Still plugging away

So far we have logged over 200 miles on the trail. I have to admit that, even though I had over 2 weeks off to catch up on this blog, I have lost a little bit of the spark that motivates me to update these posts. I think I've gotten a little lazy and a little discouraged by concern of portraying an accurate picture. Nonetheless, I recognize this public forum of journaling, although somewhat out of my confort zone, is overall a great lesson in communication. One thing that I am stiil bummed about is not being able to get my pics uploaded in a slideshow. I will continue to work it out.

Yesterday we finished up about a 30 plus miles section from HWY 78 to Warner Springs that we had skipped. I am so glad we came back because it was quite enjoyable. Now, with 2 trucks used to shuttle, we are approaching the rest of the southern section as a series of day hikes or shorter overnighters where we leapfrog with the trucks and walk north to south, but covering incremental sections from south to north. This may sound confusing, but is actually a really great way to see more of the landscape via road and trail, and more importantly allows us to greatly reduce our pack weight.

Our first day back out we walked about 17 miles from Barrel Springs to about 7 miles from HWY 78. We would have been able to cover the entire 24 mile section, but because I was a dumbass and left the keys to my truck (that was awaiting us at HWY 78) in Pams truck (back at Barrel Springs) we didn't want to deal with hitchhiking close to dark. The day was rather chilly, but made for very comfortable hiking and the night ended up being extremely windy with gusts beating against our tent. We saw 29 people in that one day, nearly 3 times as many as we had seen during the previous 200 miles! The kickoff definitely put the throngs out there. I have to admit, I liked it better with less of a crowd, but we will soon move north again and be ahead of it.

The next day, Tuesday, turned out to be really interesting once we came across a family, the "3 Bears". The father had a bad sprain and wanted to leave, the mother and son wanted to continue on. After Pam gave him some first aid foot wrapping care, we decided to let him walk out with us. What an interesting story he had! Long story short: at age 12 in Mexico he became a Buddhist monk, after many many years he wanted to explore the "normal life", he was practicing at a monestary near Mt. Shasta when he met his wife, barely spoke english, but ended up marrying, having 6 children (now ages 20-30), moving to Utah, and now tried to be on board with his wifes dream to hike to PCT. Together they realized she should continue and he should retuen to Salt Lake City. Nonethess, the 7 miles was very enjoyable due to the fascinating conversation.

The bummer about that day is that my knee decided to take a crap on me. I have to say it really pissed me off because I had had 2 weeks of rest and was feeling great and ready to go. There is something definitly wrong with it, but so far it is bearable. Ibuprophin and glucosamine are now part of my daily diet.

Yesterday we finished the 10 mile section from Warner Springs to Barrel springs. I wasn't sure how I would hold up, but it turned out to be a very flat, easy, and beautiful stretch. We saw 12 people that day. One of them was Vimal, one of my AmeriCorps members from last year! It was fun and funny to see him. He was sitting under an oak tree as we approached and when I squinted to see who it was I shouted "Vimal?" We chatted for a few minutes, compared blister stories, documented the event and then went our separate ways.

Tomorrow we start sectioning the 300 miles we skipped (due to snow) from HWY 74 near Anza to Agua Dulce.

The last section we had done before our 2 week rest was from Agua Dulce to HWY 138 at Hikertown. Let me tell you, that section I found to be quite enjoyable. Saw 4 Mojave Greens (rattle snakes) one of which I obliviously stepped right over and wouldn't have noticed if Pam hadn't yelled "Snake!". There was also a huge (5-6 foot long) Diamond Back at the3 spring box at Bear Spring. This fella was carefully gaurding the water source and made his presence known with persistant rattling. Luckily we discovered the pipes fed out of the spring box could be taken apart to get our bottles full. After that, we also discover a full trough on the down hill side of the trail!

Hikertown ended up being an experience in itself. Imagine a tiny, old west town. There are several shed sized building all with an old west theme and decor. It turns out that the owner, is an eccentric retired movie producer with a collection of old movie props and set components.

When we arrived we were greeted by Bob, the caretaker, and soon after to Richard Skaggs, the owner. We immediately hit it off and were soon beijg driven to Lancaster for a mini shopping spree. The next day, Saturday, Richard was going to host a bbq where guests included the local town council, the Duke and Duchess of Manchester, an ex-2nd-in-command from the Russian KGB, and us a couple of grubby hikers. It ended up being a very interesting weekend. Pam was dubbed "Mrs. Clean" her new trail name, because she immediately set to cleaning and tidying and preparing food for the festivities.

The story of how Hikertown came to be is worth sharing. Richard bought the property in the rural Antelope Valley as an investment because he heard of a propsal for a new town, "Centenial", to be developed. In the meantime it would serve as a quiet getaway for him and his wife. Not too long after he had purchased the property, he was having a quoet weekend at the ranch when he awoke one morning to a tent city in his yard. Of course he walked out and asked the squatters to be mindful of his property rights and expressed his concern over the liability. One man stepped forward and offered an apology and explanation on behalf of the rest of the group. Apparently the previous landowner, who was now deceased had an agreement to allow PCT hikers a place to rest and refill H2O. Richard decided he would be willing to install several spigots at the edge of his property and fences to keep them out. This seemed fair. It was the following summer when one day he and his wife were enjoying a vat of homemade lemonade and an afternoon bbq, that the gate swung open and up walked a Japanese hiker. The wife, being somewhat on the spot offered a cool cup of lemonade and a hot dog. The crowd on the other side of the fence gazed with longing. She soon waived them all in and was hosting a hiker picnic. She found these unusual characters to be quite fascinating with diverse backgrounds and representing all corners of the earth. It was this day that inspired her to recognoze there place as a unique gem and to use it partially as a refuge for these nomads. The "junk" that she had been imploring Richard to get rid of was soon used as the inspiration and structural backbone of Hikertown. The funniest part is that now, because she recognized a need for a shower room and kitchen, Richard's Ferrari is left to stick part way out of the garage with the door resting on the trunk!

Pam has had a steroid injection into her foot to help with a neuroma and has an orthotic to wear that seems to help with the discomfort. Now if my knee will start to mend we will be happy campers! My feet still look pretty gross. No longer raw hamburger, but lots of rough dry yucky calluses and a few reoccuring blisters. Ahh! What we put our bodies through for a little bit of "fun" :)

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Pause

I have to admit the last nine days have been rather interesting and initially somewhat challenging for the fixed mindset I had unintentionally developed regarding this journey. Luckily, with plenty of time to reflect it didn't take long for me to be reminded that adaptability and embracing the unexpected is really what this time is all about.

As of Thursday, April 7th, Pam and I had 12 days and just over 150 miles under our belt. As far as "where" we anticipated being according to our initial itinerary we were pretty much right on track. We had collectively decided that once we reached or days end, we would bypass the San Jacinto's for the time being due to considerable "winter weather conditions". Instead we would hitch a ride and push on through further north near the Mojave and continue to have better access to the relatively limited desert water sources.

At this point my feet were healing up and my body getting into the groove. I had taken up using a set of trekking poles which I swore up and down I would loathe, but ended up becoming a dedicated convert to.
I was feeling totally jazzed and commited to pushing through the literal ups and downs. Pam on the other hand was going through an entirely different experience. Her blisters had her in agony and at about 2:00 on Thursday after seemingly endless meandering switch backs skirting the entire circumference of the town we were headed for, Pam had a moment where she was not only ready to call it a day, but was considering calling off the trip altogether. This happens on this trail and is in no way meant to reflect poorly. As Pam said herself, she was not having fun, she was in considerable pain and there is no reason for this experience to be hell. Luckily I convinced her that by my calculations we should be reaching our anticipated destination at 3:00. I must admit I am soooo glad I was right because I may not be here to share this right now if the highway crossing was any further off. LOL! ;)

We got to Pines to Palms HWY 74 and started sticking our thumbs out with great eagerness to get to the promised "L" for "Lodging" referenced in our PCT data book. Only about 20 cars passed us before a guy named Dave picked us up. He was very helpful and willing to veer off HWY 74 to 371 and head about 7 miles to the town of Anza. To put it mildly, we are still trying to determine what "lodging" actually refers to, because there was not a single motel, cabin, or anything of the sort. Anza is certainly a rural town, but hosts a couple of gas stations, restaurants, stores, etc. So lodging would not have been out of place. After making an inquiry to some of the local folks we found out that the only option nearby would be to camp at the local RV park. The irony of this is that much earlier in the day we had crossed a dirt jeep road with a fantastic water cache nearby that had a hand scrawled note directing hikers to the very same RV park only 6 miles away (compared to the 8 plus we hiked to the highway and the other 7-10 we drove to get there). Oh, but c'est la vie.

We did a little reconnaissance at the RV park thanks to Dave, only to find the office closed for the day. Fortunatly the proprieters of the onsite store gave us the phone number for the RV park management. In the meantime we had Dave drive us back into town to drop our weary and HUNGRY butts off at the local "Diner 371".

While pigging out on burgers and fries we began to discuss our strategy for the ride back to the park. I ended up approaching an elderly couple, Leroy and Betty, who kindly shared their life story and their vehicle with two stinky ladies. Leroy had been (and technically still was) a pilot and a unicyclist (maybe no longer for that). He carried an image of himself as a younger man riding a 15 foot high unicycle. Betty was the epitomy of old lady- resembling a babushka in every way other than her very tall stature. She had lots to share about the diverse personalities and looks of her litter of grandchildren.

From Thursday evening through the following Wednesday morning, Pam and I became better aquainted with our hobo lifestyle and trailor park living. The first night was spent camped out in a small patch of grass. We awoke in the morning to snow. We knew it was cold and rainy, but had no idea the snow level would hit the lower elevation. Our tent and sleeping bags proved to be well worth the expense and weight in our packs, because they kept us perfectly warm and dry. We did take the offer from the "Donna's" (the 2 co-managers) to relocate to the park rec room where we set our tent up in the middle of the floor. From that point on we were introduced to a local park resident and maintenance man, Larry, who became one of our many angels of the week. Larry was our self appointed pretector and chauffer. A talkative, retired Las Vegas cop with a true sense of purpose when it came to serving hikers. Being the first of the season, staying the longest, and likely being of the female breed must have been to our advantage and inspired Larry to accomodate and shuffle us around and take us to places to eat as far as Temecula.

On Friday soon after we set up our indoor camp we were inundated by a lively little family. Viki, 12 year old son Jay and dog Utah swept in with an intense level of energy. We had actually heard about them in Mt. Laguna where they had passed thru a day or so before us, then apparently we got ahead of them and left hours before their arrival at Warner Springs. They too were planning to bypass the San Jacintos and were looking for a ride to Idyllwild. These folks were from Iowa (or was it Ohio?) and had plans of hiking north to Ashland. Of course Larry stepped up to the plate and offered them a ride over the mountain. Pam and I decided to tag along and pick up a box we had awaiting us at the post office. The drive to Idyllwild proved that we had all made the best choice to avoid the snowy conditions. The rumor was that all hikers were avoiding that section for the time being

Other folks we met included Mike and crew at the diner. These guys work on restoring vintage cars. Mike travels to Anza every other month from DC and had a little Toyota Corolla he offered for us to use for a day and a half. The Donna's I mentioned included one who had been a chef for some major celebs, had a son that was killed in Vietnam, was a devout christian woman and baked Pam and I our own mini peanut butter pies when she was baking others for the church potluck. The other Donna was a tiny little spitfire that drives a huge dodge dually, is mother to a tiny pomeranian named Lacy, is on the prowl for a sugar daddy (she's in her 80's mind you) and who was gearing up for an Alaskan cruise with her pal Barbara. Barbara is the wife of Earl. They are both residents of the RV park and decided to retire there after they had enjoyed many summers there with their camper club. They were very friendly, invited us into their home and shared some stories and cold beverages with us.

One might be wondering, as I was at first, "Why are you spending so much time at this trailor park, aren't you supposed to be on a hike?" Well, Pam had decided 1) she needed a break, but more importantly 2) she needed her husband Jack to come relocate us further north on the trail and 3) have Jack bring her some different gear to swap out. Because of Jack's work schedule the soonest he could get to us would be the following week, today to be exact. Therefore, we had lots of time (nine days) to get antsy. I have to admit the first couple of days were somewhat mentally challenging when I started analyzing the halt in our progress, but after indulging in the warm hearted kindness of strangers and an unexpected rendez vous with Ron, it turned out to be a very enjoyable week.

Ron moved us north to be closer to our starting point for our next stretch of trail. We moved from trailor park living in Anza to Marriot Suite luxury and suburban shopping centers in Santa Clarita. Definitely not what I had anticipated during the long months of planning this trip, but an adventure nonetheless.

Jack has finally arrived. Our resupply boxes are reconfigured, blisters relatively healed, body possibly over rested, and soul ready for the next stretch through the Mojave.

The trail-less part of this journey has reminded me of the power of adaptability and letting go of the overthinking ego. We have encountered a freakish year with record snow pack that has promised to be a challenge to anyone that planned a thru-hike. The only way to not feel defeat over the next several months is to take one step at a time. Pam and I are both willing to approach this hike as it unfolds. We are willing and even adament about avoiding any unneccessary risk and have actually begun to recognoze the true advantage of skipping around different sections of this vast trail to best suit our skill and the conditions that are out of our control.

One more night of cable tv and off to the trailhead in Agua Dulce tomorrow.

Un-pause.

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Hiking to Raise Money for CASA of Humboldt!

Sonja and Pam are hiking to raise awareness for CASA of Humboldt. To find out how to sponsor them and support this noble organization, please click the link below.

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/pbellah/cross-country-hike

Week 1 Recap

It took a week in the wild and a retreat back to civilization to give me the time I needed to begin to figure out how to use this fancy phone technology to keep this Blog updated. So here it goes. Please pardon the spelling as this tiny keyboard and no spell check are my handicap.

Yesterday was our 7th day on the trail. We have covered 80 miles, with just over 5 miles being our shortest and 18 miles being our longest day. We started off strong on Day 1, clocking about 13.5 miles to just above Hauser Creek. We had considered pushing through to Lake Morena park, but decided not to get too brutal. As Pam says, "this isn't a death march!"

The first night we encountered a border patrol helicopter close enough to throw a rock at. The pilot recognized us as non-aliens I guess and waived. A bit later, 3 border patrol officers walking down the trail stopped to check us out and gave us some (not so helpful) advice on where the trail was for the next day. Throughout the night sounds of ATV's echoed through the canyon, but we were assured that "illegal" traffic had been slow and that we should be safe, especially because we chose to camp above the creek which was next to a road.

The next day, Day 2 got really interesting. Long story short: a series of criss crossing jeep trails, convoluted documentation of the road systems on our map, poorly marked trail, and less than clear advice the night before found us hoofing it off trail to Lake Morena County park. The distance and changes in elevation were about what we would have expected had we been on trail, but the frustration lead to less than ideal morale. It is amazing how ones mental challenges can be compounded in the body. When we finally made it to the campground we were delighted to find hot showers and soft grass to pitch our tent. We also indulged in a sweet, cold, ice cream treat at the local market where we had the priveledge of meeting "Hiker Bill". "Hiker Bill" had the distinct aroma of heavy drinking, but nonetheless had plenty of helpful info to share with us about the trail ahead. He is a seasoned PCT officionado and has logged over 7,000 miles.

Day 3 ended up being drastically more leisurely. We logged just under 6 miles and decided to stay put at our afternoon rest stop at Boulder Oaks Campground. The campground was technically closed, but we stayed anyway. Carrie and Lyle, a couple we had crossed paths with a few times before, were passing our camp and stopped to talk for awhile. They were doing a section hike from Campo to Mt. Laguna. We also encountered an unidentifiable motorcylcist and a group of kids running through the camp (apparently we were not far from the local highschool). I think the biker may have caused a little nightimeapprehension because Pam woke up thinking she heard people outside our tent. I crawled out of the tent with flashlight in one hand and pistol in pocket just to be sure and luckily it was just some ordinary nocturnal critters making a statement about their territory being borrowed.

Days 4 through 7 included an 18 mile day, an overnight and resupply pickup at Laguna Mountain Lodge, a peaceful camp at Pioneer Mail trailhead, a windy night in Upper Chariot Canyon, a mean eastward up and down skirting of the Anza Borego desert, and finally ending up at the bone dry San Felipe Creek.

It was enroute to our planned destination of San Felipe Creek or possibly even 5 or so miles beyond, that Pam came down with a bad case of painful blisters. This, coupled with no water sources for the next 23 miles of trail beyond San Felipe prompted us to make the call to take advantage of the nearby Hwy 78 and county road S2 to hitchhike to Warner Springs where our next resupply was awaiting us. We plan to finish the missed 30 miles later on.

Poor Pam was miserable. As we walked to the junction of S2, we devised our hitching strategy. We would not ride with 2 men (sorry guys to be sexist), I would sit in the back seat with my fanny pack on (if you know what I mean) just in case, etc. Etc. We ended up getting a ride from a very kind state employee that I promised not to rat out. She did make it an official pickup by calling dispatch to let them know she was "transporting 2 PCT hikers to Warner Springs to receive medical attention". Many thanks to her.

Needless to say, we ended up holing up at the Warner Springs Ranch Resort. A funky yet expansive hot spring resort with a foot-healing-hot-spring-fed sulfury pool. Therefore today, Day 8 was spent soaking, exploring the grounds and learning to use my phone.

The trail can indeed seem a little "mean spirited" as some of the books said it would, the poor feet have taken a real beating (blisters are popping up in places I have NEVER seen them before), and surprisingly our appetites have been nonexistant (we have had to force ourselves to choke down our meals to keep our energy up and I still lost 5 lbs already), but all in all each day has been full of adventure, introspection and achievement. Also on the plus side, the weather has been relatively mild, most of the water sources have been more than reliable, the desert blooms have been breathtaking, and the folks along the way have been eager and supportive of us.

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Alive and Well

I had the pleasure of speaking to Sonja yesterday afternoon from the PCT! She was in great spirits and had only positive things to say about her experience thus far. Sure, she's only on Day 3, but she traversed 13 miles on Day 1. Very impressive! I don't think she'd be offended by me saying she is somewhat of a Luddite when it comes to technology. She invested in a new phone before her journey began, but seems to have lost ALL of her contacts form her old phone. So if you are reading this entry, please take the time to email Sonja at sonjarita @ gmail. com to give her your coordinates. I am thrilled to report that other than some unusually formed blisters (side of heels, bottom of toes) and a slight hitch in navigation on Day 2, (they're planning to hike on a rest day to make up for lost mileage) all is well!

Separation Anxiety

Today was filled with bittersweet goodbyes, but I guess it really started 2 days ago when I drove 2 hours to Crescent City to drop Queenie off with Kim. I knew the time was nearing, so each day up until then I found myself near tears (and sometimes actually wiping them out of my eyes) and in awe of my 4 legged family members. I wanted to capture and hold each silly and sweet image of them with me, if not forever, at least for the next 6 months. I am always amazed at how my critters seem to live in harmony. Like any doting pet owner, I cherish their quirks and excuse their nuisances. They have been there for me, especially in the last several months to console me and tease out smiles even in my darkest moments. I have grown so attached to my "stolen" Queenie and am so proud at her accomplishments, but somehow it was when I dropped Foxy Lu-Lu off with my parents that it all really came to a head. Foxy has been through thick and thin with me over the past 6 years and although only a tiny 4 lbs, she has showered me with tons of love and adoration.

We sat together on the couch at my parents house saying our goodbyes, but there she only seemed to magnify rather than protect me from the additional separation and abandonment that I have been denying. I am happy, excited and proud that my parents and sister and brother-in-law are embarking on their own great journey and adventure, but I would be lying if I didn't admit that, especially due to the tumultuous relationship that has evolved, that I don't feel a sense of abandonment and betrayal.  I guess it is hard to think that my family of origin has disbanded and will no longer be found where it always belonged. They are leaving and I am getting left behind. The home with memories will soon be filled with someone elses joys and sorrows. Somehow I feel responsible, like if I was something more or someone better, they wouldn't feel the drive to disappear, uproot and "start all over". Somehow when I hear my mother say, "There are too many sad memories", I feel that she is directing her words toward me for not representing an ideal that she holds more dear than the reality of who "I really am".

I wish my family the best and am grateful for the Aunties, Uncles, Cousins and Grandparents that remain to cheer me on and be my "home" when I get back. And who knows, maybe a road trip to North Carolina after my great "walk about" will be exactly the medicine my family needs to heal old wounds and begin a new chapter of this crazy life.

I will miss Foxy Lu-Lu, Queenie, Lena and even the chickens so much, but I know they will be in good hands and will be eager for my love when I return.

Anticipation

For most of the day I have been experiencing that stomach churning feeling like I used to get on the first day of school, or when getting ready for a first date. It must be the anticipation of the unknown that lies ahead. I feel excited yet concurrently deeply overwhelmed. Am I ready? Am I biting off more than I can chew? Am I indulging in selfish fantasies that should be kept to rest in my imagination. Perhaps.

I suppose this mild anxiety that is coupled with great eagerness is ultimately a testament to how profound the journey already is without even having set foot on the trail yet. The amount of preparation and planning have been amazing, but up until recently quite surreal. I guess it was after wrapping up a huge work project a week ago that it finally really "hit me".

And then there is the thunder... I am sitting in the comfort of my cozy little house, the heater blazing, a hot bath seconds away, my critters nestled close and I think, "My god, if today were two weeks from now it would be a thin layer of nylon and some capilene underwear separating me from that storm". And at some point in the next 5 months that is exactly what will be.