Jenny's PCT Walk for Jake

Shout out for Jake!

2011-09-04T09:12:00.001-07:00

Dear followers and blog "lurkers,"

While I did not organize a formal fundraiser this year, I was inspired to keep going because of Jake French! I have had a whole year to rest up for this journey, but Jake has been working hard every day to walk again. If you want to donate to the Jake French Fund, to help support Jake, a quadriplegic, in his journey to learn to walk again, please visit: www.3ptbenders.com and fill out a form to donate towards Jake's therapy.

To learn more about Jake, visit: www.jakefrenchinspires.com.

Jake, thanks for the inspiration!

Stashing trail magic at McKenzie Pass, OR,
Sticky

Crater Lake Rim - Mile 328!

2011-09-03T13:44:00.000-07:00

The finish line, Day 17

The 30-mile leash - Day 16

2011-09-03T13:36:00.000-07:00

While packing for this trip, I already knew I wouldn't be lounging with tiny umbrella cocktails on white beaches. I knew I would be sweating and, figuratively speaking, on a straight goal-setting trajectory come bone-chilling snow or high water.

I was feeling better on our departure from Ashland; a proper zero day on my belt, and fresh feet to charge the dusty, lackluster trail toward Crater Lake. I was prepared for 25-mile days back to back, but after an evening stroll out of town with 'Sags,' I found myself already past my mileage on night one. The 'set-up' as I will call it, brought a breakfast at Crater Lake Rim fully with reach, and unleashed the madness for more and more miles.

Day 15 was a nearly a full marathon at 25.5, camping in the duff next to slate-colored lava rock. From there Happy JO told me I was only 60 miles from the rim, with two huge waterless stretches separating us from the end. The animal was born--I used the waterless sections of the Oregon desert to enable us into our first and only 30-mile day of the trip.

We were up at 5:15am on Day 16. Happy JO rolled back the tarp as I taped my toes and heels like every other day so far. We downed our granola and powdered milk, and began the death march --two water stops that day and a guaranteed third only if I made it the full 30. I was already nervous, siked out by my own ridiculous goal-setting. How quickly the thru-hiker mentality returns.

At lunch I downed my last 5-hour energy, and a few espresso beans. Physically I was drained, my legs hanging from my torso like a rag doll, but mentally I had begun to focus on nothing else but the miles. It took me back to ultramarathon days: worn down, thirsty, and in pain, but never losing focus on the finish line. The hours whizzed past, Happy JO and I ceased any talk. We were aiming for the distance and zenned out like two silent monks, unable to even contemplate a meaningful conversation.

At last we arrived at Snow Lakes Trail junction--the sun was just beginning its descent below the mountains. A cool breeze blew over us as we jammed mashed potatoes into our faces. I slept like a rock that night, so tired, so content, so proud by the depth of my mental focus. We were set up to reach the base of Crater Lake by the end of the next day. I could almost smell the bacon...

Song for this section is Metallica's Bleeding Me. "Can't stop to save my soul. I take the leash that's leading me." I'm totally responsible for my physical destruction, but it feels so good to conquer the trail.

Heading for Crater Lake (30 miles away) with nothing stopping me now, but me!
Sticky

Wild west shoot-out at Mile 300! Day 16

2011-09-02T10:01:00.000-07:00

Devil's Pass, Sky Lakes Wilderness

Just like Laura Ingalls - Day 14

2011-08-31T16:25:00.000-07:00

Brown Shelter, Mile 263

Trail Magic? - Mile 221

2011-08-30T20:34:00.000-07:00

The Hiker Essentials - Day 11 - Mile 220

2011-08-29T19:21:00.000-07:00

All hikers are concerned with several things on their Zero day (zero mileage day): food, hydration and healthy feet.

Happy JO and I, although not technically thru-hiking this year, live by the premise that maximizing calories is the way to success. When hiking 20-25 miles per day, your body can burn 4000-6000 calories. You can never carry enough food to replenish the deficit on the trail, but you can try. Then again, if you carry too much, you risk hurting your feet from all the extra weight. The time to replenish your calories and rest your feet is in town.

We walked into Ashland's Callahan's Lodge with a few tablespoons of powdered milk and three melted chocolate-covered espresso beans. Almost perfect planning. We had just enough for our 65-mile trek from Seiad. One bag of Trader Joe's fried green beans turned out to be rancid, so we buried it during the climb out of Seiad Valley. Some colony of giant California ants are partying like crazy right now! But later on, I was lucky enough to find a rogue sourpatch kid on the trail, thanks to some fumbling thru-hiker in front of me. Yum!!

We had mailed a box from Portland to Ashland, containing all our food for our five-day journey to Crater Lake. Although I had also included gauze, lotion, and a razor, I did not anticipate the blisters I would need to baby over our 'zero' day. Thanks to Freya and Marty in Portland, I was sent a mondo bag of Epsom salts, Phineas and Ferb band-aids, and a lollipop. The Epsom salts went straight into the jacuzzi tub and I bathed in them twice so far. Ahhh. My feet should be perfectly prepared for the last leg of our trip.

We had an awesome dinner of pasta and salad (gotta keep the scurvy at bay) last night, and a filling breakfast of omelettes and sausages this morning. After a quick trip downtown to the library and the outdoor store, we scurried through Safeway and grabbed bread, cheese, salad fixins', beer (that's the hydration part) and two pints of Ben & Jerry's.

Happy JO has performed minor toe surgery and iced his knee while on a marathon channel-surf. My work emails are done, clothes laundered and I've just about gotten all the dirt out from under my nails.

Next section is 108 miles --the final stretch to connect my footprints across a 646-mile section from northern California to the OR/WA border.

Song for this section is "Can't Sleep" by Above & Beyond. Five-hour energy drinks are great for getting you up the tough climb, but definitely not advisable after 2pm.

Oregon Bloom - Day 10

2011-08-27T20:34:00.000-07:00

Mile 198, Jackson Gap

We're back in Oregon! - Day 10

2011-08-27T20:28:00.000-07:00

Oregon/California Border - Mile 195

Flying Nymph with Mt Shasta - Mile 180

2011-08-27T20:26:00.000-07:00

Boundless Explosion of Energy in the Siskiyou Mountains (after a 5-hour Energy Drink)

The Great Pancake Challenge - Day 9

2011-08-27T20:22:00.000-07:00

I woke up early, all puffy-faced from the heat of the RV Park lawn and bolted to the Seiad Cafe. I sauntered up to the counter and plopped on the stool, ready to take on the five-pound stack of doughy pancakes in less than two hours. If I did it, I'd get them free. I didn't know of any emaciated hikers who had succeeded, but I thought I could handle it.

I looked down the counter at the line-up of Yosemite Sams talking gold prices. They were all eating eggs, bacon and hash browns. I glanced behind me at the table of hikers--"Sags" and "Slim" were chomping on breakfast burritos and omelets. Yogi's guide book warns hikers not to attempt the challenge if they're going to hike that day. Hmmm, I had the huge, hot climb and 15 miles planned. If I ruined my day, I'd never get a zero rest day in Ashland.

Visions of a relaxed jacuzzi tub in Ashland won out. I balked and ordered the short stack -- and I didn't even eat half. :( My burger, fries, salad, milkshake, 3 beers, hot dog, and a bag of gummy worms the day before had caught up with me.

The short stack was buttery golden excellence, and it helped fuel me a full 18 miles that day. Next time I'm in Seiad Valley, population 350, and I've driven there, I'll try the Challenge. This scenario will probably never happen, but I guess I should never say never.

Seiad Valley - Day 8 - Mile 156

2011-08-25T21:24:00.000-07:00

After a few strenuous days from Etna, we marched like beaten down soldiers for 6 miles on the road in midday blistering heat. The prize was hitting the Seiad Cafe for a burger and fries moments before it's 2pm closing.

While we lounged on the grass at the Mid-Valley RV park, we watched our trail friends fumble into town as the thermometer hit 90 degrees. The last 56 miles was tougher on me than I expected -- rocky contours and steep climbs mixed with thick vegetation and dense forest. Tomorrow's 4500ft climb out of Seiad Valley is notoriously hot and dry. It's probably even worse after stuffing your face with pancakes, but I'll do my best. (to enjoy the cakes!)

Marble Mountain Wilderness

2011-08-25T21:02:00.000-07:00

Day 7, Mile 135

Welcome to the State of Jefferson

2011-08-22T22:14:00.001-07:00

Day 5- Etna, CA - 100 miles - Aug. 22

We are already 11 miles ahead of schedule, not an easy feat to achieve in the course of 5 days. I was convinced that my year of desk-surfing and gourmand-living in Portland had rendered me unfit for massive miles on the trail. Little did I realize that all it would take was a brief brush with the backwoods hippies of the State of Jefferson to motivate me to walk farther.

The State of Jefferson was a 1941 proposed state combining the most rural counties of Oregon and California, who wanted to secede from their states' rule. The movement continues through its own public radio station, license plate frames, flags, bumper stickers and policy arguments on private land rights. On the PCT, hikers may encounter elements of the movement--mining remnants, eerily cheery family retreats in the woods, living off the land, etc.-- from as far south as Dunsmuir, but my awakening came 9.5 miles from the road to Etna.

Day 4 we had planned to hike 25 miles, my first attempt since last summer. As we approached the endpoint--a campsite in the woods just below the pass-- I heard a child's playful scream. Hmmm, ok, so we'll be sharing, I thought. We turned the corner and I spotted two couples, barefoot, blonde and disheveled, with two rug rats, none who had probably brushed their hair or bathed. Ever. The children's faces were caked in mud, and the women, clad in homespun sweaters and tattered skirts, had hairdos more authentically natural than dreadlocks--like ratty Marge Simpson bird's nests, swaying from side to side with every tilt of the head. There they stood, like 3D "Pig Pens," sleeping bags in tow.

I crossed the stream, noted the multiple hammocks in the trees, and considered stopping for the night. That is, before two thru-hikers who had already arrived, Little Bird and Squirrel, informed us that the family had 17 goats on the ridge who would soon be joining us. "They like to sniff around the tents, but you can just shoo them away."

I excused myself by saying that we werent much for animals, and quickly cameled enough water to push on. As we walked another mile and a half, I saw hundreds of goat tracks in the trail, and I envisioned the grubby children riding on the goats for miles from their secret commune to the campsite.

I slept like a rock after my big 26.5 miles, and by 10am the next morning we had picked up a ride from the first car going into town! The driver was a transplant from Florida--a mid-lifer who sold his business, all his assets and bought a cabin in the woods. He powers his life off a generator, pipes water from the spring, and goes to town once a month to do his laundry and run errands. To make a living, he mines for gold.

He talked about land rights, the self-righteous environmentalists, the best way to mine for gold, and how lucky he is to enjoy the natural surroundings of "the valley." I thought the same thing as I stared out the back of his truck bed, watching the mountains get smaller and smaller, the road wind closer to town, and sensed the sweet smell of freshly-brewed coffee and my first shower and cell signal in five days. Wilderness just isn't for everyone. Right then, I happened to be more concerned with pizza.

The people of Etna have been fabulous, and well worth the stop. Next up - Seiad Valley, 56 miles away and home of the Great Pancake Challenge!

Until then, Sticky

Climbing in the Russian Wilderness

2011-08-22T08:14:00.000-07:00

Day 4, Mile 89

Introducing Chaf and the Gang--Day 3, Trinity Alps Wilderness, Aug. 20

2011-08-22T08:02:00.000-07:00

Foot blisters are so 2010. I've met my new nemesis of pain in hot, dry NoCal and it appears to be a raging fire of the skin in the very places that we don't really talk about. But I will.

On Day 1 Happy JO and I scaled 4500 ft through Castle Crags wilderness; epic views, azure skies, claustrophobic heat, and bugs attacking like dive bombers bound for my earlobe. We careened toward the ridge line, a white strip of dusty trail, surrounded by tall pines and manzanita bush, and the heat index soared. My face turned a non-flattering shade of rosy pink, and it occurred to me, as sweat dripped under my sunglasses and over my cheeks that I might not be in shape for this adventure. Ummm, what was I thinking coming out here again?

We met our first thru-hikers coming from Mexico around lunch time--Mark, or "Slam-clicker" as Happy JO dubbed him, takes no more than a few minutes once he's in town to find a hotel, slam his door shut and lock out the hiker trash. A young blonde-plaited woman named Tails has her dog, Skeeter, with her and has hiker-named him "Heads." "Half-step" from SF who is trying to catch her daughter on the trail, and Yard Sale from Mexico rounded out the bunch.
So back to my self-doubt. I thought the fatigue in my hamstrings and quads was bad until I felt the skin on my inner thighs burning. Chaf city. It had rubbed raw during my olympic climb and even my underarms were beginning to feel the flames.

On our retreat to a duff-filled camp we gazed at the snow glistening on Mt. Shasta, as I smeared a contact lense case full of bag balm between my legs and into my pits. Ahhh....a sense of relief.

Day 2 we meandered along contours and topped out at 7200ft, while I grinned about my first-aid job--strips of gauze and climbing tape secured in my most sensitive areas. During our lunch of beef jerky and cheese wedges at Porcupine Lake, Happy JO showed me how fly larvae camouflage themselves by building mobile cocoons of pine needle and twigs. Fun trailside ecology lesson.

After a night spent barricading the tarp tent from ants, we encountered No Pain, the first black thru-hiker I've met. With a smooth, relaxed style and a buttery voice like Isaac Hayes, he's retired special forces, now a veteran of the PCT and has completed the Appalachian Trail seven times. When we talked east coast living, I mentioned our 6-yr tour of duty in Baltimore. "Dang," he said, "I've lived in DC my whole life, and I don't think I could survive Balto." "Well," I replied, "I could never survive the AT, so we're even." We found a mutual level of respect; I could have listened to his stories all day, but No Pain has no plan -- so we may never see him again.

Tonight's campsite is nestled under pine trees with a bubbling spring and colorful bloom nearby. Our packs are getting light and fast as we approach our first town stop--Etna in 34.5 miles. Already we're counting every last calorie in our stuff sack, and I'm dreaming of pizza, a burger and Ben & Jerry's.

This section's song is "Sweet Sensation" by Chase & Status. "...The music that we play we'll ease your mind." With my headphones bobbing down the trail, the chaf subsides, the mosquito cloud dissipates, and my mind eases onto the trail as though it never left.

-Sticky

Lunchtime calisthenics with a great view!

2011-08-19T13:58:00.000-07:00

I need to work on my form...Happy Birthday, Freya! This one is for you!

Morning view of Mt Shasta

2011-08-19T08:25:00.000-07:00

25 miles down. 303 to go!

The well-worn hitching spot of Dunsmuir, CA

2011-08-18T08:52:00.001-07:00

45 minutes. No luck yet. Thankfully another thru-hiker left a cup of water for us :)

Amtrak southbound

2011-08-17T15:56:00.001-07:00

On the coast starlight to Dunsmuir, CA...just about another 9 hours to go. I'm lounging to Musak in the top-floor lounge car--lots of MacBooks, free-spirited spontaneous guitar jams, food bloggers, dominoes and ladies with hairy chins. That's Oregon for you.

My starting weight is 121. Base pack weight is 12 lbs (this is with no food or water). I've packed light this year, since Etna, Seiad Valley and Ashland are calling for 0-10% rain for the next few weeks. Yet, the lightweight rain jacket (Mountain Hardwear, compression stretch) and Patagonia regulator zipneck fleece are sitting is PDX ready to be sent if the weather turns. Thanks, Garth! (whose food bag on the AT weighed twice my BPW. :p)

The 2011 thru-hiking "pack" has made it up to Etna, CA. (It's been a tough year, WAY too much snow. Most recorded snow in Washington ever.) We'll hit the stragglers of the pack -- and then crush them. (no, not really, I'm just trying to get the bravado out now instead of using it later against my best interests.)

I'm fearful that I didn't pay enough attention to packing; I'm sure I forgot something. How could my pack be only 12lbs? I almost convinced myself that I didnt need underwear, but came to my senses and packed them in my frantic preparation....right next to my glitter strips (silver band-aids). If I had to choose, I'd take trail bling over underwear.

I cut myself in between my toes this week...who does that? And now I'm worried that it will give me problems as the heat rises and the skin rubbing begins in my Adidas behemoths. The thing I fear most is the hot, dry weather's wrath on my feet. 328 miles in 2.5 weeks is fast if you've not already been hiking from Mexico.

Time for an IPA and some Sponge Bob Popsicles. I heard they sell them in the cafe, and personally I think I need to put some calories under my pack straps.

Desert costume '11

2011-08-14T21:21:00.001-07:00

Sun hat trials and tribulations....I want shade, but my head is too small for this monstrosity. Found some great arm warmers made by Turtle Fur on clearance...not really necessary in the NoCal desert, but I couldn't resist. Don't they look great with my pink camo gaiters, courtesy of Dirty Girl Gaiters?

This year I'm using an REI Flash ultralight 30 backpack. My GoLite Jam from last year gave me too many problems--the foam padding buckled and bowed out from my back the more I cinched the side straps. Although I've seen this happen to many others on the trail, GoLite refused to take it back or fix it. I'm excited to try out REI's competition.

Starting with ladies Adidas Supernova Sequence, size 9.5 wide--I've gone through the drill and decided that I value my toenails enough to wear a shoe 1.5 sizes too large.

New purple running shorts (my signature item on the PCT) by Puma with a nice soft liner inside, and Fit Sok poly stretch cushioned socks were purchased at FitRightNW. Love those guys. Great selection.

Now onto food boxes tonight. Train departs for Dunsmuir, CA at 2:30pm Wednesday PST....more soon.
Sticky

Heading to Dunsmuir, CA

2011-08-10T19:27:00.000-07:00

Time to start linking up the disparate parts of my completed trail...The plan was to complete WA this summer, an easy jaunt from Portland to Panther Creek Campground, then 289 miles to Stevens Pass, where I first met Happy JO in 2002 and hiked to Canada. But this year I can decide if i want to handle snow, and well, I don't. The reports so far say snow in the trees and 6-7 ft of it at Indian Peak Wilderness. I'm not even sure that the snow will melt at all this year.

And so, a return to the hot, dry, dusty ridges of California--the stuff I really enjoy. It's time to hump water, slather on the sunblock and work on my tan. More updates coming soon.
Sticky

Part 2 of Walk for Jake (Mojave to Yosemite) is up! Thank you to everyone who donated!

2010-12-14T07:14:00.000-08:00

Part 1 of Walk for Jake (Mexico to Mojave) is up on YouTube!

2010-12-12T16:02:00.000-08:00

Trader Joe's!!!

2010-08-17T20:03:00.001-07:00

Joce and Dorian on their first trip to Trader Joe's (Joce bought
chocolate covered espresso beans. Wonder where he got that idea.)

What to do after the epilogue?

2010-08-06T06:55:00.000-07:00

Loving the SoCal Desert and the brief shade at Danny Boy Mine -- One of my favorite days

It has been a long time since I last wrote anything substantial. Civilization has hit me like a ton of bricks -- so much to do, emails to write, phone calls to return, meetings to attend. I have observed that in daily life we have way too many things to balance, and therefore all goes out of balance. There are too many choices, and many of us, pressed by schedules, troubled by feelings of doubt, fear, nervousness and self-neglect, make the wrong choices.

Life was simple on the trail; I knew where all my things were at all times. If I didn't, I could be in serious danger. In the month since I have been home my IPhone disappeared (I found it--thankfully people in Oregon are honest), lost two parking garage tickets (paying the maximum parking fee), misplaced my wallet at least four times, and can't seem to find the random items of my hiking uniform that I just wore for nine weeks straight. I feel out of place somedays, like my body doesn't fit in my surroundings. I slip and spill things a lot. And that is just stupid and messy.

My feet shrank in the Sierras, and now fit in my high heels. They were fun to try on the first week. Now, however, when I look in my closet I feel overwhelmed. (Not that I'm planning on getting rid of any shoes....) I drink lots of water, but take 5-minute showers (with only one kind of soap). I'm not too excited about cooking or the number of choices that go in to deciding on a meal. I'm on a cheese kick these days...just open it and eat, and wash down with some good wine. I worked hard to get rid of my hiker tan; now its just a tan like everone else's. I cut and dyed my hair blonde. I needed a change. People tell me when they haven't seen me since April that I look great. I just feel different, and I think that I want to show it outwardly.

I read my friends' journals and watch their Spots. This week I talked with Dorian and Joce (the French guys) who are in Crater Lake, The Kern who is leaving Ashland today, Boston and Cubby who will arrive outside Ashland today, and Green Tortuga, who called me but I missed his call, so I don't know exactly where he is. I'm betting somewhere in Oregon.

I'm contemplating getting on the trail again, but returning home was so hard the first time, that I am not sure how I feel about it. I have given up on walking with Boston and Cubby since their mileages are increasing up to 35-40 a day, and mine, well, mine have shrunk to zero. I found that my pre-hike training regime (stairclimber, treadmill) just isn't fun anymore. My body changed shape on the trail, with my legs getting very muscular and my butt slipping away to nonexistence. I thought pilates might help. So far, so good. Putting my tunes on, setting up a step in the aerobics room and rockin' out with some choreography seems to be therapeutic (and difficult!).

Dorian and Joce said that they could accommodate my snail's pace by doing 25 miles a day. Funny how thruhikers take on a superhero status, even to those of us who know what it is like. So the plan may be to meet the Frenchies at Timberline Lodge and just hike for two days (46 miles) to Cascade Locks. Then I can bring them to Portland for a zero day at our house. It will be wonderful to be on the trail again with friends that met me in one brief window of my life, yet know me much better than some of those folks in my day-to-day life. I hope to also see Kern when he arrives at Timberline Lodge...and then there is Boston and Cubby who are less than one day behind. Half-Ounce is with them, I think, but he will leave at Ashland and return to CA do the Sierras...at least that is the trail gossip at this point.

To date we have raised over $5600 for Jake's Therapy, and I feel honored to have been able to do that for him!! I haven't finished this blog yet. I know that there is more to tell, so please stay tuned for me (Sooner than later, I promise).

Crossing the Snow Chute under Forester Pass

2010-07-08T13:20:00.000-07:00

Happy JO crossing the final few steps of the snow chute under Forester Pass. The miles of snow that day made for a long ascent and descent. As I look at this and think back to my own climb up the steep hardpacked snow and across the chute, I think about The Kern doing it with nothing but his poles and sneakers, and a modified Zoro bandana across his eyes to keep from going snowblind. It must have been quite a day.

Sticky's Epilogue. July 6.

2010-07-06T09:11:00.000-07:00

Weight: 123 (That's right. I gained weight)
Base Pack Weight: 15.5

Before leaving the PCT in Tuolumne Meadows, Happy JO and I spent several hours in front of the general store, opening our final packages, eating lots of food, and chatting with incoming PCT hikers. We split a few cans of tuna, artichoke hearts and olives (Thank you, Debbie!), as well as a bottle of wine (Thank you, Kelly!) with the French guys, Joshua and Dorian, and The Graduate (there are two of them, "The Graduate" is from Portland, and is a tall guy. Graduate is the pint-sized New Jerseyite in the previous blog's video). We ate tortilla chips (Thanks, Peter!), gummy bears, chocolate, bread, cheese, and a fresh tomato. I smeared on some insect repellent, since the melting snow meant the arrival of the nasty, infamous mosquitoes to the Sierras. I remarked that the store and its parking lot were bustling with tourists, kind of buzzing around like bugs, too. The Graduate told me to wait until I hit Yosemite Valley....July 4th in Yosemite was like a wilderness amusement park.

We said goodbye around 4pm and started our final stretch along the John Muir Trail down to Half Dome. I was equipped with a new map and I was in charge of leading through the snow. This was my final test. It didn't help that the French guys were with us, and Dorian works as a mountain guide in Chamonix. It doesn't matter how old we get, boys never stop picking on girls.

The worst part of navigating was the beginning--no snow, just lots of tourists, road intersections and cars to avoid getting hit by. I will admit that I was guiding us toward a horse camp, not the PCT, when Happy JO asked coyly "Is this where the trail goes?" They were all trying to hold back smiles. Ok, ok, they caught me.

Once, however, I was on the snow in the trees I did a pretty good job of following the trail, despite the fact that it was not visible. We climbed on snow for about five miles, and pitched our tarp tent just under Cathedral Peak. The sun was low in the sky, there were no more thru-hikers nearby, and I finally realized that with each mile I walked away from the PCT, I became more mortal, less thruhiker. I was beginning to shed my superhuman status, and I wondered what it was going to feel like when my "I am hiking" dissolved to "I hiked."

The following morning, we scooted down toward Half Dome, passing clumps of hikers attempting the 211 miles of the John Muir Trail, most of which we had just completed. We knew that they were in store for some incredible hardship in the Sierras, so we took turns guessing how many days they would last. (Aren't I allowed to retain some ego for walking from Mexico?)

At last I saw Half Dome and the trip seemed so incredibly close to completion. Only problem was the hundreds of parking lot hikers hanging off of its cable ladder, ruining the vision I had of a solo ascent of Half Dome. (How did I become so selfish over the last two months?) We passed the trail junction for Half Dome, and encountered swarms of cotton-wearing day hikers, already beat after the 7 miles from the car. There was a lot of complaining, screaming, arguing among couples and families. The climbing was too hard, too many bugs, too hot, too hard on the knees. We equipped ourselves to blast off through the climb as quickly as we could, tuning out the people, and focusing on the task at hand.

Rather than struggle on a rock slide teaming with minions, we set up shop under a tree just 15 minutes from the summit, and ate lunch as we watched the drama unfold before us. The cables were packed with people until 4pm that day, and at last I thought I heard the final mortal peep. We packed up and headed toward the finale.

I was brazen with pride and smitten with elitism as we followed the steep steps to the cables. I had walked 650 miles in the desert, climbed over eight passes in the Sierras in one of the worst snow years ever, I was the fittest I have ever been in my life. This was going to be a blast. I suited up with work gloves at the cables, took one step and started hoisting myself with my arms over the steep polished granite. Whoa, that was kinda hard. I moved up a little further. My arms started cramping, and the incline became steeper. Wait a minute. This was harder than I thought. I looked up at Happy JO who had scurried ahead of me. I wasn't hiking anymore. I was scaling a steep granite monolith. Thruhiking had not prepared my arms for this.

I eventually came up with a system, hoisting about five feet at once, sliding one arm up and then the other, then resting on a wooden step. Hoist, step. Don't look down until you step. Hoist, step, then look. After twenty minutes or so, I finally crested over the the round dome and at last I was staring at the Yosemite Valley views I had heard about since I was a child. There were only two others at the summit, so I took the pleasure of meandering around the top naked, posing for photos, and heading out to the famous diving board for my finale shot. It was pretty much what I was dreaming of.

The next two days in Yosemite were spent as tourists, eating buffets, travelling by shuttle bus, gazing at the rock climbers' sinewy bodies. Rose, Happy JO's sister, and her friends, Meredith and Lisa, drove four hours from Sacramento to pick us up, and we happily lounged in the back seat as they drove us four hours back the same day to clean toilets, hot showers and Meredith's collection of wonderful smelling bath and body lotions.

Where are my fellow hiking friends now?
After Boston's ingrown toenail surgery in Mammoth, Boston and Cubby continued from Red's Meadows and decided to complete the JMT into Yosemite Valley. They topped out on Half Dome on July 4th and spent Boston's birthday in the Valley. I hope to see them again in Oregon.

Half Ounce is recovering well. He turned 40 while we were in Mammoth, and left Red's Meadows with Team Zero, still taking Diamox for altitude effects. Half Ounce is from Oregon, so I look forward to seeing him when he completes the trail. In the meantime I will just taunt him with stories of my breakfast excursions to The Blue Pig.

The Kern received all the rest of his replacement gear in Mammoth, including a new debit card. Cha-ching! He also left with Team Zero, rocking his new "dude, man" look, as we like to call it. He conquered his fear of crossing logs while in the Sierras, and we are very, very proud of him!

Green Tortuga, the most famous letterboxer in the world, was last seen by me doing a 30+ day into Kennedy Meadows. I thought we would connect and do the Sierras together, but he was just a day or so behind, and that amount of time can never be made up in the snow. Team Zero said they ran into him after I left.

(Little) Graduate was last seen by us breaking the sound barrier toward Vermillion Valley Ranch in the quest for a cheeseburger. Good thing. That guy is tiny. He is supposed to start law school in the fall...but is on the trail to decide what he really wants to do. I hope he figures it out.

The Walking Sisters left Mammoth the day after we arrived. Sayo was pivotal in distracting Boston during her toe surgery. Aya described the same gnawing hunger pangs through the Sierras. Both finished their colossal plates at our 11-hiker-strong Mexican dinner in Mammoth. I am always stunned by their eating abilities. We fully expect that their dad, Nobody, won't be able to resist providing trail magic to them through Oregon and Washington. Hope to see him, too.

I can't fully cleanse my soul of the trail just yet. My plan is to head to Ashland and hike 109 miles to Crater Lake in early August, in order to meet up with everyone, possibly hike with Boston and Cubby if I can keep up with them. Or, I might spend one weekend doing trail magic at near Mt Hood in mid-to-late August.

Kudos to Jake for doing such a fantastic job at rehab during the last two months! We could see a significant improvement in his core and arm strength since then! Onward and upward!

Stay tuned for a few more installments including my gear review and some more good trail video!

A Successful Ford of Evolution Creek

2010-07-05T20:34:00.000-07:00

As promised, here is Shin, Graduate (the tiny guy getting dragged), Tacoma 29 (a seven-summiter, that is, he has summited the highest mountain on all seven continents), and Mr. Mountain Goat. They crossed at a lower water level, but at a location with a stronger current than where we chose to cross. They did an amazing job, and made it across quicker than we did. I wish the best of luck to all the hikers still battling the raging waters in the Sierras.

Yosemite Falls. July 2.

2010-07-02T08:52:00.000-07:00

I'm a tourist again....stay tuned for Sticky's PCT Epilogue.

Top of Half Dome! June 30.

2010-07-02T08:08:00.000-07:00

We did it, Jake! Now to climb down....

The Breakfast Club. June 28.

2010-07-01T19:02:00.000-07:00

During the last six days in the High Sierras, Team Zero + JO arose no
later than 5am every morning. My favorite meal of the day, and the
first thing I do when I wake up is eat breakfast: one spoonful of
instant coffee, three spoonfuls of powdered milk, cereal of choice
(usually granola or Kashi), and a quarter liter of water. Some
mornings if I really want to treat myself I add TJ's dried wild
bluberries--trail luxury at its best. My breakfast is not a typical
thruhiker one, which usually consists of a bar or poptart, due its
high time investment for absolutely no further calorie advantage.

Food storage in the Sierras is always a hot point for discussion among
thruhikers. Sequoia, Kings Canyon and Yosemite National Parks all
require food to be stored in bear canisters, bear-proof plastic
cylinders that weigh about 2.5 pounds each. If a hiker wants to walk
the 10 or so days through the High Sierra without resupplying, it is
virtually impossible to get all that food into the container. So you
must sleep with it or hang it, but you always cook dinner before you
camp. The bears are generally a lot busier busting into naive
tourists' cars in the national parks or trashing established campsites
for food nibbles. In the more extreme case, some hikers eat only cold
or dry food for simplicity's sake.

About three days into our Sierra stretch, I felt this sharp aching
pain in my upper stomach. It would come and go during the day, subside
at night, and seemed to feel better when I ate. I was sure it was an
ulcer from all of the stress. Boston complained of tiredness as we
climbed to Mather...maybe something was going around?

I kept complaining until finally Happy JO asked me if it hurt when I
went uphill. I had empirically determined that it did. I answered
affirmatively. He laughed and told me that it was hunger pain, severe
hunger pain, or as he liked to call it the "Sierra Stomach". My body
was eating itself and crying out for more food. Turns out that Boston
was feeling the same thing. A bar every two hours was not going to cut
it. Unfortunately that was all we could ration for ourselves.

Two days before our arrival in Red's Meadows Happy JO told us that the
diner had great breakfast. Done. We would set our sights on breakfast
in Red's Meadows the morning of the seventh day. 7am. It was a date
with the breakfast club.

At lunch on the fifth day Kern stuck is head into his bear canister,
demoralized by what little remained. At lunch on the six day Happy JO
and I ate plain tuna on a slab of dry ramen. We looked in the
canister--dry soup and six three-year-old Power Bars to get us to
breakfast 18 miles away. Time to start supplementing with my trusty
old, unconventional powdered milk.

We all dreamt of what we would order. Cubby insisted she would walk
into the night to get there the evening before. We convinced her not
to torture us.

On the seventh day we rested- after six miles, three hotcakes,
scrambled eggs, bacon, home fries, bluberry pie a la mode, and a
strawberry milkshake. Whew.... Then we felt ill. Our stomachs had
shrunk to rabbit size and we were eating like elephants. Oh, the pain
of a full stomach....my distended tummy stuck out farther than my
deflated butt.

Time to rest in Mammoth Lakes and move toward the John Muir Trail's
terminus in Yosemite Valley. Mile 908, and anxious to catch up with
the rest of the thruhiking community before branching off for my
finale...with plenty of extra food.

Song for this section: Air for Life by Above & Beyond. Clean, crisp
Sierra air is good for life but not when it's at the bottom of your
bear canister.

A ford by any other name is not the same. June 26.

2010-06-30T14:16:00.000-07:00

It would be unnatural for any hiker to not worry about crossing the
many creeks in the High Sierras. Happy JO's greatest fear was reaching
an impassable ford in the middle of the wilderness, or attempting a
dangerous one with bad outcomes. With high snow this year and rising
temperatures, the chance of a forced turnaround was high.

After our 5pm ascent of Mather Pass the temperture was 82 degrees. As
we prepared dinner around 8pm, an avalanche rocked the opposite side
of the canyon. Things were warming up quickly and we were literally
watching it happen.

The next day we set up to climb Muir Pass, a long gradual ascent to
just under 12,000ft, infamous for its miles and miles of posthole-
perfect snow. The afternoon was incredibly warm, making snow travel
painfully difficult. We decided to camp at 11,200ft, just 2.5 miles
from the pass, and ascend at 4:30am when the snow would be crunchy
under our microspikes.

At 3:30 we all felt the drizzle coming down on our tents and we knew
that we had made the wrong decision. It had been too warm for the snow
to harden, and it would surely cave under our feet like sloppy 7-11
slushies. The morning climb and descent through 8 miles of snow was a
mind-numbing slog, nevertheless we would soon be jarred to attention
on our arrival at the infamous Evolution Creek crossing.

Winding through the long deep valley from Muir Pass -- Evolution
Valley-- is the notorious Evolution Creek, shin deep on dry years but
a raging whitewater canyon on wet years. I had never seen powerful
rivers like these before, so the best comparison I knew was the
significantly tamer brand at Six Flags, which at this point I will
note that I also found scary.

We approached the bank of Evolution at 3pm and walked upstream about
25 yards. After finding a location that balanced a reasonable depth
with a slower current, we got into formation by linking arms and
facing upstream: kamikaze Kern to lead, then me, Happy JO, Cubby and
Boston to anchor the lineup.

First step in and the water hit my thighs. By the halfway point, it
was at my rib cage. Because Cubby and I were shorter, our packs hit
the water and created huge drag on the lineup. I tried to keep my feet
on the bottom but I could barely stand. We were all screaming orders
at one another: Go! Stop! Wait! You're on my foot! I can't make it!

Cubby clung for her life on Happy JO's arm, and Boston onto Cubby's.
Meanwhile I was secretly enthralled by the action, despite having
little control over my body in the vicious current. We made it across
after about twenty minutes of slow, steady, but never effortless,
movement.

We were soaked and dazed, yet Happy JO was able to guide the next
group across about one hour later as Team Zero dried out clothes and
cooked dinner. We videoed the other group's ford, and I plan to post
it as soon as I can.

Cubby was nervous about the upcoming Bear Creek ford, and so she led a
firestorm to get as many miles in as possible that night. We walked
until 8:45pm in order to access Bear by mid-morning. (the later in
the day, the more melting snow in the creeks) Ultimately we found an
alternate route across Bear's three branches upstream and lost two
hours to avoid the main crossing, but it was worth it.

The worst was over and we would soon be emerging from the Sierras
unscathed. Photo above is at the bridge (thank you!) at the Middle
Fork Kings River: Sticky, Happy JO, Kern, Cubby and Boston. Mile 870
and getting antsy!

2010-06-29T08:10:00.000-07:00

Sticky Upsidedown Cake. June 24.

The second traditional "drop-off point" for thruhikers is Tuolumne
Meadows, the end of the High Sierras and conveniently located near
Yosemite Valley. At this point, hikers have suffered through the
Southern Californian desert and have made it over eight passes by the
skin of their teeth. What else is left after conquering nearly 1000
miles of California's toughest terrain? Some leave feeling
accomplished, others dissappointed in their lack of mental perseverance.

I can empathize with these hikers' after the treacherous, demanding
terrain of the last three days. Team Zero + JO left late Monday for a
short hike (footlong Subway subs in tow) toward the first pass. Kern
was tightly bundled in his new OR bivy sack and Boston and Cubby in
their 8oz. one-person cuban fiber Hexamid (a kind of super
lightweight material on the ultralight hiking scene: www.zpacks.com).

The next morning we climbed back over Kersarge Pass and continued on
to Glen Pass, Happy JO's 2002 nemesis. He cringed at the thought of
stepping onto the icy North side at 11,978ft. Luckily it was slushy
glissading snow and his fear subsided, so much so that he taunted the
massive pass as he slid hundreds of feet down the embankment on his
butt. Unfortunately Glen Pass had the final word, as its progressively
crunchier snow ripped a huge hole in the seat of his pants. Boston and
Cubby got an unanticipated eyeful of Happy JO's bare cheeks, and Happy
JO was sure that he got a snow enema.

The next day was a double dose of Pinchot Pass (12130 ft) and the
often understated, but incredibly technical, Mather Pass--a sheer face
of snow and craggy rock, culminating in a 100ft wide cornice at 12100
ft. At 3pm we sat sprawled at its base, debating the merits of
climbing it or staying low for the night. Curiousity and a pure drive
for excitement won out and we began the two-hour climb to the top. We
put on our microspikes and crampons, strapped on our ice axes, and
lined up in formation: Happy JO, Boston, Cubby, me and Kern.

Happy JO kicked hundreds of steps toward the icy lip on top, amidst
complete silence in the group. The traverse required absolute
concentration: drive ice axe in to slope, step left, step right, stop.

Suddenly while traversing past a rock my foot postholed through the
steep slope and dove into the snow. My balance was lost, the ice axe
in my left hand slipped out of the snow and I fell backwards blindly
with a loud yelp. Luckily I stopped several feet below our steps,
hovering upsidedown on the snow with my pack strap in mouth, my one
foot stuck in the slope above me, and my ice axe dangling by its strap
in my left hand. I didn't dare move, instead asking politely, "Can
someone please hand me my ice axe?"

Happy JO couldn't see anything as he was in the front of the line, but
Cubby and Kern slowly got me back onto our tracks and we continued
toward the top. At last, we arrived at the final boulder and pushed
ourselves over the snow at the top. Safe and sound.

These mountains are tough, and can't be underestimated in such deep
snow. I can empathize with those who have had enough adventure for
this summer. I certainly have had my fill!

Camped just below Muir pass at mile 850. Three more passes to go. Song
for this section is Diana Ross' "Upside Down": "Upside down, Boy,
you turn me inside out and round and round". Mather, you turned me
upside down, but not back around...I'm counting down toward the finish.

(Photo above at the top of Mather Pass!)

2010-06-25T07:07:00.000-07:00

Top of Muir Pass Hut! 11,995 ft!

Descending from Pinchot Pass. Mile 810!

2010-06-23T21:08:00.000-07:00

Reconnecting with Team Zero, featuring a guest appearance by Happy JO. June 20.

2010-06-21T11:24:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in Bishop, CA in Motel 6. We hitched here yesterday from
the Subway in Independence. (incidentally the new five-dollar foot
long Orchard Chicken Salad sub is yummy. Of course I say this without
knowing the detailed list of ingredients and I'd like to keep it that
way.)

We arrived at the trail head, charging out nine non-PCT miles over
Kearsarge Pass at 11,200 ft and dropping into a campground area where
we knew there was trail magic. Bingo! We both had a beer at 9:30am,
followed by a handful of broccoli, cauliflower and carrots. Thank you,
Peanuteater!

After playing the telephone game with about 12 hikers heading back out
to the PCT, Peanuteater finally filled us in on the latest trail
gossip....about Team Zero?! Despite a successful summit of Mt Whitney,
Half Ounce contracted high altitude pulmonary edema (HAPE) that
evening. After a slow, laborious hike the next day and a completely
restless night, Boston and Cubby climbed to Forester Pass to get a
cell signal, while Tenspot and Turbo hiked, bushwacked, and carried
Half Ounce to a safer elevation. Following several unsuccessful
sweeps, a rescue helicopter finally located them and evacuated Half
Ounce to a local hospital.

Yet unfortunately the drama doesn't end there. While ascending post-
rescue, Ten Spot was faced with crossing the deep, raging confluence
of the Kern and Tyndall rivers. He tried to cross over a log but
couldn't make it without removing his pack--midstream. The pack
bounced off the bank, into the river and Ten Spot was left with
nothing but the clothes on his back in the middle of the Sierra
wilderness. He and Turbo hiked 28 miles over Forester and Kearsarge
Passes to get to the road that night, and Team Zero retreated to
Bishop so that Ten Spot could determine the next steps in his adventure.

Happy JO and I hitched into Bishop and we heard the whole story over
again in first person. Half Ounce was released from the hospital and
is recovering in Berkeley at Nobody's house. Ten Spot, now renamed
"The Kern", has bought new gear and is ready to return to the trail.
Boston made "Team Zero" ultralight cuban fiber wallets for Happy JO
and me, and a replacement for The Kern. Hopefully the bad luck has
subsided.

Tomorrow Team Zero, including Happy JO and me, will depart for the
next segment of our hike. Six days to Reds Meadows, seven passes
between us and our next zero day in Mammoth, and hopefully a reunion
with a healthy Half Ounce. Forget everything I said about tough days
in the desert, the next six days will be the final test for me this
summer.

Song for this section: Heaven Can Wait by Charlotte Gainsbourg:
"Heaven can wait and hell's to far to go, Somewhere between what you
need and what you know" I need the challenge of the next 120 miles,
yet I know it will push me to the limits. I'm lucky to share it with
the team and can't wait to report back safe and sound.

(Photo above approaching Forester Pass--the deep notch in the center
of the ridge)

Wherever you go, there you are. June 18.

2010-06-20T13:51:00.000-07:00

The first few days out of Kennedy Meadows were uneventful. Happy JO
was coming up to thruhiker speed as we climbed out of the sagebrush
and headed into the dense pines and granite rock ledges at higher
altitudes. We picked up Shades, a wine production manager from Oregon,
and held on to the speedy Frenchmen, Dorian and Joshua, now sporting
mountaineering boots instead of trail runners, and a fresh set of
blisters. I'm guessing that's how we kept our temporary lead on those
ultralight Euro-dynamos.

The nights got colder and we hit our first river fords--nothing
treacherous but still one hip deep for me. Happy JO and I decided
against a summit of Mt Whitney, since its side trail is so early into
the Sierras and we had no way of knowing what snow situations would
lay ahead of us. With such a tight schedule we decided to push onward
and focus on the eight high passes in our very near future.

The night before our climb over Forester Pass, the first and highest
one at 13,200 ft, we sat at the edge of Wallace Creek cooking dinner.
From an intersecting trail in hobbles Graduate, a jockey-sized
Rutgers grad, who was visibly wet and disheveled. He had attempted
Forester that morning but went up the wrong pass, got lost in the
snow, bouldering at 13,000ft and then fording across a stomach-high
river. He stuck to us like glue and decided to try again the next day.
At this point he had nothing to lose. He had already expected the
worst during his wilderness quest for survival, plus he had run out of
food and we had plenty.

An evening river ford meant frozen socks and sneakers for our morning
climb to Forester (see above). Graduate kept with us as we crunched
through the snow field approaching the pass and then climbed the hard-
packed snow in our microspikes. We hit the top at about 11am and gazed
at the snow bowl below us. No chance of sliding down on our butts--it
was too hard and too big of a drop. We traversed our way to a rocky
ridge, did a bit of rockclimbing and then slid the rest of the way
down. It took several hours of concentration, option-weighing and
patience while hanging onto a steep snow slope.

We spent hours on the snow, and Slippy Feet returned in the afternoon
as the sun hit the surface cups of snow and it turned to softer slush.
There was much trail finding to be done, which happens to be one of
Happy JO's favorite past times. Once the "brown streak" of tread was
visible we released Graduate into the wild with several Power Bars and
told him to get some better maps. He skirted away and did another 15
miles that day, pitching his tent right next to Peanuteater, a hiker
doing trail magic at the nearest road.

We began to hear tales of other hikers who were swept down in a ford,
evacuated by helicopter from Whitney and one who lost his whole pack
in a river crossing. We decided to head out to Independence, a 9-mile
detour, to take stock and decide on the next safest step in my
journey. I was hoping to find Team Zero on a zero-day...and also
hoping to be phagocytosed back into the group. Happy JO and I wanted
a good team for the remainder of our adventure.

Song for this section: All the Right Moves by One Republic. "All the
right moves and all the right faces, so yeah, we're going down..."
Thanks to good teamwork we conquered Forester, made it down safely,
and knew where we were at all times. With less than 200 miles to go,
I'm calling for backup and staying focused in the present.

2010-06-19T03:16:00.000-07:00

Leg splay with microspikes (snow traction for my sneaks) at Forester
Pass, 13,200ft. Highest point on the PCT in California!

Staging ground. Kennedy Meadows. June 14.

2010-06-18T20:21:00.000-07:00

The traditional separation between the desert and the Sierras is the
dusty old hamlet of Kennedy Meadows. It's not really a town, but more
like a jumble of trailers, abandoned RVs, a few cabins, a campground
and the general store. Thruhikers use the general store as their
staging ground for the snowy Sierras, sending packages of crampons,
ice axes, warm clothes and food to take them through a ten-day
roadless section, often with a summit of Mt. Whitney, the highest
mountain in the continental US.

Happy JO and I arrived at noon on June 13, and headed straight for the
ice cream freezer. We ploughed through a pint each of Ben and Jerrys
and then topped it off with a cheeseburger from the restaurant, which
is really just a grill on the porch with a price list brandished above
it. After eating we perused our boxes and headed to pitch our tent out
back. Many moons ago the general store would play movies in an outdoor
amphitheater, but over the years this space became "prime California
real estate" for camping. To us it looked like a tarp city--one man
free-standing tents, one piece shelters, tarps, dome tents, anything
and everything imaginable. There was even a massive junkyard to camp
in, which seemed to intrigue me more than the scenery.

We nested in our temporary home and exchanged gear tips with other
hikers, all of us ripping open packages, repacking our bags, deciding
on meals, and theorizing about the coming snow levels and river fords.

We sauntered down the street to Tom's place, a trail angel who has
graciously built-up an old Airstream RV into a Hiker Cybercafe: three
laptops and a Skype phone. Behind the Airstream are tiny pull-behind
RVs spread around like a small toy neighborhood surrounded by old
tires and burned out pickups. Hikers can stay in these for free, but
donations are always welcome.

Captain Morgan, a five-tour veteran in Iraq, and recent recipient of a
venomous rattlesnake bite on the trail, split open six chickens and
grilled them in Tom's outdoor kitchen. Many of the resting hikers
sprawled themselves across Tom's front yard, at the picnic table, in
the many hammocks or velveteen sofas plopped right on the middle of
the dirt.

We made good use of our time in KM, loading up on calories, meeting
new hikers and planning the days ahead. With excitement and a bit of
fear for the conditions ahead, we departed with GoGo, always
exclaiming "I'm so excited!" and two French guys, Dorian and Joshua,
who were going to sustain themselves for ten days on cold couscous and
refried beans. Heading into the Sierras with about 30 pounds on my
back toward the highest point on the PCT in California!

Balancing in the wind!

2010-06-15T20:01:00.000-07:00

South Sierra Wilderness. 10,400 ft. Mile 725!

Reunion on the trail!

2010-06-11T11:07:00.001-07:00

'Odark (PCT '09), Happy JO (PCT '02), Sticky Fingers, and Shadow (PCT
'09) after breakfast at Mike's Roadhouse Cafe

Mojave's 747 graveyard

2010-06-11T07:24:00.001-07:00

Distant views of the 747 graveyard in the middle of the Mojave desert,
Mojave Spaceport.

Leaving for the Sierras today! Although I have had a lovely time in
Mojave, I think I'm ready for the desert to end. I'll likely have no
signal for at least a week, so assuming I'm not eaten by a bear or
fall through the snow, Happy JO and I will update you from the top of
Mt. Whitney!

Fast and Fearless. June 8.

2010-06-08T22:30:00.001-07:00

I left Mojave with Morph, a tall, white-haired, folk-singing Canadian
and freckle-faced Moonshadow from Asheville. They had hiked the
Appalachian Trail together, and were staying at the same Motel 6 as
me. Ten miles out of Mojave we were still fighting the wind as we set
up camp. Another group of hikers caught up to us, including Hasty, who
exclaimed, "Sticky Fingers! I never thought I would see you again. We
met at the Saufleys and I heard that you were so fast that I would
never catch you." That made me smile as I packed up and left camp the
next morning at 5:30am. I guess Hasty was right. I was fast. But where
was I racing to?

I found Green Tortuga laying under a desert pine tree that
afternoon. I had walked 20 miles by 1:30pm, so I figured a break was
warranted. I was trying to slow down, really I was. Tortuga and I
camped near one of the few natural water sources in this section...we
weren't out of the desert yet. While cowboy camping he recited several
poems to me in campfire style...The Cremation of Sam McGee, Casey at
the Bat...It brought back memories of the girl scouts except I was
actually enjoying myself in the woods this time.

The following day, after slogging through the sand in intense midday
heat, and squeezing the last drop from a water cache, it was time to
say goodbye to Tortuga. He asked me why I needed to go so fast. I
replied "because I can, because I have to." Over the next several
hours I learned that when you are dehydrated Joshua trees start to
look like hikers in the distance, urging you on to the next ridge.
Good thing I was surrounded by miles and miles of them or I might not
have made it.

Boston and Cubby once told me that hikers carry their fears on their
backs. For some it's lack of food, others lack of water, and still
others, the risk of facing inclement weather. When you hike for enough
days you realize that all of these fears can be mediated by simply
walking faster, rather than carrying more stuff. Less days require
less food. Faster walking means less time between water sources and a
better ability to stay warm in bad weather.

Before departing Mojave I told myself that I could finish 86 miles in
3 1/2 days. I trimmed down my clothing, paired down my food and fuel
to the bare minimum and swore to myself that I wouldn't lug water like
a security blanket. I felt free and fast. My feet (now sporting
sneakers 1 1/2 sizes too large) felt awesome. I flirted daily with my
lifelong enemy--the wind--and still managed to continue smiling.

I finally felt like a machine. Just enough food and water, and my legs
would crank out 25+ miles day after day. My dirt tan became thicker
than my suntan. I cowboy camped alone in the wind, followed a mountain
lion's tracks without cringing, and ate the ants stuck in my mashed
potatoes. My last day alone on the trail was so satisfying that I now
understand how and why people submit themselves to such a life for
five months en route to Canada.

The song for this section is Moby's Feeling So Real. No explanation
necessary. Sticky Fingers is fearless and flying into the Sierras.
Mile 653 and counting down!

Half lotus at mile 605!

2010-06-08T17:46:00.000-07:00

Starting to lose my flexibility...

2010-06-04T15:10:00.000-07:00

Hikers prepping food for the Sierras...

Town Suck. June 2.

2010-06-03T11:33:00.000-07:00

I can finally admit that this trail is harder than I thought it would
be. Each section seems to be more mind-bogglingly difficult than the
last, but if my tears are any indicator, I didn't cry or even think of
crying during the last 104 miles--and they were brutal. Success!

I left the Saufley's alone (which was rather depressing) determined to
hike to Mojave, CA in four days. That meant at least 26 per day, which
at this point in the trip was totally doable. The heat had cranked up
a notch since last week, and I would be facing long waterless
segments. Better to move quickly...

Team Zero was sending me pics from two days ahead, including a sweet
hitch into Lake Hughes, CA for Philly Cheesesteaks and ice cream. But
things get weird when you are alone, and suddenly walking all day
without the distractions of other people, long breaks, and gluttonous
food stops seems reasonable, and even preferable...

On my first day back on the trail I met Ann, a former investment
banker who has run every day for 30 years, carries a reflective
umbrella on the trail and has bright pink painted nails. I just knew
we would get along. Yet, strangely, solitude won out for both of us,
as we only spent a brief break together at the Hikers' Oasis, a water
(beer and soda, too) cache, and later as I cooked my dinner before
departing for another few miles before dark. It's the curse of being
alone. The constant need to continue competes with the urge to stop
and chat, creating a dichotomy in your emotions on the trail. I want
to be with people, yet I want to be alone.

Green Tortuga expressed the same sentiment as he left the Saufley
house, having hiked for weeks with Charmin, and now leaving for the
desert, alone, pressed by an internal schedule, by the omnipresent
drive to experience the trail and the guilt of spending too much time
in town. It's called town suck. You are sucked in by the supposed
creature comforts that you believe you need, juxtaposed with the guilt
of enjoying things that you know you can survive without. You try to
flee, some fail and never emerge from the vortex. Others make it out
but subsequently may long for the luxuries and the companionship of
others.

On Day 2 post-Saufleys I didnt see a soul the entire day. My ipod ran
out of juice, and I almost ran out of water, but I managed 28 miles,
and I hit my halfway point. It's not as much fun when you have to take
pictures of yourself.

The next morning I made it to Hikertown, a toyland-looking western
town built on the edge of Hwy 138 and the LA acqueduct. I met a few
hikers and then fled (there's that bizarre drive again). I walked all
17 waterless miles of the acqueduct alone (and thought I might lose my
mind out of boredom), but while sitting on the dirt road a toothless
rancher pulled up in his beatup pickup.

"Hey little lady, be careful of the rattlers. They're out right now. I
seen some big ones tonight...the Mojave Green....and be careful of
strangers, too. " It was like a scene out of a desert version of
Deliverance. That was the shortest break I took on the entire trail.

Just as I approached my campsite for the night, I caught Running Wolf
who was limping and swearing at the ferocious headwind. The wind was
so intense that I decided to forego sleeping and just got up at 3:30.
I said goodbye to Running Wolf then I fled at 5:30am (trail dichotomy
again) and climbed over 4000ft for a view of the entire last week's
worth of walking! The final moments of yesterday's trek into Mojave
town were spent directly under the huge wind turbines. I was in awe
and thankful to still be in such good shape to enjoy the scene. I then
promptly got lost just one mile from the road from too much gawking, I
suppose. Oh well, the other 103 went just fine.

At the risk of being sacrilegious to one of my favorite bands, the
song for this section is Metallica's Nothing Else Matters: "So close
no matter how far. Couldn't be much more from the heart. Forever
trusting who we are. And nothing else matters." Not even a Philly
girl's cheesesteak in the desert. Battling town suck is rough, but I
emerged from the vortex.

I'll be slowing down in Mojave,CA for a few days, then pushing forward
for my final stretch alone before the Sierras. Stay tuned for more on
the Mojave Spaceport. 10-4 from the vortex at Mile 559!

2010-06-01T16:29:00.000-07:00

Examining the rivets of the LA acqueduct...mile 525! Hot, dry, and
windy! Only another 10 miles of this to go!

Hikertown! Mile 518!

2010-06-01T11:56:00.000-07:00

2010-06-01T08:12:00.000-07:00

The elusive Mojave desert and the LA acqueduct--today's challenge.
Mile 516!

Mile 500!

2010-05-31T16:20:00.000-07:00

Hiker Heaven: an oasis in the desert. May 29.

2010-05-29T19:36:00.000-07:00

Fourteen years ago Donna Saufley decided she wanted a purpose in life
and she discovered the Pacific Crest Trail running just one mile from
her and her husband, Jeff's, home. She had never hiked the trail, but
she knows exactly what hikers need at 455 miles into their odyssey,
and has hosted nearly 3500 hikers since 1996.

I arrived yesterday afternoon, went through the gate marked with a PCT
trail sign and was greeted by John Deere (note that at Hiker Heaven I
am often confused by who is hiking this year, who is a past year
volunteer, and who is just a trail angel staying at the Saufleys), who
gave me the run down.

First stop: the laundry tent. Pick out flipflops, and any combo of
clean clothes , separated in bins marked "tshirts", "long pants",
"dresses" and entire bin of "Saufleys Electric" hooded sweatshirts.
Place all dirty clothes in mesh bag, put name on sticky note and place
in garage in the laundry line. Clean clothes will reappear on front
porch in several hours.

Second stop: Grab towel and wash cloth, and head toward RV. Place name
on whiteboard shower list on RV bathroom door. (I was fifth in line)
In the interim find a cot in one of nine huge tents (the RV rooms are
reserved for couples) and throw your backpack on there. "Party" tents
are around the fire pit. Quiet tents are back by the horse corral. (I
opted for a quiet tent since the drinking and singing had already
begun. It was actually pretty quiet, apart from the fact that the
horses kept sneaking over by my tent to fart all night long.)

Food can be prepared and stored in the communal hiker kitchen in the
RV. Mark your name on your food in the fridge. (I bought two yogurts
in town and could almost not find room...someone needs to clean this
thing out and it's not going to be me.) Communal spaghetti dinner
tonite, vegan or meat.

RV living room has a TV, computer for Internet access, free wifi, and
one phone devoted to hikers to call anywhere in the world for free.
(Not surprisingly the hiker who took a whole package of fig bars from
the trail magic at Mile 252, "The couch", was hogging the phone.)

Bins outside the RV are the hiker boxes--take what you want, leave
what you don't. (These were the largest size rubbermaid bins marked
for gear, clothing, toiletries, stove parts, reusable shoes and two
for food. I was curious about finding some shampoo and peeked in one
bin. I saw about twenty travel sizes of shampoo, deoderant, bars of
soap, five tubes of Desitin--helps with chaffing, bandaids, moleskin,
floss, toothpaste, sunblock, and so on. Turns out that the bathroom
was fully stocked with shampoo, conditioner, pumice stone, bath gel,
tootpaste, body butter, qtips, razors, and a scale which said that I
have not lost or gained a single pound. The one in Pasadena said I had
gained five. I'm not sure which one to believe, but as I write this I
happen to be eating a brownie sundae...)

There are ten bikes for use to go to town (1 mile away and a pretty
fun ride on the bike) or you can place your name on a whiteboard with
where you want to go and a ride will be arranged. (Many hikers needed
to get to an REI to purchase new gear or clothes.) If you need to sew
anything, use the Singer machine on the front porch. Three extra
portapotties behind the horse corral.

I was dizzy with all the information, but happily accepted a beer from
a hiker I had never met before. Tonite we are having a catered meal,
courtesy of a past hiker's family, chilling in town for the holiday.
Let the trail lore emerge....I see a late night around the fire
pit...although I will probably be antisocial and just get a good
night's sleep.

Thanks to all of my personal trail angels for sending boxes! I'll be
fueling many hikers with tortilla chips and espresso beans over the
next 104 miles, although at this point I have not met any that I want
to hike for any extended period of time... Let the race against the
Mojave heat begin!

Losing the Team but Finding Myself. May 28.

2010-05-28T23:28:00.000-07:00

This blog was going to be entitled "Low point on a High Point" after
my tumultuous solo ascent of Baden-Powell, but since Wednesday I found
a new sense of strength on the trail which only emerged after
surviving alone for three whole days...

Wednesday morning Ani departed, leaving me to contend with Mt Baden
Powell. The trail switchbacks were fine until the snow buried them
completely. I made a few wrong turns in sight of Special 41, Dr. No
and Old Man Turbo...I hate it when that happens. The dumb girl in the
skirt doesn't know where she's going.

Soon there was no where left to go but vertical. Solid snow as far up
as I could see. The three guys stopped for a break and I decided to
begin kicking steps to the summit, at least another mile up. Once on
top, the wind was fierce (and I should mention here that I hate wind),
the clouds were rolling in, and I stood atop a shear ridgeline that
stretched another seven miles in front of me.

I had accomplished the climb, but that was the easy part: just go up
regardless of where the trail really is. The tough part was descending
without breaking a leg or getting lost. This required negotiating the
windy crest, avoiding the snow patches, but constantly surveying for
the trail, which would occasionally pop out from under the snow to
entice me.

I made a few wrong turns. I cried, and I also screamed at myself when
I had to backtrack uphill to find the trail again. Eventually I
redeemed myself, hitting a campground as The Graduate and Picker were
starting a campfire. They were stunned when I cooked my dinner and
continued on...I just had to get out of the snow, plus it was
difficult to commune with two 20-somethings who admitted having $11 to
their name and no maps of the next section.

I walked until 7:30pm and had a beautiful sunset from my tent. The
views from a cloudy day on Baden Powell may not have been worth the
effort, but the sense of accomplishment was. It rained really hard
that night. I was impressed that my tent withstood the pounding. I
guess that I have learned something, considering that my tent fell
over on me at least twice on this trip.

The next two days were road walking. Many cursed it, but I loved it,
especially when I realized that my iphone google maps had even better
suggestions for road detours. I hitched into Little Rock for a burger,
fries and shake. Then I walked into Acton for pancakes and sausage the
next day.

On my way out of town Musk Ox called me to say goodbye. He was two
days ahead of me, still at the Saufleys, but waylaid by tendonitis,
and headed home for some recovery. I walked fast to catch him just in
time. (a photo of us at the Saufleys, above) I couldn't convince him
to even hike slow with me. Back to the "I'm looking for cool people to
hike with" drawing board. Maybe I'll find my next victim here in Agua
Dulce. Stay tuned for an entry on Hiker Heaven--the Saufley's house.

Song for this section is NIN's "Home": "To break from what we're tied
to, God knows how much I've tried to." I've made a break, tested
myself and I succeeded after much second-guessing. It was hard, but I
guess that it can only get easier from here??

2010-05-28T17:29:00.000-07:00

Vasquez Rocks County Park, famous Hollywood back drop (Star Trek, 24,
MacGyver, Little Miss Sunshine). Mile 454!

2010-05-28T06:26:00.000-07:00

Road Magic!! Station Fire Road Detour, Mile 412! Thank you to the town
of Little Rock!

Snow Warrior on Mt Baden Powell. 9500ft!

2010-05-27T13:47:00.000-07:00

Not my best form....

2010-05-26T08:39:00.001-07:00

Saying goodbye to Pasadena and dropping the kids at school! Nairy
(10), Aram (3) and Talar (9)

So a funny thing happened on my way to the detour....May 25.

2010-05-25T22:24:00.001-07:00

Team Zero left Monday at 5:45am to tackle Mt. Baden Powell. I said
goodbye and turned over in my hotel futon. Who was I kidding? Despite
my most ardent attempts at being lazy and slothful, I am a terrible
hotel sleeper, and even worse at sleeping in. It was a rough night,
but I would be seeing my good friend, Ani, from Pasadena, we would
catch up over lunch and I would get an afternoon start at the
trailhead for a nine-mile day.

All of this sounded acceptable until I realized how good it was to
chat with a longtime friend after many days leapfrogging with
acquaintances on the trail. We blabbed a mile a minute, starting a new
topic before finishing the last. But then again, for 12 years we have
always had a frenetic quality to our conversations. The lead I had on
my own schedule started to matter less, and the idea of taking time
off with friends now sounded more appealing than bumming around a
Motel 6 in Mojave, CA, by myself, waiting for Happy JO until June 10.

It took me about one hour to come around to the idea of a vacation
from the trail in Pasadena. Once I had decided, there was no looking
back:

...accept when we passed the McDonalds at Cajon Pass where I vied for
the calorie-consumption championship. It took me two days to walk from
there. It took us 8 minutes to drive.

...accept when we passed the wind farms on I-10. It didn't look quite
as hot from our air-conditioned minivan, but the drop from Fuller
Ridge looked enormous. Did I really do that?

...accept when I found myself sucked into the vortex of the
neverending desert resort of Palm Springs. It seemed so green and
pleasant on the ground, rather than the sprawl of urban lights and
cell phone reception we could never seem to get past while on the
ridge thousands of feet above.

We picked up the kids from school, ate ice cream, caught up on all the
Armenian gossip in Pasadena, stuffed our faces with hoummus, pita and
lamb kebab, and I had the most luxurious shower on the trail so far. I
think I might even use the bidet before I Ieave.

I realized that facial scrub almost removes my armpit smell, and that
my face is starting to get that wierd nose, jaw, mouth tan like
mountaineers. When you have a huge mirror to stare at yourself, you
begin obsessing about how bad you look after just three weeks on the
trail. My nose is very sensitive to smell, my ears very acutely tuned
to every noise. It appears that SoCal life is filled with many unusual
smells and an almost riotous nonstop racket. Nonetheless, the
Kenderians and Manjekians of Pasadena think I look great and that I am
a superwoman on the trail.

Just as important, Team Zero, now safely on the other side of Baden
Powell have convinced me that I can be a superwoman--The snowy summit
is within my reach.

Tomorrow I will strike out from Inspiration Point and climb Baden
Powell. Not a single type of snow traction footwear (crampons,
microspikes or yak trax) exist in SoCal, so I bought a cheap pair of
hiking shoes to give me some tread. Once I get off the snow, I'll
ditch the hiking shoes at the road for the next trail sucker, put my
sneakers back on, and cruise the remaining 60 miles to Agua Dulce,
arriving just on schedule.

I had a wonderful time visiting friends, my stomach is full, my head
overwhelmed with new thoughts, and I'm ready for the rush of hiking
once again!

A quote from Jack London: "the proper function of man is to live, not
to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them."

More word from the other side.

The Detour of all Detours. May 24.

2010-05-24T06:04:00.001-07:00

This year has been an incredibly heavy snow year in California, and we
had a good storm yesterday, luckily while we were in town and not at
9000ft.

This morning the rest of Team Zero is headed up Mt Baden Powell,
cresting at 9400ft and following approximately 8 miles of snowy ridge
line. I decided to avoid the snow this time, since without crampons
for my sneakers I am worried that Slippy Feet will make another
appearance and either endanger herself or the rest of the group.

Instead I will combine three detours in one: around Mt Baden Powell,
circumventing the endangered yellow-legged frog, and the burned-out
region of the Station Fire of 2009. This combination results in 47
miles of road walking and 16 miles of trail, of which about 8 are
actually on the official PCT. To be honest, I must admit that I really
like road walking. That fact usually stuns other hikers out here,
similar to my obsession with manmade structures on the trail--
windmills, mines, and dams.

This will put me ahead of schedule by almost two days now, and
arriving at "Hiker Heaven", the hiker oasis at the Saufleys house
later this week. I can't wait to get my new sneakers!

Fresh snow at 6000ft. Mile 370!

2010-05-23T08:18:00.001-07:00

I'll be staying in with some coffee and flip-flopping around town.

Victory in the Desert. May 22.

2010-05-22T18:50:00.000-07:00

This 100+ mile section was full of hot, nasty climbs, requiring full-
on concentration and a penchant for suffering. Thankfully, thru-hikers
like to suffer, but instead they call it enjoying the wilderness.
Team Zero left Big Bear City with five days of food, and certainly my
heaviest pack yet. We covered 26 miles that day, and I hiked until 8pm
at night, totally worn out, having gotten lost during the afternoon,
trapped within a fenced off "no trespassing" area, and fording two
creeks in the last hour. I followed some strange looking tracks for
about the last five miles--too large to be trekking poles dragging in
the sand and too narrow to be bike tires. Within 200 yards of the
campsite I ran into an abandoned shopping cart stuffed with a sleeping
bag and pillow. I poked it with my pole but I was too scared to touch
it or take a photo. I'm glad I was sleeping near the rest of Team Zero
that night.
The next day I babied my sore feet with an enhanced (and much heavier)
first-aid kit replete with tape, moleskin, band-aid blister pads,
gauze, neosporin and tincture of benzoin--pretty much anything to
halt, desensitize, lessen, or mask the blister pain. We crossed the
300-mile mark and also rolled into the clothing-optional hot springs,
right on the trail...more wierdos, Euros going full monty and hiker
dudes wearing skirts. Half-ounce juggled five oranges of trail magic
as nude men trickled behind him cheering and taking photos. I just
wanted them to get out of my camera frame. Warner Springs Monty
brought in ice cream drumsticks, ice cream sandwiches on dry ice and
Carls Jr hamburgers. Another good day of trail magic!!!
My feet were hanging on for dear life, as were many in the gruop. The
temperatures over the next two days reached 101F, but we had a laugh
when one of our thermometers read 156F in the sun. That was a really
sweaty day.
My stench has matured to an official hiker smell, combining scents of
musky BO, ramen seasoning and acetone. This is a smell that
infiltrates your clothing, tent, and sleeping bag and continuously
oozes from your pores. You cannot stop it. No soap or deoderant can
eliminate it. It is your diet, toxins leaving your system and...well,
a general lack of showering in 100 degree heat.
We definitely stank up the McDonalds after a 26-mile day through the
dry San Bernadino Mountains, but that didn't stop us from collectively
inhaling over 14,000 calories of fast food. The calorie-consumption
championship went to the Walking Sisters, Aya and Sayo, who each
consumed over 2300 calories, pulling in the win with an Angus burger
with mushrooms, mayo and swiss, ten-piece chicken nuggets, supersize
fries and Coke, and an 8oz. McFlurry.
Team Zero hiked over 100 miles in four days, leaving only 4.8, at
least two of which were on more snow, for this morning. My friend
David came up from San Diego and picked us up at the road, bringing
shoes for Cubby and gourmet chocolate for us to share! (see our happy
photo above)
I am again soaking my feet in Wrightwood, but I am happy to report
that I have conquered the mammoth bottom-of-the-foot blister. Time to
recover after another grueling section.
Song for this section: "Uprising" by Muse..."They will not force us.
They will stop degrading us. They will not control us. We will be
victorious." After listening to this during the last 104 miles, I am
fairly certain that they were writing about desert blisters. Here's to
victory over blisters, and 84.9 miles to the Gateway to the Mojave
Desert--the Saufleys house in Agua Dulce.
For more on our trip and to read my featured column of ridiculous
quotations, "known as Sticky Notes", go to www.trailjournals.com/bostonandcubby
.

2010-05-21T14:03:00.001-07:00

Just another day at the shooting range...and still cookin' at mile 352!

2010-05-20T17:58:00.000-07:00

The golden arches at mile 342!! I just consumed 2040 calories...

2010-05-20T06:27:00.000-07:00

Edge of LA sprawl and the mountains to come! Mile 320.

2010-05-20T06:01:00.000-07:00

Trail magic at the hot springs! Mile 306! Thanks, Warner Springs Monty!

Town. May 17.

2010-05-17T17:09:00.000-07:00

People often wonder what happens to thru-hikers when they go into
towns along the trail. How do they get there?
What do they do there? How long do they stay?

Big Bear City is the third "major" town on the PCT. Population 6,025.
Big Bear is spread out over several miles, hugging Big Bear Lake, and
creating a resort-style town, mostly for ski bums from LA. The PCT
intersects Hwy 18 just five miles east of Big Bear City.

Yesterday morning we hiked ten miles in three hours, hit the road at
9am, and immediately prepared for the hitch. The art of the hitch
requires a good connection with the driver (remove sunglasses and
hats, smile profusely) and at a location that allows them to see you,
decide if you are safe to pick up and immediately pull over. With five
people it can be tough, so you typically put a girl in front while the
others hide. We let my pink camo gaiters do the work for us.

You either are invited into the car, and hope that the driver doesn't
mind your stench, or you are sent into the bed of the truck.
Unfortunately, as we soon found out, California law does not allow
people to sit in the back of pickups. To circumvent this requires the
artful leap and duck, launching yourself over the side into the truck
bed, and immediately ducking out of sight. Last night's dinner hitch
had all five of us laying down in the bed of a Datsun pickup truck.
(see evidence above) It was a much needed hitch, as my bottom-of-the-
foot blister had just broken while crossing an intersection, my flip-
flop was soaking wet, and I was yelling, "My water broke! My water
broke!"

Warner Springs Monty appeared in Big Bear to set up a BBQ at the
hostel and gave us a hitch in his pickup...we fit three in front and
five in the covered bed. That was a first for mega-hiker Monty, so we
got some pictures.

It is sometimes easier to just go right up to someone at an
intersection and ask, explaining that you only need to go a mile or
so. I got my first hitch on the back of a motorcycle that way. All in
all, you don't want to ever walk around in spread out towns...so you
rely on good hitches to and fro the grocery store (for resupply of
food), the pharmacy for Vitamin I (ibuprofen) and Epsom salts, the
post office (to receive your boxes of stuff and to mail heavy things
home or ahead) and the multitude of high-calorie meals that are
required for refueling your body.

So far in Big Bear, I have had three meals at Thelma's: Eggs Benedict
with roasted potatoes and fresh OJ (a definite waste of calories in my
non-trail life), prime rib with a baked potato (garnished with a whole
scoop of sour cream and butter: another "real life" no-no) salad and
apple pie a la mode, and this morning's less dense choice of two eggs,
French toast and two sausages. In between meals I have to read the
next section's maps, plan meals for all those days, soak my feet three-
four times per day, ice my latest injury (right now it's a swollen
sacrum from pack rubbing), and determine what I can reduce in weight
on my pack. Today I am cutting off extra lengths of straps all over my
pack. I also ingest ice cream (team zero shared a half-gallon of
Reeses peanut butter cup yesterday), a requisite bag of tortilla
chips, and fruit. Generally the first day out of town makes for lots
of bathroom stops on the trail.

I also shower several times, hopefully with shampoo (this time I found
it in the "hiker box" of leftovers at the Motel 6) but the smell
doesn't really subside completely. Laundry is another chore that
limits what you can do for several hours. If you see people walking
around in long underwear and windbreakers, they are probably hikers
waiting for their cycle to finish.

I would not describe town stops as relaxing. They are the business
days in between the vacations. We had a "nero" yesterday--a near
zero-- and a Zero day today. I am looking forward to finishing this
madness and getting back to the "relaxing" part--the walking.

Reality Check. May 15.

2010-05-16T21:14:00.000-07:00

Warner Springs Monty says that 50% of the hikers who start at Mexico
will quit by Idyllwild, 179 miles in. It is probably better that they
quit when they do, since the 86-mile section after Idyllwild is one
huge reality slap in the face.

Puss-filled blisters? Check. Nine straight hours of snow traversing?
Check. 50+ miles of limping? Check. Sand travel in 95-degree heat?
Check. Scaring a brown bear off the trail? Check. Passing hikers that
had started at MX over one week ahead of me? Check.

These last few days have been filled with challenges...physical and
mental, probably the most difficult things I have ever done. I learned
that I like to be in control, but out here that is impossible, and
probably stupid to even try.

Team Zero decided to conquer Fuller Ridge, a climb to 9000ft on north
facing slopes covered in snow, and a 6500 ft decent to desert temps
and wind farms. Due to the high snow levels the official PCT has been
detoured to skip 36 miles all the way to Interstate 10. Instead we
endured nearly nine hours on snow, slipping, sliding, and falling on
my butt at least 20 times. Based on the scattered footprints, only
about 25 or so hikers have made it through, and I certainly have the
bruises and scrapes to prove it. I tried to maintain a certain level
of hubris and pump myself up with the Ludacris line "I don't really
think there's anyone as bomb as me." Instead I was like a bomb
exploding on the trail, slipping down the slope in my flowery skirt,
flying up over my head, over and over and over again.

Ironically the previous night I had staged a motherly intervention
with the 20-something Florida boys, who were both feeling knee pain
and were part of the thru-hiker sick ward at the Idyllwild Inn. They
were determined to soldier on, but Tenspot (formerly known as Shane)
and I convinced them to skip the snow and huge descent in order to
save their bodies for the remaining 2500 miles of their trip. I am
proud that they listened to me, but I was wondering why I didn't take
my own advice, as I glissaded down a rock-encrusted, snowy slope for
the tenth or so time.

Team Zero then hit the swarthy desert at I-10, cruising through deep
hot sand, surrounded by trains and wind turbines, leading to the
beginnings of the blister of all blisters: a deep fluid-filled pocket
under my metatarsal, an absolute deal-killer in the upcoming Mojave
desert.

Our final two days were hotter and more adventurous, with trail
washouts requiring route-finding in 105-degree heat, just after our
first bear sighting and another two mammoth rattlers. I let Alaskan-
born Tenspot handle the bear situation and I can honestly say that I
only thought of running away once. It was all too exciting. That
evening I cowboy camped in crisp 23-degree temps at 7700 ft. I tried
to bury my head into my sleeping bag for extra warmth, but my BO was
putrid, worse than a Paris metro at rush hour. I decided to let my
head suffer in the cold and enjoyed fresh air and starry night sky
instead.

These are all amazing experiences and I would not trade in one day,
one strange encounter, or infected blister for anything. However, it
is time for some serious rest, foot soaking and recuperation in Big
Bear City.

Song for this section: Jay-Z's brilliant remix "Young
Forever" ..."life is for living, not for living uptight." Here's to
being 34-years-young and another 107 miles of living to Wrightwood.
265 miles done? Check.

(Photo above is Tenspot, Cubby, Boston and Half-ounce enjoying the
trail magic at mile 252.)

Living large at mile 252.

2010-05-16T07:04:00.000-07:00

Sweet trail magic!!

2010-05-13T17:31:00.000-07:00

Pete Townsend windmill at Mesa Wind Farm. Mile 213!

2010-05-13T13:14:00.000-07:00

Heading toward I-10 and the wind turbines! Mile 200!

Ninjas, Cowboys and the Emergence of Team Zero. May 11.

2010-05-11T06:34:00.000-07:00

The last 69 miles (plus 3.7 non-PCT miles in and out of town) was
groundbreaking territory as a thru-hiker. I knew I had to start early
in Warner Springs, alone again, in order to catch up to my new group
of friends, who would be leaving town two miles ahead of me on a
different road: Boston and Cubby (two women from Nebraska who have
hiked the Appalachian Trail and the Continental Divide Trail
together), Shane (a 33-year-old software guy from Seattle who quit
his job, stopped shaving, and is taking a year-long respite from the
rat race), Half Ounce (a solo 30-something veteran hiker and
mountaineer) and DD (pronounced "Double D" which stands for Dumbass
Dan--not what you were probably thinking).

I started at the road at 6am and in the early morning light I achieved
a first: like a slinking ninja, I slipped by two tents, filled with
thru-hikers still in restful slumber, a move I will call "ninja
stealthing". At mile 22 (10 hours later!), physically and emotionally
exhausted, I caught the crew of new friends on a break (although in
retrospect, I think that they decided to wait for me).

We camped together and I finally felt comfortable hitting my next
milestone: camping without a tent and laying on a ground cloth only,
known as "cowboy camping." It was cold and breezy at about 5000 ft and
I slept better than any other night so far (this might have nothing to
do with cowboying, but rather the fact that I walked 23.5 miles in 11
hours). Thru-hikers LOVE to cowboy camp--it's light, uncomplicated,
and apparently gives you an unobstructed view of the stars, although I
have never been awake long enough to find out.

The next two days were fast, intense walking, nearly 25 miles a day,
climbing to 8600 ft in San Jacinto Wilderness and then descending
through two hours of snow, traversing and relying on GPS waypoints to
find our way. I would never have made it without them (and I think
they want to rename me "Slippy Feet" due to my innate clumsiness on
snow).

I met this group on a "zero" in Warner Springs and I'm with them again
in Idllywild. We hiked hard and we relax hard. We call ourselves Team
Zero (emblem above), because we know the importance, and readily
accept the expense, of a zero day in town.

Song for this section is Kid Cudi's Pursuit of Happiness: "I'm on the
pursuit of happiness and I know everything that shines ain't always
gonna be gold. I'll be fine once I get it; I'll be good." Onward and
upward in the pursuit of happiness. Next stop: Big Bear City in 87
miles.

Pigeon Pose at San Jacinto Peak

2010-05-10T13:30:00.000-07:00

Mile 173!

Feet, Water and Trail Magic. May 7.

2010-05-07T10:27:00.001-07:00

I have arrived in Warner Springs, population of ~1200. 109 miles down!
Six toes taped, but nothing that a "zero day" (a no-mileage day spent
resting and eating, usually in town.) can't fix. The last three days
have been true desert walking in the Anza-Borrego Desert--cacti, sand,
lizards and even a rattler that my right foot came within an inch of
stepping on. (The guys in the trail wanted to know how big it was. I
didn't stick around long enough after the rattle to find out.) I made
it through a 44-mile stretch without any natural water source, despite
it being a wet year. Thankfully enough, this was possible through the
kindness of trail angels, people who provide support for thru-hikers,
in this case by leaving water caches throughout the desert at
trailheads and road crossings. Yet, you can never rely on these, as
hikers before you may have exhausted the cache, which can be 50 or
more gallon jugs of water, sometimes only accessible by remote jeep
road AND a hike by a trail angel.

After leaving Scissors Crossing, I was carrying 6.5 L of water up a
13+ mile climb at mid-day on totally exposed steep contours, no shade.
The incredible views made up for the pain my shoulders were feeling,
and I arrived at the next (and thankfully still available) water cache
by 6pm. I camped that night with Musk Oxe (a 27-year-old wilderness
youth therapy guide--think Brat Camp) and the Florida guys (just can't
shake them!) The next day was a solid 18 miles through dry meadows and
sandy outcrops culminating in the gorgeous lunch time spot I had in
the San Jose del Valle (see above).

I made it to Warner Springs yesterday, but my resupply box was no
where to be found. Fortunately, through the kindness of the thru-hiker
network, mega-hiker Warner Springs Monty (off the trail, but trail
angeling currently) heard about my plight and brought me four days of
food to get me to Idllywild! Thanks to everyone who called and spread
the word so quickly. I really love the incredible community of thru-
hikers and angels that make all of this possible.

Now to soak my feet at the mineral hot springs, let my blisters dry
out, wash my socks and do it all over again tomorrow. I hear snow and
colder weather are in my near future.

Song for this section: Sting's "Let your Soul be your Pilot". I
wonder if Sting wrote this song while he, too, was hiking through the
desert without a water report and Eric the Black's sometimes
lackluster PCT Atlas. At least that's how I interpret it....I'll let
my soul do the walking. 69 miles to Idyllwild.

Scissor legs at Scissors Crossing!

2010-05-05T11:43:00.001-07:00

It's a love-hate kinda thing. May 4

2010-05-04T20:37:00.000-07:00

I started walking at 6am this morning, alone, and as it turns out I
walked the whole day by myself. I left the last group of boys
yesterday at lunch and never saw them again. Today I met four more as
I was arriving at a picnic area and they were leaving. One of them,
whom I will call Boot Boy, was complaining of foot pain. I took one
look at him, a college student at Oregon State wearing big leather
hiking boots, and knew that I would be passing him on the trail very
soon. The rest of them were going down, too. They just didn't know it
yet.

Today I felt strong and purposeful with every step. I saw the vast
Anza-Borrego desert for the first time early this morning, and I got
so emotional at the beauty that is unfolding in front of me. The
brown, scrubby rolling hills, dotted with rugged outcrops of boulders,
look dark and foreboding, like they are hiding some top secret
military operation (see my previous post). I spent a lot of today
wondering what is going on here in the desert and why I am walking
through it. No real answers yet on either account, but I did see a lot
of military helicopters flying overhead.

There are moments when the trail is demanding and difficult, and this
is part of the reason why I was once quoted as saying that I hike 98%
for love (for Happy JO, my hubby) and 2% for actual enjoyment. Well,
maybe I spoke too soon. I sort of enjoyed walking alone all day AND
passing all four guys later in the day. I gave Boot Boy a lecture
about foot care on the trail and I smirked as I told the Florida guys
that I had started five miles before them this morning. We are camped
together tonight with about six others (above photo is our campsite).
25.4 more miles down. Song for the day: Armin van Buren's In and Out
of Love. I definitely have a love-hate relationship with the trail.
Let's hope the next 25 miles can be just as amazing as the last.

Getting my groove on. May 3

2010-05-03T21:18:00.000-07:00

This morning there was no scurry of border patrol cars. No clothes or
cans of food stashed for immigrants crossing into the US on the trail.
This morning was just quiet, pristine walking, climbing into the
mountains through sandy trail (dotted with hundreds of hiker
footprints), flanked by sagebrush, manzanita and beautiful ( insert
name here) desert flowers. Yet, I don't ever recall leaving camp and
sweating by 7:30am. While the temperature was no more than 72 or 73F,
the sun was shining like a laser beam onto me all day.

Today was a long day of gradual climbing, approximately 3000ft over 20
miles. The climb got tougher as the sun arced through the sky and
there was nowhere to escape. At noon I had walked 11 miles and I was
getting frantic to find some shade. I passed by Jake, a 6'3" 22-year
old, crunched under the shade of a large overhanging boulder on the
side of the trail. I walked another few miles and found a tree--the
lone tree within 10 miles large enough to create a hiker-friendly
shadow. I dried out my sleeping bag and tent in the sun, rested my
feet and ate lunch--Manchego (on day 2 and getting a little warm and
greasy) and some bread. While I was stuffing my face, a fire ant bit
me on on the bottom of my foot. Why did it have to be my foot?

I carried three liters of water to start, as the water report said
creeks were flowing, some in which PCT hikers have not seen water in
five or more years. I saw a bobcat shoot across the trail in front of
me. (I assumed it was a mountain lion that was going to eat me, but a
local corrected this erroneous suggestion.)

I picked up my first box in Mt Laguna (43 miles in) and thought I had
packed myself an Indian meal. Instead I am faced with three days of
ramen noodles. Well, make that four--tonight I had some for dinner,
too. Tomorrow I'll plan to head out early--the SoCal sun is brutal.
I'm definitely getting into thr groove. Cue song for the day:
California Love Remix by 2Pac and Dr. Dre. "California...knows how to
party"

Men to boys. May 2

2010-05-03T05:57:00.000-07:00

Men to boys. May 2
In everyday society people tend to agree that women talk more than
men. Yet, if you put hundreds of men at mile one of a 2650-mile
journey with only one trail to walk on, trust me they will talk. And
talk. And talk. About gear, about all their trail experience, their
ability to find water, read maps, and anything else that gives them an
advantage over the male hiker in front of them.

Hiked about half of today alone so as to avoid the alpha male
showdown. There were about eight swarming around after my 7am
departure from the border. The sun was fierce as we climbed through
the manzanita-covered high desert ridges. I tried to rest my feet and
resist the urge to show up the men, who were acting as though they
were teaching me the ropes. I relaxed and tried not to listen to too
much music. Note to self: never bring along slow, potentially tear-
jerking songs when hiking alone. You lose face to the dudes if they
see you tearing up to Chris Brown. Rihanna makes me feel invincible.
I'll try more of her tomorrow.

I carried 4 liters of water today which was just about right. I picked
up 5 liters at Lake Morena campground about 21
miles north nd cooked a dinner of thai rice noodles and tuna (not my
favorite but the heaviest thing in my food bag). Camped on the
outskirts of the campground with four new friends: Yeti (from Israel),
Jake, John and Shannon (also a guy). The sun is setting after a total
of about 21 miles. Im exhausted and a little lonely. This is going to
be tough. We will be separating the men from the boys very soon.

Follow me this spring at: www.3ptbenders.com!

Splits at the border!

2010-05-02T18:41:00.000-07:00

Game on: PDX to SAN. May 1.

2010-05-01T12:27:00.000-07:00

Starting weight: 120 lbs
Base Pack Weight (BPW, weight of pack without food or water): 18.1lbs(this will need to be trimmed down within the first week, and no, it does not include my 600-page paperback novel. I'll even admit that I sent the second book in the series in a box for later in my trip. Ok, so maybe I was a little ambitious. Neither of these will likely be read until I return to Portland. They're going home. Buh-bye.)

Made it to PDX this morning with some time to spare. (thanks for the ride and the coffee, Jill) Wrapped my backpack in a turkey roasting bag (in order to keep the various straps and loops from getting caught in the airport luggage belts) and taped it up with duct tape. I have a small carry-on bag holding all critical components in individual zip-locs: toiletries, toilet paper, notebook and pen, maps for Section A.) Stood in line with a few hundred people going to Hawaii, looking fresh, coiffed, made-up and vaca fashionable. Their bags were not wrapped in turkey plastic and tape. They only had one ziploc in their carry-ons. I'm fairly certain that they were not toting around their own toilet paper or a contact lense case filled with ointment for armpit and butt chaffing.

I feel liberated from all the planning now, although a little sloppy and vagabondish in normal civilization. Tshirt, desert shirt, Velcro dork watch, straw cowboy hat and blindingly white sneakers. Not that any choice of clothing is particularly outlandish in Portland. I still went through the "I'm an elite flyer, therefore i am better than you"security line to a variety of awkward stares. Wait until i stop putting on deoderant, people.

Time to relax, journal and inhale a few good meals before tomorrow's 4:30am departure for the border. Ugh, I'm already sweating.

Just flying over Lake Tahoe now....I'll cover all the remaining distance of this two-hour flight by foot over the next two months. Less than 24 hours to MX. Nothing left to do but walk.

Packing in the calories

2010-04-28T09:10:00.000-07:00

Last night Cupcake prepared a perfect goodbye for me: fish curry (surely with some coconut or almond milk in it) with potatoes and asparagus. Desert was a bowl (remnants seen above) of Coconut Bliss--yummy, smooth cocunut milk-based ice cream. I had three different flavors after a full plate of curry, a small second helping, and cleaning the pan right at the stove. I think I got a few thousand calories in, or at least 30-40g of fat. Yum! Thank you, Cupcake!

Last week I visited Jake at rehab in Beaverton, and I was able to see him doing shoulder exercises (while standing, braced in and looking mighty tall I should add) and some movement in his legs while on the leg press! He and his mom, Margaret treated me to a 1300-calorie smoothie, "The Builder" (with how many grams of protein, Jake?), and subs for lunch! Thank you!!

5 days to MX!

2010-04-27T06:21:00.001-07:00

Test post of photo from my Iphone! My super white Adidas Sequence and dirty girl gaiters.

Test run on posting photos

2010-04-26T21:39:00.000-07:00

Test run on getting photos up! I decided to post a pic of my tent, pitched in my backyard of course. Also a shot of my general gear--the pink nanopuff, my waist belt for carrying extra water, my back pack, and as always, some cool shades. As soon as I can figure out how to get a few shots off my iPhone, I can definitely post some from the trail!

Fueling my body...and how you can participate

2010-04-19T18:14:00.000-07:00

So people have started to ask me what I will be eating on the trail...
Breakfast:
Cup of granola or other sugary, fatty cereal (that is prohibited in normal, healthy lifestyles)
Spoonful of instant coffee
1/4 cup of dry milk

Snacks:
Various Trader Joe's nuts, trail mixes, dried fruit, fried green beans, snap peas, plaintain chips, rye crisps, and pretzels

Lunch:
If I'm lucky I'll snag some yeasty bread or tortillas, real cheese and nitrite-free meat (probably not feasible in hiker towns like Julian, CA).

More snacks:
Paley Bars, Snickers Bars, Power Bars, just plain bars. ohh, and maybe a pop-tart or two or three, beef jerkey, turkey jerkey (all nitrite free)

Dinner:
Ramen, soba noodles, tuna packets, dried shitaki mushrooms, dried lentil, split pea & potato leek soups, dried miso soup, thai noodles, and once in each box I afford myself a slightly heavier indian meal (like Tasty Bite).

Chocolate-covered espresso beans sprinkled throughout the day to retain my stamina. I love chewing gum or sucking on Life-savers.

I love tortilla chips, coffee, chocolate (but hard to carry in the desert, so I will stuff it in my face immediately if sent to me), dried figs, and whole wheat fig, bluberry or raspberry bars (usually in the bulk aisle at natural food stores).

I hate mint and salmon jerky.

What can you send me? Generally after coming off of the trail, I am looking to have things different from what I have been eating for the last five days. Nutritious, high-quality food is good. Sweets and fatty things are good. I will try to eat 10,000 calories per day in town (and althought it sounds luxurious and pleasurably gluttonous, it is difficult and somewhat disgusting) and attempt to do this via meat, dairy, and lots of veggies and fruits. Plus a few pints of Ben and Jerry's. Maybe a few pints of beer, too.

I will enjoy anything that you send. Would love to receive letters without food, too. Thanks for your support.

--Sticky (12 days to go)

Tough training

2010-04-08T18:52:00.001-07:00

I thought it might be useful to talk training while training to cut the boredom down. Right now I am typing on my new and improved iPhone--3GS. I caved for speed. Way faster than the older one. And, sure, something better and faster, but not necessarily cheaper, will come out very soon. I don't care because I'm leaving in 21 days.

So, training. Right now I am on the stairclimber at the gym. Hour #2. Level 13. Sweating like a pig, breaking in my new Adidas Sequence and even wearing the socks I will have on the trail. This is the real foot training, letting my feet get hot and sweaty and figuring out where the blisters will form. I am a little worried about the small twinge in my right toe, the one I broke last summer right before our PCT trip in Oregon. Otherwise shoes feel great. Socks feel fat and cushy, perfect for the hard, dusty LA aqueduct. Eeww.

I have been spending at least one hour per day on the treadmill (3.8mph, 6-7% incline) for my hamstring workout or one hour+ on the stairclimber for my quad workout. Some days--soon three days per week--I walk 4 miles to the gym, do core exercises, weight training for legs, then 4 miles home. All of this is not for cardio but for repetitive movement training...where am I going to hurt after two to three days at 20+ miles/day?

Weekends are for longer outdoor hikes in Forest Park, with backpacks, poles and water. Big climbs for cardio. Plus, this is when we get to see Cupcake, and he and Happy JO critique my readiness for trail. I should have all my gear and food boxes done at the end of this week.

Now I'll get off the climber and go do some balancing on the Bosu ball. That part makes me feel tough because I pretend that I am pummeling my enemies with roundhouse kicks. Who am I kidding? I don't have any enemies..

Next post: what I will be eating for two months and tips on what to send me!

--Sticky ( -871 calories, must replenish with a burger)

Food and more gear

2010-03-30T09:14:00.000-07:00

I am close to 30 days out from the trip and in the last two weeks I finally got my last few pieces of clothing and sneakers. With little risk of rain, I opted to avoid the extra weight of a rain jacket, and instead purchsed a lightweight windbreaker shell, Houdini. At 4 oz, this should give me enough protection from wind and any light moisture I encounter.

Second, I had a realization last summer on the PCT that I really do not like vests. Determining that my years of fleecy vests were imposed by my thru-hiking husband, and also because I simply fit in better in Portland, I thought carefully about how useful one would be in SoCal. My conclusion was that a full-sleeved down-like jacket might be nice--easy to slip on during cold desert mornings, compact, and super lightweight. While perusing Patagonia for my Houdini, I found the Nano Puff. Ten ounces of yummy warmth, and hot pink to boot.

Cupcake has returned from Austin and has announced his mission to motivate me. Over the last two weeks during our Saturday hikes, we have covered Iphone apps, maps, clothing, food, sewing kits, gaiters, ice axes and food. I am slowly reeling in this collection of thoughts and taking action. Food boxes are getting filled. We are now done with my dinners and breakfasts. Unfortunately, the classic thru-hiking powdered milk, Milkman, is no longer available. Excellent source of creamy fat in a pouch. So, instead I will have to suffer with nonfat dried milk for my breakfasts, add water, a bit of freeze-dried coffee and finally, the gritty, fatty, sweet granola.

I was also fitted for my sneakers at FitRightNW. I will use Adidas Supernova Sequence, one half-size larger, and WIDE. I debated whether to buy two pairs now, for fear that I will hate them 500 miles through, but I think I will be ok.

Things are getting very busy for me as the final month approaches. I hope that this journal will soon be less gear talk and more thoughts. I am sure that it will be.

31 days to MX.

Big strides off the trail: carrying and treating water

2010-03-14T20:11:00.000-07:00

Note: This post contains issues about parasites and their effects on specific biological functions. Continue reading at your own risk.

I accomplished a lot this weekend. Great strides toward the big PCT extravaganza. Applied for the permit. Arranged for my ride to the border. Bought my bear canister...at a whopping 2 lbs. 9 oz., I hope that after 700 miles, I might be strong enough to carry it.

I had some concerns about how to handle carrying extra water on the trail. There are some sections that require you to lug enough water for 25 miles, and carrying it all on your back isn't always the most convenient or comfortable way to do it. Enter the concept of the front pouch--the perfect place to add an extra 2.2lbs of water while storming through the Mojave. I bought the Double Shot and tested it out around my hips, bottles and pouch in front, with my backpack on my back, strap under the Double Shot. Worked perfectly. True, I was just sauntering around the paved paths of the cemetery, but I did climb several hundred feet three or four times, and I felt good. I little sweaty on my stomach, but I will survive.

Next was the big debate on how to treat my water. Filters are heavy and they clog, but some hikers swear by them.Water tastes fresh, you can drink it right away. Cons are that it takes time to sit and pump the filter, the filters jam, and require excessive cleaning or replacement parts. Chemical treatment can take upwards of 1 hour before you can drink, and you can walk and treat, while you can't walk and pump. Chemical treatment usually makes the water taste really bad, requiring some powdery drink (Crystal Light, Iced tea, Tang, etc) to mask the iodine, betadine or chlorine taste. I met some thru-hikers last summer in Oregon using a UV treatment system, a Steripen, so I thought I would try that out. The worst thing that could happen: exposure to some water-borne pathogen that I have probably already had. Notes on Steripen to follow, but first let me digress on my first-person experience with parasites.

Giardia? sometimes called "Beaver Fever" Had it. Picked it up on the Colorado Trail/Continental Divide Trail in 2007. I have met many PCT thru-hikers who believed that they have had giardia because they threw up or got lots of diarrhea. Typically that is the result of food poisoning, or frankly, just poor hygiene. (always remember to clean your pot and eating utencils while in town) My experience with giardia was that it didn't hit me until almost two weeks after my trip. I felt tired, crampy, and had gas that smelled like sulfur. Plus your poop floats--the tell-tale sign that your body is not digesting fat. Giardia is easily cured with a prescription of Flagyl, which temporarily makes you feel worse than the giardia symptoms. It hurts, but you will finally finish the dosage and you will get better. You sometimes need to give a stool sample to get the prescription = time-consuming and costly.

Cryptosporidium? Had it. I got this lovely little bug on the Colorado Trail in 2008. This parasite does what everyone falsely claims about giardia--it incapacitates you, first with weakness, then by purging every remaining calorie from your system out of both ends. It is vicious to the point that you cannot drink water or even suck on ice cubes. It lasted on and off for three weeks for me. (I did, however, manage to bag two 13,000ft+ peaks, Mt. Flora and Mt. Eva, during this illness. Cheers for me. Owen you are a lucky man.) I had to give a stool sample (three weeks after the trip) and they gave me something to help stop the persistent stomach cramps. Within hours I felt better. I did lose about 10 pounds, though.

And finally, my favorite parasite so far in my life: Round worms. Had them in Nepal in 2005. Apparently I picked them up somewhere in Kathmandu, either in the water or in the food. Two weeks later I pulled a 12" worm from my butt. Thankfully we were within several hours walking distance from the last clinic before Everest. At about 16,000ft, I met a doctor stationed there from Colorado, who told me that there were many more inside me, and that with one $50 pill I could dislodge all of their teeth from my intestines. The next few days were sketchy and uncomfortable to say the least, but this story has made me a legend in the thru-hiker world. Go figure.

Back to the Steripen Adventurer. With two CR123 batteries, I can treat up to 60 liters of water for all these microbes and more. It weighs only 3.6oz. Sounds perfect. Hope it doesn't cause me any trouble. Just in case I will carry a small packet of Potable Aqua Tablets.

Next challenge: setting up the stove and cooking a meal. 46 days to go.

Starting to feel overwhelmed

2010-03-04T07:17:00.001-08:00

It's less than 60 days before I leave and I was just hit by the realization that it is less than 60 days before I leave. I got my tent last week and set it up in the backyard. It sagged. I adjusted my trekking pole height (which is what creates the structure) and it still sagged. I got in anyway, accepting that I know myself and at some point I give up and become an 80%-er. "it's good enough..." I can already hear myself on the trail.

So, the iPhone...the sales guy was right. In about two days this little gadget figured out how I type, but as others warned, the battery life sucks. I can't get Cupcake's IGo foldable keyboard to interface with the iPhone so if I choose to keep it I'll be tapping away on the glowing screen like I am doing right now.

So next on my list is preparation of boxes that I want to mail to myself, deciding what to do about water treatment/filtration, and buying what seem like gargantuan sneakers to hold what will become my sore, blistered, swollen feet.

In actuality all of this can be done in about one week. I am merely fretting over details at the moment. I have a ride to the Mexican border. I have hiked over 1500 miles carrying my backpack, and slept at over 16,000ft with a sleeping bag colder than the one I am taking. I have run 50 miles, mostly in pain. I have pulled a 12" worm out of my butt (more details on this one when I write about water on the trail) and been forced to dance for Maoist rebels at gunpoint. I survived Baltimore for almost six years and made friends while living in a project in Birmingham, UK. But the reality is that all of this pales in comparison to Jake's experience. Jake suffered a C6 spinal cord injury, and could not move for months. Jake's family has given up a lot of things to support him, care for him, and be his cheering squad through the next stage of his life.

Jake has started rehab and really loves it. Jake loves life. I can do this.

58 days to go.

"Sticky"

Test blog from iphone

2010-03-02T20:11:00.001-08:00

Gave up on trying to make something work with Verizon. Just bought an
iPhone. This is a test.

It is feeling more real: Permits and Bear canisters

2010-02-23T08:16:00.001-08:00

Huh. So I can't just go out there and roam freely in the wilderness. There are some official logistics that need to be completed, so that someone knows that I am out on my own accord hiking like a maniac. First things first: applying for the Pacific Crest Trail Thru-Permit Request. For $5 I COULD walk the whole way from Mexico to Canada AND summit Mt. Whitney. I will stick with 1000 miles and thrown in Whitney for kicks. For mere mortals only seeking to summit the highest peak in the contiguous United States, the application process is rather competitive. I can apply for it all at once, and I get to do Whitney for "free." Lucky me.

Second thought of the day: Bears. I have seen bears while hiking before, once on the PCT in Washington, the other on the Colorado Trail in Lake City, CO as it raided a town trash can. In the starlit sky, I peeped out the motel window and thought it was a burgler. Guess you can tell that I am a city girl. So, back to bears. I have never carried a bear canister. This past fall at the ALDHA West (American Long Distance Hiking Association West) conference, I watched in a stunned stupor as fellow hikers competed in a bear-canister stuffing contest: How much food can you stuff into a bear canister in one minute? They looked large and bulky, like you are schlepping around a mini-keg on your back. I know that it is the rules, so I'll have to do it...but 11 days of food all in that canister? Not sure its gonna happen.

Tech Gear: communicating on the trail

2010-02-20T17:25:00.001-08:00

In the beginning, there was the pay phone, and I carried a toll-free number to call home. Then I got a cell phone and we carried it, left it off, and buried it in the deepest pocket of my backpack never to be used until my return to civilization. Emergencies only--we were being ridiculously purist about the whole wilderness experience. Eventually we realized that using the phone sporadically, but tactically, to, say, make reservations for a hotel room two days away would kick my walking into high gear. (Case in point: walking my first 30-mile day, followed by a 25-mile day with 1500-ft climb to get to Timberline Lodge so that I could relax and bask in the hotel's 1930s-era wrought iron detailing. For those that don't know, I am a metallurgist geek who will pull out all the stops for a good patina, or a glimpse of some 18th-century slag.) I will carry a phone this time, but I want to use it to call people, type my journal, dictate my thoughts and upload these to the web. Of course, in civilization we have addicts of the crackberry, in relentless pursuit of 24/7 connectivity, but a) I don't want or need to be in constant contact, and b) I don't even know if and when I will have a signal.

Cupcake/Keystone (www.cupcakewalk.com) is tech savvy, and used a variety of gadgets for his PCT (Pacific Crest Trail) and CDT (Continental Divide Trail) hikes. We talked about what might work best for me - large enough keyboard for typing, but not too heavy, good battery lifetime, camera, bluetooth capable (which is where my understanding begins to diminish), microphone for dictation, etc., etc. I think that the Samsung Alias II will work b/c it looks like a hinged cell phone (making me feel comfortable) but swivels into a QWERTY keyboard for typing. Battery life good. Normal size. Not too expensive. I plan to buy one and give it a 30-day test drive.

I aim to update my blog every few days, and I will certainly do my best to journal at night, although many times the exhaustion of the day sets in and after dinner, I fall fast asleep.

Now to begin preparation of my food boxes and to purchase my tent (Six Moon Designs Lunar Solo E).

70 days until the Mexican border.

"Sticky"

So I decided to walk 1000 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail

2010-02-14T20:25:00.000-08:00

At some point this past summer, while suffering through 325 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail in Oregon, covering my first 30-mile day, meeting amazing thru-hikers, sharing stories, skinny-dipping when I felt like it, I sensed an incomprehensible feeling of freedom and I knew that I wanted to do my own hike. Strangely, nine years ago when I met Happy ‘JO’ I had never hiked in my life. I claimed that 98% of my hikes were for love, but I slowly found myself craving the wilderness, the simple necessities of life on the trail, and the incredible companionship that only comes from letting go of all of your worldly belongings and walking with other crazy masochists in one direction for days on end.

I knew that I wanted to hike my own hike--and sometimes I justify it by saying that I am having an early mid-life crisis. I don’t know what I will uncover about myself, but I know that it will be hard, the desert will be hot, and that I will get the biggest blisters of my life. I also know that when I meet others on the trail, we will have an affinity that transcends the commonalities of everyday life. We will instantly understand the need for walking for weeks on end, the craving for clean water, dry weather, and a cheeseburger.

I knew that I needed to do another fundraiser, though, for something or someone that was meaningful to me and would motivate me in my darkest moments, when I wondered how I could have put myself in a 25-mile waterless stretch of 110 degree heat. Through my friend Anna, I met Jake French, and I can’t say enough about how much he motivates me to want to WALK. Every time that I feel like I can’t do it, I can think about Jake, and the motivation that he must conjure up every day during the rehabilitation process to move through every day activities.

So now I am preparing my schedule, my gear, and my food drops. I don’t know who I will start with, and I don’t really care. I won’t go to the annual day-zero kick off party (ADZPCTKO) simply because it is too early in the year, and I don’t want to get siked out. I plan to hook up with hikers along the way. And to all of you trail angels in LA (O’dark, Shadow, the Kenderians), I can’t wait to reunite with you.