Pretty views of Mount Rainier this morning, pretty views all day. Ran into an old man who was completely out of water and wanted to know where the next source was- about five miles south, or about a mile north if he backtracked. I gave him a least a liter of my own. I wish I had seen him backtrack and camp at the lake below, but instead he reached out his bottle for more.
I had to night-hike WELL after dark again. From all the elk I've been interrupting, I've started to sing constantly. Too bad I can't remember many songs, and those I can never remeber the lyrics.
As I was cooking dinner, I accidentally knocked the entire setup down. Luckily, my lentils extinct guished the flame, but as I grabbed the stove to turn off the gas, one of the tines burned a hole into my finger. The whole experience was quite upsetting; I lost my night's dinner, I burnt my finger, and I could have lit the tent on fire. Thanks to low blood sugar and the adrenaline, I was very weepy for the rest of the night.
- Typoed on my iPhone
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Mile 2262.4: And God smiled upon my poop
After nearly five months of camping, you'd think I'd be a pro at pooping. Not so. Something usually goes wrong; the soil is difficult to dig through, a good spot is hard to find or get to, my aim is off, there's too much or not enough soil for backfilling, the spot is so perfect, it's already used for another trail/camosite, etc. This morning, I thought I'd found a hidden spot behind a downed-tree's rootball, but then I saw a southbounder clearly walking along the trail, quite within easy sight. I couldn't find my way back from my farther spot, and ended up wandering down the trail in the wrong direction looking for my pack.
All factors combined this afternoon. My spot was easy to get to, but well-hidden by a terrain feature and a curtain of vegetation. The soil was easy to dig through and my aim was on the bullseye. After three to four days of pretty solid rain, the sun came out, warm and shining, very briefly. Within minutes of putting my pack on, it was back to raining.
- Typoed on my iPhone
All factors combined this afternoon. My spot was easy to get to, but well-hidden by a terrain feature and a curtain of vegetation. The soil was easy to dig through and my aim was on the bullseye. After three to four days of pretty solid rain, the sun came out, warm and shining, very briefly. Within minutes of putting my pack on, it was back to raining.
- Typoed on my iPhone
Mile 2237.9: More rain and misery
9/8/2010
Even though it's light enough to hike by 6:15, it is too dark to believe it is time to start getting ready at 5:30. So I keep leaving at 6:45. Burnin' daylight!
Today was a math intensive day. I talked to Sweet 16 about speeds, mileages, and end dates when she passed me. Then I relayed that to Micro and we talked some more trail math when she passed me. Micro and 16 discussed the topic further when she passed 16, 16 and I continued at lunch, and I wrapped it up with Micro when I caught up to her at her lunch spot.
Sweet 16 and I had a good laugh at Micro's expense as we talked mileages. We don't quite understand how Micro conceptualizes and thinks about days and mileages, but it's definitely different from how we do it, and often wrong. For instance, today. Each section in Washington is evenly divisible by 25 miles, very convenient since that's our daily goal. We left Hood River at 5 pm, Sweet 16 and I figure that we'll do 150 miles in six 24-hour periods, and get into White Pass at 5 pm. If we leave White Pass at 10 am, we'll do the 100 miles to Snoqualmie Pass in four 24-hour periods and get to Snoqualmie at 10 am. Somehow, this line of logic does not work for Micro. We had a very exasperating and irritating (mostly for Micro, I was too amused to be very pissed) conversation today, me trying to convince her that if we eat breakfast with her parents in Snoqualmie and don't increase our daily average, we'll be getting into Snoqualmie at the very inconvient time of late-morning. She swore up and down that we'd be getting in during the evening, finally spelling it out for me:
"Look, let's say we leave by 10. Then we'll probably get 20 miles in the first day (optimistic estimate). The next day we'll do 25, which means 55 total, then another 25 the day after that, so 80 total, then we'll only have to do 20 miles the last day and we'll get in during the evening." Great logic, dear, except it's wrong. This happens every single section, usually multiple times.
It rained more persistently and harder today. I'm worried about tackling the Goat Rocks Wilderness if it stays stormy.
- Typoed on my iPhone
Even though it's light enough to hike by 6:15, it is too dark to believe it is time to start getting ready at 5:30. So I keep leaving at 6:45. Burnin' daylight!
Today was a math intensive day. I talked to Sweet 16 about speeds, mileages, and end dates when she passed me. Then I relayed that to Micro and we talked some more trail math when she passed me. Micro and 16 discussed the topic further when she passed 16, 16 and I continued at lunch, and I wrapped it up with Micro when I caught up to her at her lunch spot.
Sweet 16 and I had a good laugh at Micro's expense as we talked mileages. We don't quite understand how Micro conceptualizes and thinks about days and mileages, but it's definitely different from how we do it, and often wrong. For instance, today. Each section in Washington is evenly divisible by 25 miles, very convenient since that's our daily goal. We left Hood River at 5 pm, Sweet 16 and I figure that we'll do 150 miles in six 24-hour periods, and get into White Pass at 5 pm. If we leave White Pass at 10 am, we'll do the 100 miles to Snoqualmie Pass in four 24-hour periods and get to Snoqualmie at 10 am. Somehow, this line of logic does not work for Micro. We had a very exasperating and irritating (mostly for Micro, I was too amused to be very pissed) conversation today, me trying to convince her that if we eat breakfast with her parents in Snoqualmie and don't increase our daily average, we'll be getting into Snoqualmie at the very inconvient time of late-morning. She swore up and down that we'd be getting in during the evening, finally spelling it out for me:
"Look, let's say we leave by 10. Then we'll probably get 20 miles in the first day (optimistic estimate). The next day we'll do 25, which means 55 total, then another 25 the day after that, so 80 total, then we'll only have to do 20 miles the last day and we'll get in during the evening." Great logic, dear, except it's wrong. This happens every single section, usually multiple times.
It rained more persistently and harder today. I'm worried about tackling the Goat Rocks Wilderness if it stays stormy.
- Typoed on my iPhone
Mile 2210.0: I love mayonnaise!
9/7/2010
Rained and drizzled on and off all day. Not too miserable though. Best trail magic since before South Lake Tahoe, thanks to section alums Joanne and Greg. Killed enough time there that Micro and I had to do a bit of night hiking to catch up to Sweet 16. Couldn't find a very good tent spot, ended up pitching our tent in the middle of a trail junction.
At the trail magic, I had two hotdogs. I couldn't remember if hotdogs are typically eaten with ketchup, mustard, relish, and mayonnaise, just like how hamburgers are usually eaten with mayo, mustard, ketchup, lettuce, tomato, and onion. So I went ahead and put mayo on my hotdog, which it turns out is not typical. I used to think mayo was gross, but actually it's amazing! It's creamy, fatty, and super delicious. Mmm... I could eat if with a spoon!
- Typoed on my iPhone
Rained and drizzled on and off all day. Not too miserable though. Best trail magic since before South Lake Tahoe, thanks to section alums Joanne and Greg. Killed enough time there that Micro and I had to do a bit of night hiking to catch up to Sweet 16. Couldn't find a very good tent spot, ended up pitching our tent in the middle of a trail junction.
At the trail magic, I had two hotdogs. I couldn't remember if hotdogs are typically eaten with ketchup, mustard, relish, and mayonnaise, just like how hamburgers are usually eaten with mayo, mustard, ketchup, lettuce, tomato, and onion. So I went ahead and put mayo on my hotdog, which it turns out is not typical. I used to think mayo was gross, but actually it's amazing! It's creamy, fatty, and super delicious. Mmm... I could eat if with a spoon!
- Typoed on my iPhone
Mile 2185.7: we hike
Nothing very interesting happenned to me today, though Microburst did get stung by a bee and tripped on a root that ripped her other shoe open. Sweet 16 is getting faster. She got to our super-sweet campspot at 5:30, Micro got there at 7, and I toddled in at 8. It's tempting to be depressed that I'm having my ass handed to me by BOTH my hiking partners now; that I really am the ball and chain holding Team Mexico or Bust back. I have spent too much time (in Northern California, mostly) being depressed and heaping on the self-loathing. I don't want to go back to that, I'm on track to finish before October 1st, and I can do what it takes to stay on-track.
- Typoed on my iPhone
- Typoed on my iPhone
Mile 2160ish: Bridge of the Gods
We spent the morning resupplying, which I barely had to do since my mom sent a boxful of dank, homemade food. The entire county seemed to be out of fuel canisters, which made me nervous since I've already gotten over 900 miles from my current one. Safeway did have jalapeño-cheddar bagels fresh out of the oven though, so I managed to keep it under control.
Jeff dropped us off at the trailhead for the Bridge of the Gods, which is funny, since there is no trail or pedestrian lane for Bridge of the Gods. We just walked across that grate that looked down onto the water 1,000's of feet below at the same time as the rest of Washington drive
- Typoed on my iPhone
Mile 2155.7: into Cascade Locks
After yesterday's beautiful weather, it was only fitting that I woke up in swirling fog this morning. I panicked, thinking that rain was imminent and my sleeping bag would be rendered useless, but then I remembered that I'd be in town tonight, I'd be fine no matter what. Once I was packed up and got moving, drops began to fall, but I think it was only the clouds condensed in the trees, and the wind blowing the condensed water out of the trees.
We took the Eagle Creek alternate route down to Cascade Locks; far more beautiful than the PCT and a mile shorter. It follows Eagle Creek as it cascades from pool to pool, and goes through a tunnel behind a very tall waterfall along a sheer basalt cliff. It was pretty cool. It was also very rocky, and I was moving particularly slowly as I dealt with the tenderness of my feet and the slowness of my brain picking my way down the trail.
About four miles from the trailhead, I met a group of four women hiking with two or three men, out from Portland and elsewhere for Labor Day weekend. I tried to keep up with them because I knew my own natural pace just would not do, and when they offered to let me pass, I had to explain that I was actually jus mooching off of their speed and I could drop back farther if I was too close for comfort. Instead, we talked about the PCT and world news outside of the PCT, and before I knew it, I was at the trailhead saying goodbye to my new friends.
I asked another group of three women about the trailhead restrooms, and we started talking about the PCT and the High Sierra, and how two of them had just done the John Muir Trail a few weeks before. I complemented one on her super-cute boots as I simultaneously asked for a ride to Cascade Locks, and I was in. They even gave me Burts Bees sage oil spray-on deodorant!
Microburst, Sweet 16, and I met Jeff, a friend of a friend, at the Charburger in Cascade Locks. I had been really afraid that we were asking way too much by calling one week in advance, sending tons of boxes for him to pick up at the Post Office, and showing up expecting rides, showers, laundry, and probably food and beds as well. I got over my fears fast, probably faster than I should have. Jeff and his wife Lindsey were so cool and relaxed that I quickly forgot any semblance of manners thar I may have once had.
After much deliberation ("I dunno, what do you want to do?" "I dunno, what do you want to do?") we decided to stay in for dinner, which was an excellent choice. Lindsey talked herself down as a cook, but the food was truly excellent. We had a caprese salad (or at least I think that's the right name) with fresh mozzarella and tomatoes and basil from the garden, saffron rice, heirloom green beans, broccolini sauteed in olive oil and bacon (I ended up licking the pan clean), and salmon that Josh had caught in the Kasilof river. I ate a ton, but since it was good food rather than the gross stuff I usually gorge myself on, I never got sick. Between the shower, the food, the beer, and the company, I went to bed a very happy girl.
We took the Eagle Creek alternate route down to Cascade Locks; far more beautiful than the PCT and a mile shorter. It follows Eagle Creek as it cascades from pool to pool, and goes through a tunnel behind a very tall waterfall along a sheer basalt cliff. It was pretty cool. It was also very rocky, and I was moving particularly slowly as I dealt with the tenderness of my feet and the slowness of my brain picking my way down the trail.
About four miles from the trailhead, I met a group of four women hiking with two or three men, out from Portland and elsewhere for Labor Day weekend. I tried to keep up with them because I knew my own natural pace just would not do, and when they offered to let me pass, I had to explain that I was actually jus mooching off of their speed and I could drop back farther if I was too close for comfort. Instead, we talked about the PCT and world news outside of the PCT, and before I knew it, I was at the trailhead saying goodbye to my new friends.
I asked another group of three women about the trailhead restrooms, and we started talking about the PCT and the High Sierra, and how two of them had just done the John Muir Trail a few weeks before. I complemented one on her super-cute boots as I simultaneously asked for a ride to Cascade Locks, and I was in. They even gave me Burts Bees sage oil spray-on deodorant!
Microburst, Sweet 16, and I met Jeff, a friend of a friend, at the Charburger in Cascade Locks. I had been really afraid that we were asking way too much by calling one week in advance, sending tons of boxes for him to pick up at the Post Office, and showing up expecting rides, showers, laundry, and probably food and beds as well. I got over my fears fast, probably faster than I should have. Jeff and his wife Lindsey were so cool and relaxed that I quickly forgot any semblance of manners thar I may have once had.
After much deliberation ("I dunno, what do you want to do?" "I dunno, what do you want to do?") we decided to stay in for dinner, which was an excellent choice. Lindsey talked herself down as a cook, but the food was truly excellent. We had a caprese salad (or at least I think that's the right name) with fresh mozzarella and tomatoes and basil from the garden, saffron rice, heirloom green beans, broccolini sauteed in olive oil and bacon (I ended up licking the pan clean), and salmon that Josh had caught in the Kasilof river. I ate a ton, but since it was good food rather than the gross stuff I usually gorge myself on, I never got sick. Between the shower, the food, the beer, and the company, I went to bed a very happy girl.
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