Day 47: The Gaunlet Is Thrown

5/2/20; mile: 444; elevation: 2,244 ft.

Notice the elevation drop? It’s also getting warmer. But nevermind that, today is make or break town day. I had set the alarm for O’dark-thirty, was on trail and filling up with water before 7am. I’m going to see if I can impress Dock.

This section of trail is nastily overgrown with shrubs…meaning tick country. And there’s no way around it. Take some time through the day to look for them then move on. And then do it again. For the first half of the day, I’m on the shaded side of the ridges, so the hiking is quite easy and fast. Along the way, I get slightly off-trail to inspect a gate I saw and find Safety still in his tent. We chat briefly and then I take off.

On slight downhills, I can really stretch my legs and use the trekking poles to control the speed. I can’t use my feet due to the hot spots. On slight uphills, I power through with the poles and the legs to maintain speed. It’s only when the it gets steeper that I finally have to slow down. I got this. Carrying enough water for about 1/3 liter/mile, I’m staying hydrated enough it seems. It’s harder to keep fueled. That just takes time. But my feet certainly require breaks like yesterday, so that’s when I shove food in my gullet. Any food. Chex Mix, Fritos, peanut butter, trail mix, bars….repeat. Wash with water. Then filter more water. Repeat. Look at the app for the distance to the next water source, do the math, make the water, lace up the boots, march on. Sounds like fun, eh?

But on days like today for me, it is. My pack is light, it’s downhill, and I’m motivated. Watch out. One dry stop is the North Fork Picnic Area and Fire Station. Where the troll lives. Somehow I missed getting run off by this guy, but every other hiker who stopped here for the shade got scolded. Why out here? Who knows. Inconsistent rules and enforcement abounds.

The next stretch was miserable looking due to the exposure and PUDs (pointless ups-and-downs). Music time. First some ABBA, the Def Leppard. The next water source is several miles, but only 4 miles from my destination. Once back in view of the Mojave Desert, the PUDs abate (mostly) and it’s a straight shot downhill. With the end in sight, I don’t notice the pain in my feet as much, nor the sweat drenching my hat, buff and dripping on my phone. The terrain (and trail) meanders along the sides and tops of small ridges that spread out like octopus tenticles at the base of the mountains. Where will we go? End up? How much further?

The final water source has a ton of campsites and plenty of water, though it isn’t nearly as cold for my feet as the previous ones. I take the time to eat more of the same, “make” more water, and try to rest a little (without much shade), before marching on. Right as I’m packing up, Safety shows up. He’s done. He never planned to go the whole way, why pay for lodging when you arrive late in the day? And his feet and knees were feeling the brunt of many downhill miles. Me? I think I have something to prove. It’s 3pm, Dock is expecting me at 5pm, and I have 4 miles to go.

Of course, water sources are in low points. And the trail doesn’t follow THIS particular drainage. You need to go to THAT one over there…up over that little ridge. I force myself to pace myself on the hills in sun. Lots of water intake, and some more music. The time starts to fly by as I half-run down some sections, the sand acting as a cushion. But then the trail climbs and winds around more bluffs that just seem to be there to tease me. Why oh why when so close?

To those of you who have never listened to ‘Welcome To the Pleasure Dome’ by Frankie Goes to Holllywood, give it a try. A blast back to my high school days, the beat, lyrics and energy propelled me down the trail. First it was air drumming with my poles, then air guitar…and don’t forget the outlandish yelling of lyrics (not to be confused with actually trying to sing along like in the shower or in my motorcycle helmet), I was just yelling. And half out of breath as I started half skipping half running down the trail. This is the same guy that was watching every footstep of the way for the last 18 miles due to sore feet, and now I’m ignoring all of it. No, not igoring. It’s not there. But the end is, I can see it. And then the sobbing and shit like that. I feel like I did when I completed a marathon. I did it, despite all of my efforts to not train the best or prepare.

I get to the road intersection at 4:30pm. I just can’t believe I pulled off that speed at the end of a 20 mile day. Just imagine what I can do when I lighten my load and get back into my “comfy” shoes. I can’t wait.

But wait, there’s more! Once I walk the road walk to the KOA campground, I find many of my trail friends there. Pyche is there with his sexy camp shoes he found in a hiker box. Gunner is there with a long-time friend who has provided a lot of trail magic in the form of beer in a cooler and a pizza order. And then Dock shows up with my packages…and beer in a bear cannister. Dock and I make the run to Agua Dulce to get the pizza and have a wonderful conversation about the trail, life, and human nature. For knowing him for such a short time, he certainly seems like a special and unique person.

I now get a double-zero for my efforts. I need to go to the post office on Monday to get rid of a lot of heavy stuff I don’t need for the next 250 miles. Oh, and rest too. My feet need it.

Savior out.