Day 47: Mile 566.5 – 587.4

It was definitely hard to leave the comfort of my king bed at the Marriott. Clare, Rory, and I got an Uber to trail at 6am, and all of us were talking about how nice it was to just relax yesterday. It definitely helped me feel physically better arriving to trail this morning, with no obvious aches or pains.

The day, of course, started with a climb. Unfortunately, our packs were full of food for five days and water for a 17 mile water carry. Luckily for us, there was a strong breeze and it really wasn’t hot.

We steadily climbed up from the highway, passing by Joshua trees and getting views of the unending desert. I listened to two Townes van Zandt albums, and really enjoyed how the music complemented the landscape I was in. Obviously, “Pancho and Lefty,” but I also loved “Lonesome Tune,” and “Honky Tonkin.” His voice helped the climb go by quickly and memorably.

The landscape changed to remind me more of the high-desert— sagebrush and juniper trees. It was reminiscent of the deserts of Eastern Oregon, which was much different than the desert we just came from.

Once we made it to around eleven miles for the day, Rory and I stopped for a break under a large tree. Some other hikers were there and shared some homemade cookies with us. I ate a delicious cheese and tofurky bagel sandwich from ingredients that I packed out. I figured I won’t get to do that anymore in the Sierras since that won’t fit in my bear can, so I decided to live it up.

The afternoon held a road walk on a OHV road, which didn’t feel the best. There were lots of rocks and curvy sections, and it was very exposed to the sun. After that, though, the desert was really beautiful and pleasant. We were lucky that the temperatures were relatively low, because it could’ve been much hotter.

I took my second big break at Golden Oaks Spring. My endurance is noticeably increasing, and I’m taking way fewer breaks. But honestly, in order to walk 20+ miles at the pace that’s comfortable for me, I can only take a a few breaks per day anyways. It was nice and cool at the spring, and good to fill up on water and see everyone in the group.

There were still lots of windmills hiking around the mountains to get to our campsite. Above the windmills were some awesome sheer cliffs, which were difficult to capture on camera since the afternoon light casted dark shadows on them.

I made it to camp at 6pm, which is ideal for me. I cooked ramen and set up my cowboy camp in the “girl’s room,” the flat spot where Clare, Candy Crush, and Mercedes were staying. I’m really feeling close to this group, and happy that I’ve found really good friends to rely on.

The landscape is changing, not necessarily to be less desert-like, but certainly more epic and larger-scale, which in a way is a sort of preview for the Sierras. The excitement is definitely growing for the next section, and I’m feeling good.

Day 48: Mile 587.4 – 610.4

Waking up early, the sound of the windmills was incredibly loud after taking out my earplugs. It made me think of turning on a big fan in the room for white noise, but ten times the effect.

I hiked out of camp with Rory at six, and passed under the cool cliffs, this time with the light hitting them directly.

In the morning, I feel like my thoughts are the clearest and I’m able to have meaningful time to reflect on things. I thought about how unreasonable it is to expect that the PCT would be different than real life, in the sense that you could be just as negative and disconnected as you would working a job and living in the “real world.” Sure, the constant exposure to the natural world helped, but I think it’s definitely a slippery slope if you’re not careful. Your brain could easily turn this experience into a grind, only about making miles and taking the beauty for granted. I wanted to make the conscious choice to move through this experience intentionally and present.

I’m a big fan of the high desert, which made this section highly enjoyable, with lots of sagebrush and grasses.

Unfortunately, I had a new blister forming, which made walking very painful. There were some unexpected and unpleasant climbs early in the day, just super steep and not well-graded, but I pushed myself to not take a break until I had hit ten miles for the day.

I took a break with Rory and Clare under a big tree. We called it “tea party,” since Rory, from the UK, was desperately craving a good cuppa but made coffee instead. I guess morale was pretty low, because we started ranking the best and worst ways to perish on the PCT. It was fun to laugh and be ridiculously morbid with the two of them.

The hiking really wasn’t easy today. It was hot, the blister was hurting, and motivation felt low. I was just so sick of being hot.

We hit the 600 mile marker though! Clare and I had a good conversation about how things on the PCT still keep feeling hard for us because the bar keeps getting pushed higher and higher. Every time our bodies adapt to hiking the mileage, we just keep pushing it farther— two weeks ago we walked under twenty miles consistently, last week we did twenties, and this week we were pushing up to twenty-two! It was important to be compassionate towards myself about that, and remember that I was doing an insane amount of physical exertion. It felt hard because it was!

I took a short break at Robin Bird Spring, but kept it snappy in order to get to camp. The trail was another rocky, exposed road walk, and then suddenly transitioned to a beautiful ponderosa forest. The trail was gentle, and the surroundings smelled so fragrant with the vanilla ice cream scent of the pines. It felt like I was entering a whole new world! I knew that I would probably re-enter the desert again by going down in elevation, but that afternoon it really felt like I was getting close to the Sierras.

I hiked with Mercedes through this delightful trail, and we talked about our partners and about our homes. Hiking with others makes the last few miles, which are often the hardest, go by quickly. I arrived to camp at 6pm, and at the same time as the rest of the group, which felt really good! I made dinner, took care of my blisters, and actually got to hang out around the fire with everyone! Keith packed out marshmallows, which were such a treat!

Today was extremely difficult, but ended in a very positive way. Tomorrow would be challenging too, with a 22 miles water carry ahead of us. I tried to keep in mind my intention to try my best to be present and positive on trail, but it wasn’t always easy. The last bit of the desert was proving to be extremely challenging, and I was itching to enter the Sierras. That being said, saying goodbye to the desert meant leaving the known world of thru-hiking behind, and I knew that the Sierras would hold many uncertainties. I went to bed under tall trees and stars with these thoughts on my mind.

Day 49: Mile 610.4 to 632

It was cold in the morning, waking up at a higher elevation amongst the stars and trees. I made a hot coffee as a treat while people in the group got ready. Hiking out this morning meant saying goodbye to the forest we had just reached to go back down to the desert below. I could see the landscape transition from ponderosa pines, to sagebrush, and finally Joshua trees.

I was feeling okay, just dealing with that new, painful blister from yesterday. It’s funny how when one problem goes away, another pops up to take its place.

I turned a corner, and started seeing some really great, snow-capped mountain views. I was able to pick out Mount Langley from the bunch, the first fourteener we had seen on trail! It was really special to see, and share that moment alongside Rory and Nate.

I cruised down to the water cache, the desert floor coming closer and closer, with its cacti, Joshua trees, and notably, its heat. There was a water cache to fill up at before starting the next extremely dry section of the trail, and I stopped there for a bit. I didn’t stop long, antsy to get going before things got really hot.

I began the slow tedious, walk out into a true desert. As far as I could see, it was just emptiness, with the exception of Joshua trees, both short and gangly. Listening to the silence of the desert, I felt as if this was the most “desert-y” desert that we had passed through in all 600 miles that we had walked so far.

Just about the time I was thinking of stopping, the heat getting to me, I turned the corner and ran into Clare, taking a break under a rock. She was in a really good mood, and was talking about how this experience was like saying one last farewell to the desert, to both its difficulties and its beauty. It made me feel better and more positive about the day. I couldn’t believe that after six weeks, we only had a few short days of this left.

There was a bit more climbing to do, but the views were stellar, with cool rocks and scraggly desert mountains. Once I was high enough, I was treated to more views of Langley.

I dipped down into a valley, and the wind died down, meaning that it got exponentially hotter. Joshua trees were no longer casting shade at high noon, and I was looking for a place to rest. After walking about a mile, I heard a voice call out from inside a Joshua tree, only to see Claire and Rory inside the shade taking a break. Even though I didn’t stay long, it made such a difference to eat and be off my feet for even 30 minutes.

I turned off airplane mode at a certain point when I crested around a hill, and got just a bar of LTE. The service brought me a Vrbo invite, which was from Isabel, who I saw booked a cabin in Kennedy Meadows for the weekend! It was a crazy surprise! She was coming to visit me! I felt so excited that not only was I ending the desert, but also seeing my favorite person before heading into the Sierras.

There was one last climb of the day, and Clare and I struggled up it. It’s hard to see all of my other friends blast off on the climbs, and know that I’m so much slower in comparison. I have so many doubts about whether I’ll be able to keep up in the Sierras. I do know, however, that I’m significantly more conditioned than I was six weeks ago, and that counts for a lot.

The climb was blue-green, full of sagebrush, and absolutely blasting with wind. I was pretty ready to be done, but I just shut my brain off and did it. Doing more than 20 miles per day is just plain hard.

Feet sore, feeling a little defeated after the tough day, I finally made it to the campsite at Bird Spring Pass, where there was a massive water cache. It was really windy though, and Clare and I barely found a sheltered spot, huddled right next to another hiker’s tent.

Tomorrow would be another early start, in order to beat the temperatures that were rising with each passing day. I felt better after eating and taking care of my blisters. I settled into my sleeping bag, which protected me from the wind as I cowboy camped beneath the stars. The Milky Way revealed itself for the first time since I had started. The only lights on the horizon were from the highway, the same one we had come from at the beginning of the section.

Day 50: Mile 632 – 652.5

I woke up at around 4am, being careful to be quiet to not wake my neighbors. The stars were out, and I wanted to get an early start to beat the heat and give myself enough time to take care of my blisters. By the time I took off to begin my ascent, it was 6am, and the sun was rising over the the never-ending desert, but not over me, thanks to the shadow of the mountain I had to climb.

It was quiet, cool, and peaceful hiking into the Kiavah Wilderness. I forgot how much I loved an early morning start in the desert. Appreciating the plants, the rocks, and the birdsong is easier when not under the beating sun. I chatted with Keith, who also started early, about how the Mojave was such an awe-inspiring desert, much bigger than anything we’d passed through. We talked about how beautiful the silence of the desert was. I knew that soon we’d be leaving it all behind, and it gave me a bittersweet feeling.

I slowly made my way up the mountain, and in good spirits. The views were incredible.

Once I crested the top, views of the Sierras came into view. Granite rocks, snow, Mount Langley, and way in the distance, Mount Whitney. Pride, excitement, and anticipation washed over me. We were getting closer and closer with every step we took.

Once I was over the hill, my left foot started hurting, a lot. It was swelling inside my shoe, my blisters rubbing on the sides of my shoe. For some reason, it was the most excruciating pain I had felt on trail so far. Every step was awful. I tried to push through to get out of the sun, but ended up stopping to take an ibuprofen and try desperately to wrap my blisters better. Basically all week, my feet have been in mild to moderate pain, and now it was bordering on extreme. It was psychologically challenging to be in so pain all of the time. It made me wonder if there would be a time when I wouldn’t be in pain on trail, and thinking about the possibility that my pain wouldn’t go away definitely made my thoughts go to a dark place. I plodded along, probably not even going more than a mile and half per hour. Thankfully, the trail was flat and forgiving as I waited for the ibuprofen to hit. I wasn’t really paying attention to the scenery— I was dissociating slightly, just not feeling good and trying to get through it.

I wanted to not feel so upset hiking. One of my coping mechanisms was to repeat to myself about how hard I had worked to make this, my dream of hiking the PCT, a reality. I repeated over and over, “Not having fun is not a good enough reason to quit.” I would get off trail if I wasn’t learning anything from it, but even this struggle was showing me something about myself, even though I wasn’t having a good time at all. I envisioned myself, Clare, and Rory at the monument in Canada. I was doing just about anything to turn my attitude around, and it was working. Even though my motivation was low, I was able to push through it and continue going.

The trail undulated through oak trees and skinny ponderosas, and then suddenly it connected to an OHV road, under an open sky surrounded by chapparal bushes. It was hot, probably about 85 degrees, and I was cursing the road walk, which was totally exposed to the sun and harder to traverse since it wasn’t well-graded. It was just tough day.

When I arrived to the spring and McIver Cabin, the predetermined lunch spot, morale was low. I felt overheated, upset, and exhausted. I took care of my feet, took another ibuprofen, and laid down for awhile, eating a bagel with peanut butter, horizontally. I listened to Keith and Mike play music on their mini guitars, and Keith was playing “I’ll Be Here in the Morning” by Townes Van Zandt. Slowly, with shade, food, music, and company, I started feeling better. I talked to Clare about what a hard day I was having, and heard from her and others that they were struggling too. Leaving the break about 90 minutes later, I set off with Rory and Clare in a better mood, knowing that I wasn’t alone in my struggles.

As the scenery became more forested getting closer to Walker Pass, the three of us reflected on our memories of the desert, with all of the highs and lows of the past few weeks. It was really heartening to think back on all we had been through together, and that even though the last week and a half has been particularly difficult, we had so many moments of laughter and fulfillment to look back on. It felt really nice to know that I was going into the Sierras with Clare and Rory.

Clare and I split off for a bit and had a good afternoon finishing the last few miles of the day together. It was starting to get so beautiful again! We were the first ones to arrive to camp at Walker Pass campground, and we set up our cowboy camp under a large Joshua tree. Mercedes and Candy Crush joined us, and we made the camp spot the “girl’s room” again. Once everyone was there, we ate dinner at the picnic tables, and hung out until the sun went down, after which everyone became extremely sleepy. I felt totally beat, but good and fulfilled after getting myself out of a slump and spending quality time with everyone.

I went to bed under the Joshua tree watching the stars begin lighting up the sky. Today was hard, and doing twenty miles a day is grueling. As difficult as it is, so much of the battle is fought in my own mind. I have to stop myself from feeling bad about being slower than others, or feeling like I don’t belong out here because it’s too hard or if I’m in pain. I’m doing an excellent job out here! I’m hiking twenty miles a day, and staying healthy, which is something to be extremely proud of! I think knowing the role that mindset plays in having a successful thru-hike will be crucial for making it through the Sierras and beyond.

Next up is a short stop to the town of Ridgecrest to resupply for our two-day journey to Kennedy Meadows. I’m motivated to make it a speedy town visit, just because I want to make sure I’m in Kennedy Meadows when Isabel arrives on Saturday.

Thanks for reading and sticking with me, even through the days where I’m writing less about the scenery and more about the trials and tribulations of a thru-hiker. It means the world to me to know people are supporting me back at home.

Until next time!