trail angels I was staying with seemde to think the storm would be short, so I wasn't too worried. This was my first real rain of the trip. So I hiked.
About 8 miles in, I ran into another hiker I knew, Rumble. She had camped in the hills the night before, gotten her stuff soaked and come back down because she was scared of hypothermia. Fair enough, it made me nervous, but my stuff was dry and I was still in good spirits. So I hiked.
This is when I started getting cold. As it turns out, the poncho I was using as raingear was semi-waterproof. Well, that's too bad. My stuff was still dry, but I was soaked. I noticed I was peeing an exceptional number of times, despite not having drank anything that day. I was soaked for so long that I was absorbing rain through my skin in mass quantities. I didn't know you could do that, I guess hiking does teach you something! I considered pitching my tenet and waiting out the storm in my sleeping bag. Nah, to keep going was the only way to keep warm. So I hiked.
I started to wonder if the rain would ever stopped. I started yelling at the clouds to go away. At one point I did a sun dance. It must have worked, because around 3:00 PM I saw my shadow. I've never been so happy for a little sunchine. As the steam rose of the meadows around me, I found a log to sit on and enjoy the sun. It was still drizzling, and a little windy, but it didn't matter because that extraordinary matter/wave called sunlight was raining down on me for the first time in 18 hours. I was content.
I kept hiking for the rest of the day, although I felt somewhat weak from trudging through the storm. I made camp on a mountain summit, with a beautiful view of the sunset and the cloud formations, not so long ago a menacing threat, now broken and swirling in intricate patterns.
This being a trip of ups and downs, it got really cold that night. SO cold that everything frosted over. It didn't rain, which was great, but it sure looked like it did when I woke up because my rain fly was soaked through from the melted frost and condensation. I spent an extra long time packing up that morning, rotating between rolling up the fly and sticking my hands in my armpits and down my pants for warmth. Leaving my sleeping bag for the below zero wet environment that morning was one of the hardest things I've done on this trip so far.
As you might have predicted, the rest of that day I ate something, hiked for three hours, ate something, hiked for three hours, ate something, hiked for three hours, rested, ate something, hiked for three hours, cooked, pitched my tent, and went to sleep.
Day 3 from Belden. Something in my head decided I needed a challenge. I knew of a Trail Angel about 33 miles hike from where I was camped, an intimidating distance. I decided to go for it, although the food might have also been a motivating factor. So I hiked, this time hard. I was sweating all through the morning, despite the cold weather.
About 10 I came across an establishment in the middle of Lassen National Forest. It was called Drakesbad Ranch, and I had heard about them from some other hikers. At this point I was damn thirsty and decided to go get some water. As soon as I scoped the kitchen, this turned into a yearning for food. I rationalized: I'm not sure I can do 33 miles on pack food, better tank up here. It worked, and I quickly headed for the restaurant.
It turns out they weren't open for meals at the time, but thankfully they're also extremely hiker-friendly. When I explained my dilemma, that I was in a hurry, this guy named Ed came out, tried to convinced me to stay for lunch, realized I couldn't, then proceeded to reopen the kitchen for some scrambled eggs and ham. What followed was extraordinary.
I was served an entire spread, including a glass of orange juice, fresh fruit, coffee, the biggest plate of scrambled eggs and ham" two random onlookers had ever seen, and a half loaf of fresh baked bread. I was floored, as I paused in between oversized bites to truly comprehend what had just happened. I polished it all off, pretty quickly to my credit, and asked Ed what I owed him for this feast. I was already clutching unconsciously at my cash bag, worried that I had just incurred a big unforseen expense. This was a very nice place, after all. Ed quickly returned with a bill, that had a simple "5" written on it. He had charged $5 dollars for what was justifiably a $15-20 spread, and that 5 was clearly a triviality. He then proceeded to pack me out with more fresh fruit and pointed me to a shortcut back to the PCT, saving me a couple miles of walking (although I did have to climb a hill, ouch).
As an addendum, I have to mention that Ed was not the only one being amazing, he was just the guy in charge. I talked to at least 3 other people there, including one women from Lithuania who waited on me 1/2 time (brought me the bread), and they were all the most gracious and wonderful people. What a high to be treated like that by complete strangers! If you ever have the chance, I encourage you to visit Drakesbad (especially if your hiking), its a wonderful wonderful place.
After giving the hot baths and a scrapping of original plan some serious consideration, I set off down the shortcut. I hiked until I was tired, stopped to snack on some Gu that Sam Meehan sent me in Sierra City (that stuff rocks) and started hiking more. At some point during the afternoon, I had an epiphany, one of those rare hiking moments in which you realize something so utterly simple that it sounds idiotic when you right it down, yet so profoundly affects your soul. To risk sounding idiotic, here is what I realized: I am hiking a thousand miles on the PCT, just graduated from college, going to China and then to Latin America. My life is absolutely blessed; in that moment I learned to acknowledge and thank whatever god/ law of science/ person/ other put me in that moment at that time at that place. It was feeling of pure gratitude for the conditions that had shaped my life and made me who I was. It was bliss.
I won't say anymore, because as I said its not something that can be communicated through words. It just was. The actual experience lasted for about 30 minutes of hiking, but it has changed me irrevocably. I can still feel it, not as I did before, but its there and always will be.
Unfortunately, I couldn't just be transported to dinner at the Trail Angel's so that I could reflect upon this experience over a nice hot meal. The rest of the hike was dry, hot and my body was exhausted. I made it though, and just in time for dinner. Yet another piece to be grateful for.
Bear Bait
It also makes it that much more obvious, and delightful (or depressing), when something extraordinary happens. The last three days of hiking have been pretty extraordinary, so I thought I would relate some of my most recent experiences.
Three days ago I set out from Belden. (For those of you following my schedule, I am somewhat ahaid of schedule. In fact, my schedule is pretty screwed, as I'll explain later). It was raining, but I decided it was time to start hiking regardless. The nice trail angels I was staying with seemde to think the storm would be short, so I wasn't too worried. This was my first real rain of the trip. So I hiked.
About 8 miles in, I ran into another hiker I knew, Rumble. She had camped in the hills the night before, gotten her stuff soaked and come back down because she was scared of hypothermia. Fair enough, it made me nervous, but my stuff was dry and I was still in good spirits. So I hiked.
This is when I started getting cold. As it turns out, the poncho I was using as raingear was semi-waterproof. Well, that's too bad. My stuff was still dry, but I was soaked. I noticed I was peeing an exceptional number of times, despite not having drank anything that day. I was soaked for so long that I was absorbing rain through my skin in mass quantities. I didn't know you could do that, I guess hiking does teach you something! I considered pitching my tenet and waiting out the storm in my sleeping bag. Nah, to keep going was the only way to keep warm. So I hiked.
I started to wonder if the rain would ever stopped. I started yelling at the clouds to go away. At one point I did a sun dance. It must have worked, because around 3:00 PM I saw my shadow. I've never been so happy for a little sunchine. As the steam rose of the meadows around me, I found a log to sit on and enjoy the sun. It was still drizzling, and a little windy, but it didn't matter because that extraordinary matter/wave called sunlight was raining down on me for the first time in 18 hours. I was content.
I kept hiking for the rest of the day, although I felt somewhat weak from trudging through the storm. I made camp on a mountain summit, with a beautiful view of the sunset and the cloud formations, not so long ago a menacing threat, now broken and swirling in intricate patterns.
This being a trip of ups and downs, it got really cold that night. SO cold that everything frosted over. It didn't rain, which was great, but it sure looked like it did when I woke up because my rain fly was soaked through from the melted frost and condensation. I spent an extra long time packing up that morning, rotating between rolling up the fly and sticking my hands in my armpits and down my pants for warmth. Leaving my sleeping bag for the below zero wet environment that morning was one of the hardest things I've done on this trip so far.
As you might have predicted, the rest of that day I ate something, hiked for three hours, ate something, hiked for three hours, ate something, hiked for three hours, rested, ate something, hiked for three hours, cooked, pitched my tent, and went to sleep.
Day 3 from Belden. Something in my head decided I needed a challenge. I knew of a Trail Angel about 33 miles hike from where I was camped, an intimidating distance. I decided to go for it, although the food might have also been a motivating factor. So I hiked, this time hard. I was sweating all through the morning, despite the cold weather.
About 10 I came across an establishment in the middle of Lassen National Forest. It was called Drakesbad Ranch, and I had heard about them from some other hikers. At this point I was damn thirsty and decided to go get some water. As soon as I scoped the kitchen, this turned into a yearning for food. I rationalized: I'm not sure I can do 33 miles on pack food, better tank up here. It worked, and I quickly headed for the restaurant.
It turns out they weren't open for meals at the time, but thankfully they're also extremely hiker-friendly. When I explained my dilemma, that I was in a hurry, this guy named Ed came out, tried to convinced me to stay for lunch, realized I couldn't, then proceeded to reopen the kitchen for some scrambled eggs and ham. What followed was extraordinary.
I was served an entire spread, including a glass of orange juice, fresh fruit, coffee, the biggest plate of scrambled eggs and ham" two random onlookers had ever seen, and a half loaf of fresh baked bread. I was floored, as I paused in between oversized bites to truly comprehend what had just happened. I polished it all off, pretty quickly to my credit, and asked Ed what I owed him for this feast. I was already clutching unconsciously at my cash bag, worried that I had just incurred a big unforseen expense. This was a very nice place, after all. Ed quickly returned with a bill, that had a simple "5" written on it. He had charged $5 dollars for what was justifiably a $15-20 spread, and that 5 was clearly a triviality. He then proceeded to pack me out with more fresh fruit and pointed me to a shortcut back to the PCT, saving me a couple miles of walking (although I did have to climb a hill, ouch).
As an addendum, I have to mention that Ed was not the only one being amazing, he was just the guy in charge. I talked to at least 3 other people there, including one women from Lithuania who waited on me 1/2 time (brought me the bread), and they were all the most gracious and wonderful people. What a high to be treated like that by complete strangers! If you ever have the chance, I encourage you to visit Drakesbad (especially if your hiking), its a wonderful wonderful place.
After giving the hot baths and a scrapping of original plan some serious consideration, I set off down the shortcut. I hiked until I was tired, stopped to snack on some Gu that Sam Meehan sent me in Sierra City (that stuff rocks) and started hiking more. At some point during the afternoon, I had an epiphany, one of those rare hiking moments in which you realize something so utterly simple that it sounds idiotic when you right it down, yet so profoundly affects your soul. To risk sounding idiotic, here is what I realized: I am hiking a thousand miles on the PCT, just graduated from college, going to China and then to Latin America. My life is absolutely blessed; in that moment I learned to acknowledge and thank whatever god/ law of science/ person/ other put me in that moment at that time at that place. It was feeling of pure gratitude for the conditions that had shaped my life and made me who I was. It was bliss.
I won't say anymore, because as I said its not something that can be communicated through words. It just was. The actual experience lasted for about 30 minutes of hiking, but it has changed me irrevocably. I can still feel it, not as I did before, but its there and always will be.
Unfortunately, I couldn't just be transported to dinner at the Trail Angel's so that I could reflect upon this experience over a nice hot meal. The rest of the hike was dry, hot and my body was exhausted. I made it though, and just in time for dinner. Yet another piece to be grateful for.
Bear Bait
Friday, July 13, 2007
Getting in the Groove
So, 15 days in I'm starting feel at home out here. Don't get me wrong, I'm taking a day off in town and loving it today! Ice Cream, salads and eveything else I can possibly eat! Yet, every time I set up camp I feel more and more comfortable with the concept of just being outside, under the stars without a town or civilization to support me.
Yesterday I worked myself to exhaustion. Its been tough going out here, I was definitely ready to take a day off. I almost made it to Sierra City last night (where I am now) but stopped 3 miles short because I just couldn't go anymore. Sletp for 12 hours, woke up, came into town and had an enormous breakfast. God, food tastes great when you're hiking!
The PCT has an incredible community that surrounds it. I've already met upwards of 40 other thru hikers, most of whom have been at it since Mexico. They are incredibly accepting, even though I'm only a newbie. 2 phenomena worth mentioning: Trail Magic is hiker lingo for random acts of kindness. Every now and then, when passing a road or somewhere else accessible, someone will leave a box full of goodies. I've run across fresh organic fruit, others have gotten soda beer and all kinds of other stuff. The second and most wonderful: Trail Angels. This is the term used to describe people along the trail who house and feed thru hikers. They do this, free of charge, in addition to picking you up at the trail head. So far I am yet to stay with one, although I plan to in Belden and again in Burney. These people are incredibly kind and generally spend most of their day for six weeks during the summer shuttling hikers to an fro and buying groceries/cooking stuff. How cool!!
I'm hiking faster and faster as time goes on. I've been doing about 20-25 miles a day, which I'm pretty proud of. Part of that is my body getting into better shape. The other part is my pack getting lighter. A lot lighter. I've dropped at least 10 lbs in unnecessary gear and food, and boy does it make a difference. Just today I mailed back a bear canister, rain pants, an extra shirt, tent stakes and some other crap I don't use. You just realize you don't need that much stuff if you live simply. In that spirit, here are some tips to lightening your pack that I've picked up along the way, not all of which I've implemented but are worthy of mentioning:
Stove: Don't use one, try to eat cold if possible. Stoves take wight and so does fuel. If you have to use a stove, use an alcohol stove because they are way lighter than whisperlights.
Tene: A lot of these guys don't have a tent at all! They use their trekking poles to prop up a tarp, then put mosquito netting around it to protect from bugs. Saves about 2 lbs if you do it right.
Use gatorade bottles instead of Nalgenes
If using a stove, use dried foods. Water weighs 2.2 lbs per Liter, which is a lot. As much pasta, rice, other grains as possible.
Use foods that cook fast. You save on fuel and caniste weight
No luxuries! Brownie Mix, dehydrate milk and olive oil are all grat, but you really don't need them. Its better to pack light, go without for 5 days and then find a town and live the good life!
Don't take unnecessary gadgets. You certainly will the first time you go out, but just be prepared to send them home.
Look for redundancies in your clothing. For instance, I had a rain poncho, rain pants and a rain jacket. I got rid of the jacket and pants, as I carried them for 15 days without using them.
Don't make pancakes!!!! (Hal, this one's for you) Although they sound like a great camping idea, they are heavy in ingredients, fuel expensive and a huge hassle. Don't do it, you can resist!!!
That's about it for now. Until next time!
Bear Bait
Yesterday I worked myself to exhaustion. Its been tough going out here, I was definitely ready to take a day off. I almost made it to Sierra City last night (where I am now) but stopped 3 miles short because I just couldn't go anymore. Sletp for 12 hours, woke up, came into town and had an enormous breakfast. God, food tastes great when you're hiking!
The PCT has an incredible community that surrounds it. I've already met upwards of 40 other thru hikers, most of whom have been at it since Mexico. They are incredibly accepting, even though I'm only a newbie. 2 phenomena worth mentioning: Trail Magic is hiker lingo for random acts of kindness. Every now and then, when passing a road or somewhere else accessible, someone will leave a box full of goodies. I've run across fresh organic fruit, others have gotten soda beer and all kinds of other stuff. The second and most wonderful: Trail Angels. This is the term used to describe people along the trail who house and feed thru hikers. They do this, free of charge, in addition to picking you up at the trail head. So far I am yet to stay with one, although I plan to in Belden and again in Burney. These people are incredibly kind and generally spend most of their day for six weeks during the summer shuttling hikers to an fro and buying groceries/cooking stuff. How cool!!
I'm hiking faster and faster as time goes on. I've been doing about 20-25 miles a day, which I'm pretty proud of. Part of that is my body getting into better shape. The other part is my pack getting lighter. A lot lighter. I've dropped at least 10 lbs in unnecessary gear and food, and boy does it make a difference. Just today I mailed back a bear canister, rain pants, an extra shirt, tent stakes and some other crap I don't use. You just realize you don't need that much stuff if you live simply. In that spirit, here are some tips to lightening your pack that I've picked up along the way, not all of which I've implemented but are worthy of mentioning:
Stove: Don't use one, try to eat cold if possible. Stoves take wight and so does fuel. If you have to use a stove, use an alcohol stove because they are way lighter than whisperlights.
Tene: A lot of these guys don't have a tent at all! They use their trekking poles to prop up a tarp, then put mosquito netting around it to protect from bugs. Saves about 2 lbs if you do it right.
Use gatorade bottles instead of Nalgenes
If using a stove, use dried foods. Water weighs 2.2 lbs per Liter, which is a lot. As much pasta, rice, other grains as possible.
Use foods that cook fast. You save on fuel and caniste weight
No luxuries! Brownie Mix, dehydrate milk and olive oil are all grat, but you really don't need them. Its better to pack light, go without for 5 days and then find a town and live the good life!
Don't take unnecessary gadgets. You certainly will the first time you go out, but just be prepared to send them home.
Look for redundancies in your clothing. For instance, I had a rain poncho, rain pants and a rain jacket. I got rid of the jacket and pants, as I carried them for 15 days without using them.
Don't make pancakes!!!! (Hal, this one's for you) Although they sound like a great camping idea, they are heavy in ingredients, fuel expensive and a huge hassle. Don't do it, you can resist!!!
That's about it for now. Until next time!
Bear Bait
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Hiking is Hard!
Whew, I'm exhausted. I just hit civilization for the first time in 5 days and the surreality is astounding. I got into Bridgeport last night and I'm laying over there today. Bridgeport is a town of about 800 on hwy 395, East of the Sierras. Well known as a fisherman's mecca, Bridgeport also boasts a festive 4th of July tractor parade as well as homegrown rodeo. I'm not sure I've seen anyone not wearing either a cowboy hat or an american flag in some form, except for some fellow hikers laying over. Here's a quick summary of the last 5 days:
Day 0 (I'm calling it day 0, because we went in a day earlier than expected) 6 miles:
We made it to Toulumne Meadows around 2:30. As usual, nothing ever goes as planned. We needed a permit for my dad to accompny me through Yosemite Wilderness, and the park was pretty full. After some "grey permitting" by a very helpful park ranger who's name I will keep anonymous, we got my dad legalizzed for the hike. However, we were also informed that bear canisters are a requirement while camping in the park. I had planned to hang my food in the trees and the prospect of adding 2.5 lbs to my already over-laden backpack was not appealing, but somehow we were both convinced. I felt we owed our amazing ranger at least this graciousness for not stopping our trip dead in its tracks.
We cleared our car of everything scented (apparently bears can smell anything, inlcuding recently some lady's insulin) and finally started out on our hike around 4:30. I late start, I know, but our ambitions for this day were few. We were looking to make a 6 mile hike to a well-used campground called Glen Aulin. We managed this, but not without difficulty. About 1/2 mile in, we realized my dad forgot his permit. That was remedied by a short jog back and a frantic search of the car. This also gave my dad an opportunity to repair his backpack, which of course had already torn at the shoulder strap.
After finally getting underway for real we made the hike in fairly good time, although we came to some sobering conclusions. My pack was far too heavy and dad was going to have blister problems. Oh well, nothing we could do now. As we walked into camp, we passed a tented buffet restauraunt. Maybe the Sierras aren't as rugged as I had oringally thought...
Day 1 15.8 miles
By the time we got up, cooked breakfast and got our packs together, it was 8:30. Not exactly an early hiker's start. Still, what did you expect from someone who'd been staying up to 2 AM every night before? Tragedy struck this morning, as we managed to lose the tent bag (Predictably, I later found it in the bottom of my pack).
We saw some gorgeous sights during our hike today. My favorite was our late-afternoon visit to Miller Lake, which exploded into view just as we ended a steep climb. The lake was beautifully blue, the mosquitoes were few, and the swimming was good, although in this I did not partake because we had to move fast to make our 16 miles. Damn late start.
I ran in to 3 interesting characters today, all of whom had been hiking since Mexico. The first was Gail, who is a 60ish graduate from Scripps College, although she got her Botany degree from Pomona. She was amusingly quarky and provided great company and helpful advice for a newbie on the trail. I ran into her a couple more times along the trail. The second was a younger woman who went by the trail name "Breeze". Trail names, I would later learn, are alternate, more memorable names thru hikers use. Usually they reflect some aspect of that person's personality or embarrassing past. Breeze had some frineds join her for the stretch from Toulumne meadows, so was moving pretty slowly. More slowly, I got the impression, then she would have liked. Finally was Grimmace, who walked into our camp late in the evening, searching for his own campsite, We talked for awhile, and he decided to trun back to an earlier site. I'd see hime later on as well.
We camped about 4 miles past Miller Lake , next to a creek crossing. Dehydrated beef and maccaroni and instant potatoes never tasted so sweet! I had no arguments about going to bed early this night, as we were aiming for a little earlier start the next morning.
I'm at an internet cafe and my time's running out, so I gotta go a little faster now...
Day 2 15.8 miles
We were moving by 7AM, a large victory for a tough day ahead. Today was really tough because of the hills. Even though the mileage was about the same as the previous day, the hills killed. The highlight of the day was hot lunch on a gorgeous, bug-free beach at Lake Benson. Absolutely beautiful and a welcome refresher from the exhausting and slow-going hiking. It was here that we realized my dad's blister problems were going to be more serious than either of us had considered. When he took his boots off for lunch, they looked bad, to the point of him wanting to put his boot back on so he didn't have to look at them. The highlight was a huge blister on the top of his foot that stretched halfway to his ankle.
In the afternoon we encountered more hills and had made only 11 miles by 5PM. The next stretch was flat, so I started a quick pace of what my dad would later describe as the "death march" on the last 5 miles of the day. We were both exhausted when we got into camp.
Day 3 19 miles
With dad's blister problems so bad, we started worrying about infection. To this end, we decided to book it today. We were moving by 6:30, ate cold breakfast on the trail, and passed up some golden swiomming opporuntites. We did encounter a tough morning climb and descent, so the going was slow at times. Still, we made 19 miles by the end of the day.
We stopped to rest next to a high altitude lake nestled in between some snow-capped mountains. There we encountered a trio of thruhikers who we'd been leap froggin all day long. They took a look at dad's feet and didn't have the best reactions. "I've seen worse" is not exactly encouraging. Thus, we decided to continue on for some more mileage before camping.
I used my trail name for the first time today. I had been debating whether I really deserved one, as I was not doing the whole stretch, but after conferring with those three thruers we decided it was appropriate. I'd been doing stupid things lately like leaving wrappers in the pockets of my sleeping close, so I settled on "Bear Bait". Self- derprecating humour, alliteration, and a double-entendre.
Day 4 19 miles
With dad's left foot being held together by moleskin, new skin and gauze wrap, we decided to go for the gold: we were going to make it to Sonora Pass, the end of our trek, today. This was no easy task, as it involved a 2000 foot climb to and a short jaunt along the Sierra Crest, just below 11,000 feet. The climb was deifficult, but the views of the sorrunding mountains were more then worth it, at least for me. Dad, I think, was on another plane of existence. As he described it to me: "I just made my whole body go numbe, that's how I kept going". To his credit, he did keep going through nearly inhuman circumstances. His foot was shredded, he was exhausted, and he started suffering from altitude sickness at 10,500 feet. At lunch, I had to force him ot eat bagels with peanut butter and honey so he wouldn't collapse during the next few miles. Yet, as we finally stumbled into Sonora Pass he was the one in the lead. Somehow, I'm not really sure how, he kept going. Stubborness maybe?
We hitched a ride into Bridgeport after about 20 minutes from a nice forest service lady. There, we got a room and I ate about as much as I've ever eaten at the local bar. Pizza, salad, and Chili cheese fries. Not to mention the cold beer. AMAZING! We ran into a thru hiker named Rosham at the bar, and gave him some pizza, which he devoured admirably.
Sorry, gotta go. Hopefully I'll start up again tomorrow morning and hit Echo Lake 4 days from now. Maybe another posting then? No pictures until the of the trip, but they will be amazing!
Day 0 (I'm calling it day 0, because we went in a day earlier than expected) 6 miles:
We made it to Toulumne Meadows around 2:30. As usual, nothing ever goes as planned. We needed a permit for my dad to accompny me through Yosemite Wilderness, and the park was pretty full. After some "grey permitting" by a very helpful park ranger who's name I will keep anonymous, we got my dad legalizzed for the hike. However, we were also informed that bear canisters are a requirement while camping in the park. I had planned to hang my food in the trees and the prospect of adding 2.5 lbs to my already over-laden backpack was not appealing, but somehow we were both convinced. I felt we owed our amazing ranger at least this graciousness for not stopping our trip dead in its tracks.
We cleared our car of everything scented (apparently bears can smell anything, inlcuding recently some lady's insulin) and finally started out on our hike around 4:30. I late start, I know, but our ambitions for this day were few. We were looking to make a 6 mile hike to a well-used campground called Glen Aulin. We managed this, but not without difficulty. About 1/2 mile in, we realized my dad forgot his permit. That was remedied by a short jog back and a frantic search of the car. This also gave my dad an opportunity to repair his backpack, which of course had already torn at the shoulder strap.
After finally getting underway for real we made the hike in fairly good time, although we came to some sobering conclusions. My pack was far too heavy and dad was going to have blister problems. Oh well, nothing we could do now. As we walked into camp, we passed a tented buffet restauraunt. Maybe the Sierras aren't as rugged as I had oringally thought...
Day 1 15.8 miles
By the time we got up, cooked breakfast and got our packs together, it was 8:30. Not exactly an early hiker's start. Still, what did you expect from someone who'd been staying up to 2 AM every night before? Tragedy struck this morning, as we managed to lose the tent bag (Predictably, I later found it in the bottom of my pack).
We saw some gorgeous sights during our hike today. My favorite was our late-afternoon visit to Miller Lake, which exploded into view just as we ended a steep climb. The lake was beautifully blue, the mosquitoes were few, and the swimming was good, although in this I did not partake because we had to move fast to make our 16 miles. Damn late start.
I ran in to 3 interesting characters today, all of whom had been hiking since Mexico. The first was Gail, who is a 60ish graduate from Scripps College, although she got her Botany degree from Pomona. She was amusingly quarky and provided great company and helpful advice for a newbie on the trail. I ran into her a couple more times along the trail. The second was a younger woman who went by the trail name "Breeze". Trail names, I would later learn, are alternate, more memorable names thru hikers use. Usually they reflect some aspect of that person's personality or embarrassing past. Breeze had some frineds join her for the stretch from Toulumne meadows, so was moving pretty slowly. More slowly, I got the impression, then she would have liked. Finally was Grimmace, who walked into our camp late in the evening, searching for his own campsite, We talked for awhile, and he decided to trun back to an earlier site. I'd see hime later on as well.
We camped about 4 miles past Miller Lake , next to a creek crossing. Dehydrated beef and maccaroni and instant potatoes never tasted so sweet! I had no arguments about going to bed early this night, as we were aiming for a little earlier start the next morning.
I'm at an internet cafe and my time's running out, so I gotta go a little faster now...
Day 2 15.8 miles
We were moving by 7AM, a large victory for a tough day ahead. Today was really tough because of the hills. Even though the mileage was about the same as the previous day, the hills killed. The highlight of the day was hot lunch on a gorgeous, bug-free beach at Lake Benson. Absolutely beautiful and a welcome refresher from the exhausting and slow-going hiking. It was here that we realized my dad's blister problems were going to be more serious than either of us had considered. When he took his boots off for lunch, they looked bad, to the point of him wanting to put his boot back on so he didn't have to look at them. The highlight was a huge blister on the top of his foot that stretched halfway to his ankle.
In the afternoon we encountered more hills and had made only 11 miles by 5PM. The next stretch was flat, so I started a quick pace of what my dad would later describe as the "death march" on the last 5 miles of the day. We were both exhausted when we got into camp.
Day 3 19 miles
With dad's blister problems so bad, we started worrying about infection. To this end, we decided to book it today. We were moving by 6:30, ate cold breakfast on the trail, and passed up some golden swiomming opporuntites. We did encounter a tough morning climb and descent, so the going was slow at times. Still, we made 19 miles by the end of the day.
We stopped to rest next to a high altitude lake nestled in between some snow-capped mountains. There we encountered a trio of thruhikers who we'd been leap froggin all day long. They took a look at dad's feet and didn't have the best reactions. "I've seen worse" is not exactly encouraging. Thus, we decided to continue on for some more mileage before camping.
I used my trail name for the first time today. I had been debating whether I really deserved one, as I was not doing the whole stretch, but after conferring with those three thruers we decided it was appropriate. I'd been doing stupid things lately like leaving wrappers in the pockets of my sleeping close, so I settled on "Bear Bait". Self- derprecating humour, alliteration, and a double-entendre.
Day 4 19 miles
With dad's left foot being held together by moleskin, new skin and gauze wrap, we decided to go for the gold: we were going to make it to Sonora Pass, the end of our trek, today. This was no easy task, as it involved a 2000 foot climb to and a short jaunt along the Sierra Crest, just below 11,000 feet. The climb was deifficult, but the views of the sorrunding mountains were more then worth it, at least for me. Dad, I think, was on another plane of existence. As he described it to me: "I just made my whole body go numbe, that's how I kept going". To his credit, he did keep going through nearly inhuman circumstances. His foot was shredded, he was exhausted, and he started suffering from altitude sickness at 10,500 feet. At lunch, I had to force him ot eat bagels with peanut butter and honey so he wouldn't collapse during the next few miles. Yet, as we finally stumbled into Sonora Pass he was the one in the lead. Somehow, I'm not really sure how, he kept going. Stubborness maybe?
We hitched a ride into Bridgeport after about 20 minutes from a nice forest service lady. There, we got a room and I ate about as much as I've ever eaten at the local bar. Pizza, salad, and Chili cheese fries. Not to mention the cold beer. AMAZING! We ran into a thru hiker named Rosham at the bar, and gave him some pizza, which he devoured admirably.
Sorry, gotta go. Hopefully I'll start up again tomorrow morning and hit Echo Lake 4 days from now. Maybe another posting then? No pictures until the of the trip, but they will be amazing!
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