Pacific Crest Trailside Reader

We came upon this frog after a long, dry stretch of trail. It wasn’t until we sat and began filtering water that I noticed him sitting patiently, blending perfectly into the rock. He sat motionless as I moved closer to place him precisely in the frame. He reminded me of the beauty of the small and the still, and of the importance of quiet attention.

Chris and Anna are thru-hiking in the Class of 2012. You can follow their blog at http://mexicotocanada.com/ Chris has some of the most wonderful photos of the trail as a part of their blog and his photography website: http://chrisalexanderphoto.com/. We will continue to periodically post some of Shutterbug’s images.

May 29

Day 21: The Things They Carried

Tim O’Brien’s critically acclaimed retrospective on the Vietnam War has influenced the titles of two recent posts (see also the May 11 story). I love Dorothy’s (aka Bacon Bit) concluding comment that we all have non-functional items that really don’t count against the base pack weight of life. Bacon Bit is thru-hiking in 2012 and you can follow her journey at http://dorothyspctblog.blogspot.com/ … as she does handstands along the way. You have to love her positive, upbeat spirit.

If I remember right, that’s the title of a book or short story that we read in one of Ms. Ruth Michaud’s high school English classes. I don’t remember it well, but I know the title referred to the personal items that soldiers kept with them during times of war. This is not a war, but we have those kinds of things on trail, too. And on today’s easy breezy hike, I was thinking about mine.

But first I must explain that many of us know what each item in our pack weighs to the tenth of an ounce. We carry as little as we are comfortable with. My base weight (without food, fuel, and water) is around 17 pounds. I have sent home extra socks, my mug and replacement mug, my belt, the lid to my pot (made one of foil), an extra sports bra, insoles, extra batteries, extra bandages, Tylenol, an emergency blanket, the Data Book, my journal, and a T-shirt. All of this to shed ounces that turn into pounds. And yet, I carry a handful of items of no physical use and would never consider sending them home. Here they are:

I have two gorgeous and unnecessary stuff sacks that a friend got in Guatemala. I love the colors, and I use them to store my electronics, which are not so beautiful. I think it gives them better energy. I also keep my mp3 player in a small Jazzercise sack that my Jazzercise ladies gave me. I don’t need any of these sacks really, but they make me happy when I see them. My store-bought stuff sacks are great, but they have no meaning.

I have ribbons clipped to the outside of my bag with an alligator clip. The clip is from Jazzercise. The ribbons were on a gift from Ann Maureen Scully, one of the female rangers I work with and deeply admire. They are what I hope this trip will be — light, bright, happy, colorful, and springing with energy.

I have a dead mouse from my late kitty, Scout. That stuffed mouse has been killed too many times to count. Scouters was my little boy and my best bud. He was a little over a year old when he was hit and had just turned from the cute runt with huge paws into a handsome, althletic, full-grown cat. I still miss him terribly and find myself replaying all moments up to finding him in the road. When the going gets rough, I reach into my pocket and squeeze that mouse. Scout and I had a shared passion for the outdoors.

And last but not least, I have the written word. A couple of poems, cards, and quotes from friends. Two letters from my mate. (Who, it turns out, has a wise old 80-year-old inside him, too; and this side comes out in letters. The wise old 80-year-old lady inside me is also in love.) All of these I turn to as needed or reflect upon as I hike down the trail lost in thought. I have read most of them enough that I can just pull out lines and turn them over in my mind. There is plenty of time to think out here.

We all have things like this in our life … little bits and pieces that usually have no monetary value or physical purpose, but that we would never get rid of. The values are intangible and cannot be measured. They do not count against the base pack weight of life. For they are what make the burden bearable.

May 25

The Palm of God

At 10:00, just as I reached the treeline, I stopped for my morning snack. While eating, I was admiring the wonderful view and the fact that for the first time in three days, the mosquitoes had vanished. As I was finishing my snack, I noticed clouds started rolling in over the ridge. “Uh oh,” I thought. “More storms?” Even though the clouds were just beginning to appear, I had a decision to make. Should I pitch a shelter and possibly have to wait all day until the storm materializes, and possibly waste an entire day of hiking? Or should I attempt the pass and hope for the best. I decided on the latter, figuring it was only 10:00, and the storm would probably arrive later in the afternoon.

As I climbed the mountain, I kept careful watch on the clouds. Sure enough, more and more began to accumulate and they created dramatic bomb like plumes over the surrounding peaks. Sonora Pass seemed just fine. Bright blue skies were shining above me and the views were spectacular. I began to grow increasingly uncomfortable though, when I noticed the trail made no descent as far as the eye could see. The trail simply followed the side of the ridge above treeline for miles.

At this time, the clouds began darkening, and I could see rain falling on distant peaks. I began running through storm scenarios in my mind, confident that the trail had to start descending soon. No such luck. It was around 11:30 am and I was still hiking the ridge. Then I heard a sound that sent shivers down my spine. The first crash of thunder. On top of the ridge, it didn’t seem to roll. It was like someone dropping a tray of plates, glasses, and silverware to the floor. “Shit” I thought. “I’ve got to get off this ridge!” My sunny skies quickly began to collapse on me, as dark clouds closed in from all sides. CRASH! Another clap of thunder. I started to jog slightly as my mind continued to process my options. I was quickly running out of time. Once again, I witnessed a wall of water falling across the valley heading in my direction. I began running down the trail but there was simply nowhere to go. The storm was going to overtake me within minutes and I was stuck up on the ridge.

Just then, I noticed there were small pine bushes to my left that formed the perfect cave. At these altitudes, the bushes grew just a few feet off the ground and very close together. I saw a huge streak of lightning to my west followed by a deafening crash of thunder. “Get off the mountain!!” my mind screamed. If I could have jumped, I probably would have. I had 30 seconds to make a run for it, or hunker-down in the bush. Another giant streak of lightning, this time even closer. “Get in the bush,” my mind ordered. I dropped my pack, grabbed my rain gear and ground pad, and crawled into the bush. It was the most amazing place I’ve been on the trail. It was like crawling into the palm of God. The bush formed the perfect shelter. I assumed the lightning drill position and said a prayer. “This might be the end!” I couldn’t help feeling. All of a sudden, the winds simply began to howl overhead. It was like a jet plane flying two feet over my head. Rain came down in torrents and hail pummeled the mountainside. Lightning and thunder crashed all around me. While I sat snug in “The Palm of God,” my only regret was that I could not see the storm rage around me.

Then, as if someone flipped a switch, the rain and hail stopped. It was over in 15 minutes. I sat in the bush a little while longer waiting for the clouds to move further east. As I emerged from the bush and saw blue skies to the west, I couldn’t help but let out a victory howl. I made it. I survived! I finished the rest of the pass feeling high as a kite. My hike had been resurrected from the depths of mosquito hell. That evening, I was blessed with a rainbow while standing atop Sonora Peak. Maybe I’ll make it to Canada after all…

May 23

May 21

The Pearl Girls - Snakes on the Plain

The Pearl Girls continued their quest north from Mt. Laguna in this third installment of their story. Aside from the cold spring weather, the next big challenge is in the San Jacintos. It was not so much a snow-bound Fuller Ridge, but a chance encounter with rattlesnakes on the endless descent down to Snow Creek Canyon. A recent discussion on the PCT-L suggested that thru-hikers encounter between 4 – 20 snakes on typical walk north. Although most snakes live in the arid lands of Southern California south of Kennedy Meadows, the Feather River, the Hat Creek Rim, and other lower elevations are home to the slithering reptiles.

We headed out to Sunrise Highway from Desert View walking through a little snow and ice on the trail as we exited Mt. Laguna. It was still pretty cold about 38 degrees. We started climbing right away and continued to see incredible views of the desert below. The trail led up to views of Garnet Peak and Oriflamme Mountain. Before long we were at Pioneer Mail Trailhead picnic area. On the way we walked through an expansive burned area. It was a very photogenic area. After lunch we climbed up on an old road with spectacular views overlooking the desert. There were a few monuments carved in the rocks and we thought maybe it was to honor some hang gliders or something like that because you could see that it would be a windy place for jumping off this huge cliff.

We were blown around for most of the rest of the hike. It was so windy in places that we were staggering against the wind to stay on the trail. About 3 miles from the end of our hike, along came my husband (“Stagecoach”). He was pretty cold too from fighting the wind in the 40 degree temps. But pretty soon we were back at the van and another 11.5 miles of the trail completed.

My friends and I had quite an experience with a rattlesnake coming down from Fuller Ridge in the San Jacinto Mountains on the way to the fountain at the bottom of those endless switchbacks going down into the canyon.

We had stopped to have a quick dinner because we figured we were a ways from the bottom and didn’t want to cook in the dark again. Just as I got up to start down the trail, which was only wide enough for your two feet with boulders on one side and steep drop-offs on the other, I heard that unmistakable rattling and hissing of a rattlesnake warning me not to come any closer. I retreated and told the others that there was a very large rattlesnake just ahead. Well, that guy was not going to move. We rolled small rocks at it. We pounded the ground with our hiking sticks but he just would not move and if we did, he started hissing and rattling. We needed to get down the rest of the mountain as it was getting darker by the minute, so we jumped around and did everything we could to make this guy move. Finally after about 15 or 20 minutes of this, he started slowly slithering off up into the rocks but continued to rattle and hiss. We very slowly walked by as he continued to move up the rocks but he kept his eyes on us.

We did not get to the bottom until it was quite dark. We went to set up our tents and sure enough heard the rattle and hiss of another rattler. So we got way away from that one and ended up pitching our tents far enough away but practically on top of each other because there wasn’t very much flat, clear ground there. We had quite a laugh that night about our ornery snake and happy to finally be done with those switchbacks and on to more experiences the following day.