Journal Entries

I'm just going to post a lot of the painted rock pictures because I think they're cool and I would be all over them if I was dreaming about a thru-hike and reading a PCT blog. :)

I was so excited to find Rocket Llama's rock!!! #not being a stalker! I love her webcomic: http://rocket-llama.tumblr.com

May 28th- Day 37- 6.9 + 2 miles from stream before Spunky Edison Road at mile 471.3 to Casa de Luna 2 miles off of mile 478.2

I wake up enough to register Julian and Anika packing up, then fall asleep, my back softening against the ground again. The sun is up and dappling the campsite with the shadows of the trees that overhang and shelter it from the sky. I pull myself out of my sleeping bag, and lazily get packed up. I pack my sleeping bag away, put my shoes on, then open up my food bag. I spread cream cheese onto a bagel and eat it for breakfast. Then I pack my food bag away and nestle the rest of my belongs around it, everything exactly where it belongs. My clothes sit around the base of the food bag, then my pot and the ziplocs with my water filtering kit and electronics and bathroom kit and maps.

I put my earphones in and start up the Juno soundtrack that I got in Agua Dulce and zone out as the trail winds around and over ridges. I think about Juno, the movie, and try to remember what scene each song played in. I feel very happy right now, in this moment with the sun rising behind me. I have a strong desire to be a Creative Writing major, to be able to tell stories and create characters that will give people this giddy joy that I feel when I think about my favorite stories. The characters that I hold under my skin, like pieces of sand in oyster shells forming pearls. Even though it goes against my practicality and desire to be able to have a skill that I can use to help others. I don't know. I want to become a better writer.

The soundtrack ends, and I see day hikers pose for a selfie across the lush green valley. I must be close to the road (what is it they say about birds being a sign of land?). I let my songs play on shuffle for a while, but I'm not feeling it so I put my headphones away and walk. Over a final ridge on gentle uphill, my arms sticking to my sleeves with sweat. I pause to finish off the last of my peanut butter crackers, which stick in a dry mass to the corners of my mouth. I wash it down with some of the last of my water, and start walking again. There are black flies everywhere today that find my skin whenever I stop and they bite me, a sharp pain on the backs of my knees or on my neck. I don't take breaks when there are flies, but they don't bother me much at all compared to mosquitos. I can handle flies.

I walk to the road and across it, then pause. I could walk on; I want to walk on; walking on would be so easy. I'm totally peopled out still from the amount of people at Hiker Heaven, and still have a strong urge to find a campsite very far away from people and just recharge. But, Casa De Luna is down this road. I would seriously regret it if I didn't go, and as far as I know I'm hiking the PCT once and this is my only chance ever. I peer around hopefully for something like a sign posted about Casa De Luna or shuttles into Green Valley, but there's nothing.

I don't feel like hitching and all of the cars driving by look nice and expensive and I doubt they'd stop, so I start walking down the road. I start hitting houses, which all have eccentric front yards, and have signs posted telling the car drivers to slow down. There is a stuffed orangutan hanging up maids down from a tree with a slow down sign. I feel weird walking in front of people's houses or I'd take a picture.

I finally reach the market. A huge group of young guys waves at me from the parking lot, and I stand there uncomfortably while I try to decide why they're waving at me- it's a somewhat run-down town and I'm on my toes and why are people from a group of 20 guys waving at me like they know me- but by the time I decide they might be just friendly (??) it's too late to smile back and be a good trail representative; So I start walking down side streets, following the map on my phone to Casa De Luna, which is one of the famous trail angel houses along the trail, along with Hiker Heaven, Scout and Frodo's, and the Dinsmores. I feel silly walking through the houses to a place that I'm not even entirely sure exists, someplace like this surely can't exist? I feel tired and muted.

Someone walking by points me up the hill to the Casa, and I walk a bit further until I catch sight of my friends sitting on a couch on a driveway. I walk up, and a volunteer named Country Gold gives me a short run-down and tells me to go inside to get some pancakes from Joe Anderson. I set my pack against the back of one of the couches and go inside. I get to meet Joe Anderson, and grab a plate of pancakes. I eat them outside and then pick out a Hawaiian shirt from a rack snd switch it out for my smelly, damp hiking shirt. Cotton is bliss! Then I hang out with everyone and talk all day.

Twinkle Toes is here, and Kyra and Hop Along. Godongo, Ninja Tortoise, Catch Em, Anika and Julian, Morgan (possibly Pancakes now) and Louise, The Mayor... the bubble of people I hiked into when I left my group a week or two back to become a solo hiker is no longer a crowd of strangers, but a crowd of friends.

I paint a rock to look like a mountain with a quote on it, "you are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you belong here," get a big hug from Terry Anderson, and explore the forest out back. There are painted rocks piled everywhere, and I read them and explore the maze of trails that wind under a roof of smooth, red-trunked manzanita trees. I find one painted with a llama wearing a jetpack, and get excited because I know it must be Rocket Llama's, who draws a beautiful web comic about her PCT thru-hike that I love reading. In the very back of the forest, a minute's walk past any other campsite, there's a small clearing big enough for one tent. Some painted rocks around it say: "Any child conceived within these trees shall be named Tonka."

I find a spot closer to the house hidden behind some other campsites, and spread out my groundsheet and sleeping pad. Then I go hang around some more. Terry Anderson is awesome, and we get to talk to her some more. Hop Along is talking with a girl named Mika, who is also 18! I sign my name on the big sheet hung by the garage, next to Linus's name since he gave me my trail name. I thought he was behind me, or maybe there's another Linus?

I yogi a ride to the convenience store with Twinkle's friend who came to visit, and get an ice cream sandwich and a pint of chocolate peanut butter ice cream, and an Arizona Tea Arnold Palmer. I hang around and eat my ice cream, and when I'm full I give the rest to Catch Em. We talk about accents, and how the Russian language seems intimidating, and German harsh. Apparently English sounds easygoing.

It's getting dark, and Terry turns on some music. We all have to dance to get our PCT class bandanas. I'm usually okay with dancing but when I know everyone's going to be watching I feel incredibly shy. Hop Along's knee gives out as she's dancing up with me. After the bandanas no one seems to want to keep dancing, and I don't want to dance alone, so I head back into the forest with Kyra to find my cozy spot under the trees.

Banquet Reservoir being a delicious tantalizing body of water, yet so far away... You can tell how sunny and warm it is because all of these pictures have sun streaks.

Official PCT road walk getting out of Agua Dulce. It would be inappropriate to pee in someone's front yard.

May 27th- Day 36- 16.9 miles from Hiker Heaven at mile 454.4 to stream before Spunky Edison Road at mile 471.3

There is damp all over my sleeping bag. It was humid last night and condensation has infiltrated the camp. A row of colorful sleeping bags joins mine on the arbor to dry in the morning sun, and I use my loaner shirt to wipe the inside of my tent dry, or at least drier.

I have to put my sleeping bag away before anything else, so I have to wait for it to get dry before I can start packing up. I pull it down from the arbor and wave it back and forth through the air, impatient. Finally I determine it's dry enough, and pack away my things.

I sit in the electronics dome and talk to my mom while my phone charges. People duck in and out of the low entrance to plug their phones in on the jungle of chargers and cords. I say goodbye to my mom. The goodbye is always difficult for both of us, and I try not to cry when I have to hang up. I'm getting antsy to start hiking.

I go back down the hard, across the grey-water draining down a landscaped stream bed and finish packing up my stuff. The police siren-noise starts playing and they announce that the truck is about to leave for town. I run-walk back up to the entrance. I drop my donation off and they take my picture.

The shuttle is already full to the brim, hikers crammed into the truck bed hugging their backpacks. The driver tells us he'll come back and make another run. I wait with a bunch of other hikers and get to meet Pegasus, a solo Asian hiker. She always writes her trail register entries in a beautiful, neat cursive, and it's nice to put a face to the handwriting. She uses handkerchiefs tucked under her shoelaces for gaiters, and has batik fabric sewn into her sleeves to protect her hands from the sun.

We get a ride to the corner of the main street. Colleen is here and I give her a big hug; she's hitched here for breakfast, but she's back at the Acton KOA (I like how people say that when they've hitched ahead to a town further up trail, as if they're just avatars or holograms). Almost immediately upon getting there, another guy pulls up and offers everyone a ride to the trailhead. Several hikers jump on it. "I'm going to walk my purist butt over there," I grumble as goodbye, flashing a smile behind me, and head off along the side of the road which is also the PCT.

The road walk goes by quickly, properties and fields of golden grass lining the road. I have a need to pee but there's nowhere to go. The guy who offered me a ride passes by several more times with loads of hikers in his 8-seater dune buggy. The trail leaves the road and becomes actual trail again under crackling power lines. The humming and sizzling sounds like it's coming from everywhere.

I'm exhausted from staying up late and waking up early two days in a row at Hiker Heaven, and go into autopilot, zoning out as I walk. I was too tired to write my journal post last night. The miles go by quickly this way. Multi-hued lilies are spotted along the side of the trail, magenta with blushes of yellow on the petals, white-cream with pink. I get to Bear Spring with Hop Along, and set my pack down under the trees by Cowboy and The Flash. I filter some water, then head out again.

There's a view of Banquet Reservoir, which sparkles like a blue oasis amid the lush green chaparral. From this distance, the trees on the islands in the middle look like palm trees. I wish I could be there, swimming and sitting on an island beach.

The trail crests over a ridge, then down across a road. Then up. I want to get to bed early tonight, and so want to stop early. I walk up on Julian and Anika after a stream crossing, and they invite me into their palace; Julian points out for me the Persian rug and granite countertops, the industrial kitchen. Julian pulls out a speaker and starts playing classic rock oldies, which convinces me to stay. I set up my cowboy camp under the trees and we eat dinner together, along with Focus and The Mayor, both of whom I've heard about but never met. We talk about music and Germany and the Peace Corp and news and this past election. Karma and Hop Along each pass by. Julian plays music by La Brassbanda, a Bulgarian band. It's so weird to listen to music in a different language, even though it's what everyone in other countries does.

I crawl into my sleeping bag. My knee was bothering me again on the downhills, the one that wasn't originally bothering me, and I hope it doesn't do anything bad. I don't want to be sucked into another vortex again tomorrow by stopping by Casa De Luna, but I also don't want to miss it and regret not going, so I think I'll at least visit tomorrow. We talk about the Sierra coming up soon; only about 250 miles from here. I'll be there in maybe two weeks. It's flown by so fast! I'm both excited and scared for going into the snow.

May 26th- Day 35- Zero at Hiker Heaven.

I have Full Intentions to leave today. Kyra is antsy and heads out, and will wait for Hop Along at Casa De Luna in 24 miles. There are only 4 names on the list for the shuttle to REI; Hop Along, Godongo, Rick and myself. I sit on the porch and talk with Rick about the Sierra snowpack and gear and people flipping up to Oregon or Washington, standing up every now and then to check the REI list. We need a minimum of 6 people by 10, so at 9:30 we walk around and ask people if they need to go. No Bueno. Sugar Mama or one of the other volunteers calls the shuttle company, and it's decided that we'll wait until noon to see if other hikers arrive who will want to go to REI.

The shuttle to town just left, so Rick and I decide to walk down together to get breakfast. I talked to Rick about preparation and other things quite a bit before starting the hike, so it's cool I've been at about the same pace as him. We talk more about the Sierra; with only 250 more miles and 2-3 weeks to Kennedy Meadows, it suddenly seems much more real. The guy Rick is hiking with for now wants to flip around it and walk south from Canada, but we both think that's a bad idea, since there's almost just as much snow up there, and you'd be hiking alone and breaking your own trail vs. hiking with a ton of other people in the Sierra with other people's footprints to follow, no matter how misguided they may be. It still feels very abstract.

I order Huevos Rancheros (eggs and beans with warm corn tortillas; I had no idea this was a thing so I wanted to try it) and scrape my plate clean. I left my phone and charger somewhere, I don't know exactly where back at Hiker Heaven, so I'm a bit anxious as we walk the mile back up the hill. It's not bad at all without packs on. It would be super nice to hike without a heavy pack! Rick has a heavier pack and is always light-heartedly ragging on people with lighter packs because he believes we are smug fast-walking villains or something like that, which we really are, to be honest. He's just jealous!

We get back right before the shuttle to REI is coming, and I have just enough time to find my phone and run down to my tent to empty my food bag to use as a grocery bag. I hop into the van with a bunch of other hikers. The fabric seats are soft and comfy, and I want to fall asleep as the van softly rocks back and forth. We get on the highway, and I fight back the vague anxiety that I get now when I see how many cars and people there are. The driver drops us off in front of the REI, in the LA sprawl somewhere. I grab a new pair of shoes and socks, and check out. Then I walk over to the Smart N Final next door and push a cart around to get my resupply. I get blueberry bagels and two things of cream cheese, and some mango kombucha and a peach, and other things. I can't find my peach after I pay for my groceries, and so I sit in the van drinking my kombucha while I listen to a hiker named Pogo talk with the driver. There's a busy intersection nearby, and a tangle of power lines, and so many cars that fill the entire parking lot, but I kind of just zone it out and focus on my immediate surroundings.

When I get back to Hiker Heaven, I sort and repackage my resupply on the straw bales around the fire pit, and when I pack it away my food bag is filled to the top. I throw away my dusty old shoes, kissing them goodbye and thanking them before I drop them into the trash can. Twerk walks in, and then I see Karma and Nirvana walking up the road and I run over to say hello and hug them and chauffeur them through the gates. The volunteer who gives them the tour asks them if they want a couple's trailer, and they just shake their heads and tell her they aren't a couple. I stand nearby and laugh. Platonic couple maybe.

I'm realizing that my vague resolve of this morning to get out of here is becoming less determined, with my tent still up and my belongings scattered inside. I sit in the electronics dome with Twerk and Rawhide to charge my phone. Nope, I decide, I'm definitely not leaving; it's too hard to achieve escape velocity later in the day when I still need to pack up all of my stuff.

I head out for dinner with Hop Along, a Swede with a lazy eye named Fred, and a couple, Rawdog and Buttstuff. We go to the Mexican place, which is busy. Rawdog tries to order a pitcher of margarita to go around and Hop Along goes along with it and I go along with Hop Along... Hop Along I assume for the margaritas and I to see if I could actually pull off something so daring and rebellious, but the waiter asks for IDs. My cheeks go hot and I innocently smile and say that I'm 18 so I couldn't drink the margarita anyway. My parents have always let me try alcohol, and I have no desire to be drunk so I've never really seen the appeal illicit drinking has to regular teenagers... But I can also see how blatantly breaking this taboo could be thrilling.

As everyone talks I demolish the 4 baskets of chips and salsa almost by myself. So, I'm feeling not-particularly hungry when my wet bean burrito comes, but I finish it anyway. The warm beans and cheese ooze out when I break into the elastic gluten tortilla with my fork.

We go up to the cash register to pay- I pay last, and my card declines. I remember looking at my balance earlier; I had a hundred-something dollars in checking before the REI run, and I must have depleted it and been using up all of my automatic withdrawals for the month. I feel embarrassed and pay with cash, mostly because I know that people are normally embarrassed by their cards declining and not because I actually feel I should be embarrassed. I resent the fact that I feel like I should be embarrassed! Oh well?

We walk back in the dark, stepping aside as cars rush past with their bright white headbeams leaping into the air. The last shuttle back was an hour ago. I use my phone's flashlight to illuminate the bumpy asphalt and patches of dried grass. Hop Along sings songs from musicals out loud. Wild Card is on the side of the road and invites us to share a joint- I shake my head no and keep walking with Fred, and lament to him about how it seems like everyone on the PCT smokes and drinks and how I have no interest and so feel like the odd one out constantly in town? Like everyone is drinking and smoking and so it's like they're all in on some joke while I'm sitting there pretending to laugh and I just can't relate to it.

I sit, quiet, with Twerk, Rawhide, their friend Campo, and Nirvana and Karma in the electronics tent- everyone is cracking lewd jokes that aren't funny to me and I feel slightly lonely, so I slip away to my tent and fall asleep.