Aches and Pains and Gains

DAY 59 - On the Road Again

The four of us, Furniture, Rally, Ishmael, and I, finished packing our bags and said goodbye to Terry the trailer. Then more heartfelt goodbyes were said to Bill whom Ishmael described as our storyteller, our entertainer, our friend, our mentor, etc.

We piled into the station wagon with Sheree and set off for Willow Springs road, where we had left off eight days prior. I was excited to get back on the trail, I felt renewed, re-energized, and ambitious.

We pulled off of the road by Willow Springs, took pictures, and said our last goodbyes.




(Sheree, Furniture, me, Ishmael, and Rally)

The hills were rolling and I moved at a clip, keeping up with the others.

Ishmael was in front, and there was a sudden holler. The line of us hikers close in proximity to one another skidded to a halt and backed up faster than you can say "Bob's your uncle!" I hadn't even seen the culprit, but I was certain I knew what it was. I could hear it before I saw it. Sitting in the middle of the trail coiled, furious, rattling away while maintaining a striking pose it was the only thing to slow us down in the 8 miles between Willow Springs road and highway 58, a giant mojave green rattlesnake. Most likely it was out for revenge since we had just ate one of his cousins the night before.

We all carefully, while keeping a leery eye on the snake, got off the trail and climbed up and around it, keeping a much bigger distance than the snake's strike would allow.

Upon making it to 58 and signing another trail register we saw a slim tanned figure coming, bounding up the road. He neared and began to look terribly familiar. I wasn't certain, but when he arrived at the register he said to me, "You look familiar."

"What's your name?" I excitedly asked.

"Evan." he replied.

"Yes, we met before Big Bear. I was with three others, and you shared your organic pop tarts and pita chips with us before you went off and night hiked."

"yes!"

We briefly spoke but he moved on quickly to catch up with another hiker ahead.

It was strange to see him. When we had met and he had left that warm campfire weeks and weeks ago to walk quickly towards I -15 to meet up with a trail crew, I had a funny feeling our paths would converge again, though I didn't know why.

The four of us walked along together, but I started to fall behind because we were going up a great hill. I caught the boys for lunch and a snack break but didn't see them again until dinner time. At the last snack break Evan caught up to us (for we had passed him and No Teeth a ways back). Evan and I hiked the last six miles together. I found out that even though he was only 21 he had already been to many places abroad and he had served in the Israeli army though he was not Israeli.

We saw a beautiful sunset against a backdrop of rugged and green desert mountains then arrived at the spring where the three others were starting their dinners.

We ate and then meaneder a few yards up the road to a small clearing. Rally and Ishmael set up camp in a sketchy looking shelter made up of an old truck wodden beams and junk.




(the shelter)

Furniture and I set up our own tents and I got a lesson on how to hang a bear bag.

I went back to my tent and began popping the freshly formed blisters on my feet. I had sent my Chacos back with Safia because I was trying to carry less weight and I knew I would probably only use my trail runners in the snow. I could switch back to sandals later. This switch to closed shoes was devistating for my feet, especially since I had walked nearly 25 miles that day. I clipped as much skin away from the blisters as my pain tolerance would allow, but had to stop after awhile. I went to bed exhausted.

DAY 60 - Well It's Been a Long, Been a Long, Been a Long Day.

I bandaged up my blisters, unwantingly slipped my shoes on and skiddadled before the rest of the crew, in hopes that I could spend most of my lunch with them. They passed me as I passed windmills, and I knew it was going to be a long day for I was already tired. I supplemented my morning walk by the short stories podcast and made it to late morning snack break with enough time to take off my shoes and prop my feet up. We shared seasame crepes and joked around. The shade of the trees and the breeze gave the atmosphere a lovely feeling.

I didn't catch the guys for lunch but skipped it so that I didn't fall too far behind. I listened to vol. 1 of The Ramones anthology to try to keep my pace at a fast and steady rate. But finally, after I crossed the 600 mark I had to stop on the side of a dusty road for a peckish lunch.

I was thankful to cross onto a mountain covered by trees and liberal amounts of foilage, it offered shade and made the last several of the day's 25 miles less painful.




(what? Trees? Are we almost out of the desert?)

I finally made it to the camp almost hobbling. Past 20 miles and my body just wanted to give out, the only things that would keep me moving on were the thoughts of my friends at camp and the dimming light.

New blisters were forming and by the time I got to camp I barely had time to cook dinner and hang my bear bag before dark. I laid my stinky clothes out on a nearby bush, I didn't care that they would be damp in the morning, I was just hoping for a little less stink.

Evan and No Teeth were camped nearby. I stretched, said goodnight to all and laid down. Sleep took awhile to come, all the miles from the day left my muscles near spasms, they would just throb and ache all up and down my legs and glutes. All I wanted was sleep, but even that was becoming difficult.

DAY 61 - Hot Hot Heat

When I awoke Furniture was holding up his cashmere sweater.

"Something ate my sweater!" he exclaimed.

There was a huge hole in the side of the sweater. I burst out with a small fit of giggles. I felt so bad for Furniture and his warm cozy sweater, but it looked hilarious. Karma came around quick as I reached for my clothes and found a less drastic but similar look. There was a series of tiny little chewed holes in my long sleeve wool shirt. The little rodent probably wanted all the salt residue on the shirt. Now coupled with the tear in the left armpit from a fall I was going to look like a real ragamuffin.

I put on the damp cold clothes and rolled out last.

I tried desperately to put the pain of my blisters out of my mind. Every step was a throb and a stab. If I slowed down and hobbled I would never get to camp that night and I would probably end up straining something because of my altered gait. If I went fast the pain would increase but I knew it wouldn't worsen anything.

The morning was cool and lovely in the forest, but as I reached another trail register I noticed something another hiker said, "The trees have been a nice change, too bad we are about to be dropped back down into the desert."

Now I like the desert, but it was starting to get hot, and desert equalled little to no shade. So I savored what I had left of the quiet trees and misty meadows.


(morning mist and light)

Before long I was at a water cache with the guys and Evan. I ate M&Ms and enjoyed the brief stint of flip-flop time.

I left after the guys and as I proceeded down into the valley I began to sweat furiously. It was a windless corridor that felt more like a sweat lodge. I took my ratty wool shirt off and decided one day of full sun exposure wouldn't harm my flesh. I was just desperate for any tiny and slight breeze to hit my skin directly. As I climbed up and out of the valley the sun stayed hot and directly overhead, but breezes began to cool me off.

I finally found a big enough Joshua tree with a decent amount of shade with ground nearby that wasn't covered with prickly little plants. I lunched then gathered the energy to press through the heat. The wind had picked up and I decided that too much wind was better than too little. The former being annoying but the latter making me want to wither away and die.

My feet were hurting but my spirits were high and so when I saw Evan and Rally laying in the shade of Joshua tree I kept going, knowing that they would catch up soon.




(though it was hot the landscape was beautiful...I love Joshua trees...I love desert plant life.)

Before long I was passed by all five boys (Ishmael, Rally, Furniture, Evan, and No Teeth) because we were going uphill and I stink at uphill pace. But then, after much toiling up the hill we came to the downhill. In recent weeks my knees have stopped hurting terribly and I have mastered the downhill glide/run. So in no time I caught back up to the boys and soon we were at a much needed water cache (the second of the day, thank you trail angles).

But we weren't done. After dinner we decided to get a head start on the giant mountain coming right up so that we would have a mere 18 miles the next day to Walker Pass where there was to be some supposed trail magic (though generally you aren't supposed to know about trail magic before it happens). The only good thing about continuing meant I had less miles to walk the next day. It comforted me, only slightly.

Our uphill march made my quads and glutes burn for 2.5 more miles, making this day the day that I had walked the most miles. A marathon worth of miles.

The little nook of a campsite had amazing views. We were nestled on a small saddle like, flat portion of the mountain, with fantastic views around either corner.

I clumsily patched my gnarly blisters and crawled into a nook covered by pine branches. Ishmael took my food bag and hung it with his, which I was thankful for, once I had stopped walking for the day it was hard to do anything else. Even going to use the restroom meant hobbling more than I liked.

I had taken more pain reliever that day than I had taken in the ten years previous. Eight little 200mg pills. It helped dull the pain in my feet ( blisters and the bones and muscles) just enough to make walking slightly tolerable.

I fell asleep under the stars partially protected from wind and dew thanks to the branches.

DAY 62 - Milkshakes and Magic

We woke up early and headed out of camp excited by the prospect of a little trail magic.

My feet hurt.

They hurt so bad. There were blisters on my toes and my heels that had been cut open and were trying to heal. Though bandaged up, dirt would still get past the band-aids because that's what happens when you walk so many miles a day on dusty dusty trails. To top it off, the bones around my arches felt like little bags of sensitive pain.

All I could think about was counting down the miles to Walker Pass. I took a ration of my pain pills and listened to one of my mixes to try to get my mind off of the hurt that was happening in my feet. But I got more and more behind the guys.

It was hot on top of everything else.

I was getting close to our destination but those last miles seemed like they would be near impossible. I couldn't take it much longer. I just wanted to quit. I just wanted to stop the pain.

There was no one around. So I decided my best option would be to find a perfect rock, sit down, and cry my eyes out. I didn't really want to quit, I just needed to release some anguish. I just needed to cry so that I could make it to the trail magic where I would be nurtured and brought back to life.

I found the most perfect rock. I sat and I started to let the tears fall as they may.

Then came a human bustling down the trail! Crap! My plan of crying unseen was foiled!

It was Evan and there was no use in hiding my tears, it was too late he had already seen me sniveling.

But Evan came over to the rock under the shade and sat next to me.

"Im sorry! I didn't mean for anyone to see me crying, I thought I was alone!" I said.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"My feet just hurt so bad." I said through my girly little tears.

"we're almost there I think! I could carry some of your weight, your pack looks pretty heavy." he offered.

I couldn't believe he had offered to do such a thing. It was the ultimate offer of kindness, to relieve someone else of part of their burden by burdening yourself instead.

"no, but thanks. It's my weight, I can carry it." I told him.

He sat with me and we talked for a few minutes until I mustered the courage to stand on my achy two feet once again. I gritted my teeth, only a couple more miles and we would be there, and I would take my wretched shoes off and sit, sit, sit.

With Evan right behind me I was encouraged to continue. I knew he wouldn't let me get behind him and so I had to press on for his sake so he could make it to trail magic by a decent time.

As the heat continued to descend upon the valley I began to dream of mojitos, and sweet iced tea, and shaded porches and fresh baked pies. I thought of swimming pools and of running streams. I wanted it all.

Then we were there.




(sign pointing to the glorious oasis around the way)

I took my pack off and before I could even finish taking off my shoes Chief Daddy (a hiker with a kilt, an opinion, and an entourage) tried to give me a grilled cheese sandwich. I had just walked nearly 100 miles in 4 days, I had to get my shoes off first.

Chief Daddy patiently stood by as I unlaced my shoes and then slipped my glorious flip flops on.

Rally saved me a seat on the shaded bench near Jackalope the grilled cheese maker, and former PCT thru-hiker.

I was given a Gatorade and fresh cherries and peaches were also available for the eating.

It was magic. Just what I needed. I had felt so down, but now I had an afternoon to rest, a belly food of food, and encouraging people all around. It seemed that everytime things became almost unbearable something happened to give me to strength to go on. Some days it was trail magic, other days it was a beautiful sunset shared on the top of the mountain with friends, no matter how bad a day might be or how bad I might hurt some element of the day made it delightful...though the ratio of pain to gain was just unfortunate.

Since we had all afternoon Furniture, Evan, and I decided to try to do the very long hitch into Lake Isabella for the supposed best milkshakes on the trail. Milkshakes would further my recooperation and let me heal at an exponential rate. I also had found that I loved hitching.

So we walked down to the road and stuck out our thumbs.

"Come on Rainbow Brite work your magic!" the boys said.

The first truck passed by...and then pulled over down the road.

We ran up to the truck and told them we were heading to Lake Isabella.

Viola!

He opened the camper of the truck and we piled in. We squished together, carefully, trying not to encrouch on the people already sitting on the bench in the back. They told us they were headed to the lake for an afternoon of fishing and family fun. The air was warm in the camper but the views streaming by were stunning. I like seeing still views of the mountains while hiking, but I equally love the movement and motion a vehicle provides in relation to a view. Maybe it has to do with my movie making side, I think,"what a great tracking shot this would make!"




(in the back of the camper)

But as we were going along our merry way the truck made a turn and we saw the sign pointing perpendicularly towards Lake Isabella slowly start to get smaller. So we asked the truck to stop. It was a slight miscommunication, they were going to the lake Lake Isabella, we were trying to go to the town Lake Isabella. We thanked them for the 12 miles they had taken us thus far and walked back to the turn off. Later we found out that the town of Kernville, where they were heading through, is a sweet little place, probably with decent milkshakes as well.

After 30 minutes of holding out our thumbs and waving at every passerby (wherein I began to learn the signlanguage of a hitch hiker, for instance someone drives by and gives you the hand sign for an inch, it means they aren't going far and are about to turn off just down the road) we got a ride from a wonderful lady named Mary.

She was a wildlife biologist and we spoke of the work she did in the area during the summertime. She took us right to Nelda's diner where the shakes were to be epic.

We saw Chief Daddy and his entourage eating and slurping up the last bits of their meals. Chief Daddy eyed us jealously as our malts arrived, and then I found out he was lactose intolerant. I held up my two lactaid tablets and said, "this malt is made enjoyable because of these!". Though his lactose intolerance sounded worse than mine he seemed pleased to know that there might be something that would work for him in the future.

My stawberry peanut butter malt was fab, but more impressive than the malt was the list of shakes/malts. They had imagined every combination possible and given them all names. There were probably 75 on the list.

The entourage left and I went and swooped the leftover fries from their table. Furniture and I feasted on them while Evan used my iPhone to try and track down a decent shoe store in the area. Evan's shoes had blown out a few days back and he had some crappy Kmart replacements. I felt so bad, had I had a car I would have driven him anywhere he needed, but I was in the same boat of transportation. There was nothing in Isabella and the buses had stopped running to Bakersfield for the day. So we went to the grocery store, the drug store, and McD's before getting back to the highway.

We got our first hitch relatively quickly, a guy on the way to Bible study. But the little gas station we were left off at was not such a hot hitchhiking pick up spot. The sun was setting and it was getting darker and darker. Car headlights were starting to come on and the air was getting cooler. We had missed trail magic dinner by now.

After probably close to an hour of waiting two young dudes in a truck were about to pull from the gas station onto the highway.

We hooted and hollered, "can you give us a ride?"

"we've got groceries in the back!" they said.

"we don't care!" we replied!

Furniture ran up to the window, we were now resorting to bribing now. And it worked!

We moved the groceries from the cab to the bed and squeezed in. As the truck lurched forward Furniture and I looked at each other and buckled our seatbelts. The driver with his tilted DC cap and plaid shorts had the tunes pumpin' and thumpin' as we swerved down the beautiful and curvy valley road. The passenger with wild and curly black hair pointed out mountains that they had climbed up.

"you guys carrying guns?" he asked.

"no." we replied.

"aw man I'd be carrying one!" he told us.

They drove us right up to the campground where we hoped out.

We went back to the trail magic tent and rustled up the tiny bits of leftover grub and joined in on conversation with the others and the thru-hiker celebrity Yogi. Yes, thru-hiking culture is strange and there are celebrities in that world. I could care less but some people seem to make a big deal of it.

I went to sleep under the picnic bench that furniture slept on top of. I didn't want to be under a sappy tree, and I laid there trying to make my muscles stop quaking. It was a good day, but I still hurt all over.



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