8/8/20; mile: 1,624; elevation: 5,728 ft.
How can I keep this up? Every time I leave friends, I hit a slump. My feet drag, my head hangs low, my sunglasses get wet and blurry. Is it because I’m leaving, or is it because of the love and support I’m getting; feelings of guilt? In the moment, it’s hard to know the difference. I’ve always been the supportive-type, always giving…never one to ask for much. And here I am constantly “taking” as I walk on this selfish endeavor to prove something to someone somewhere. Why? Thank you Howard. You were a gracious host, and very kind. I’m honored to consider you a friend. I hope your year gets better. Fuck Covid. When this is over, let’s doing something cool, and then make plans to do something else cool. You get the picture.
Back on the trail, and I’m alone again. I’m the first NOBO on the trail today, and as it turns out will be alone all day. Which is just as well. When I’m in a funk, I don’t want to be around people. It’s not that I don’t appreciate other’s concerns and efforts, I just need my time. No one else can fix it. I need to process it for a while, wallow in the misery a bit, process it, bitch about it (sometimes loudly), then drop it and break free. That’s how I’ve been, that’s who I am. This whole trip has turned into me breaking free of the bindings, all the baggage that has held me down (real and perceived) or pressures to conform to someone else’s idea of normal. Not now. Not anymore.
Back to Norther California…..Today’s saunter is all about steepness. Whether it’s the trail itself, or if the trail traverses a steep slope. With many of the miles here traversing burn zones, steepness is noticeable everywhere through the charred toothpicks protruding from the earth. And no shade. My first attempt at getting water is 7 miles down trail, but at this time of year, it’s hard to collect in a water bottle. If you have a scoop or ziplock bag, it’s easier. I get what I can and then find easier water in another 3 miles. It’s times like this where the Guthooks app is a wonder, and I do my best to pay it forward and post information for the hikers following me.
I start running on downhill sections again. There’s something that just seems wrong about it while backpacking, so I guess that’s why I do it. I need to make the miles anyway, my legs and feet are feeling better and my pack isn’t that heavy, so why the fuck not? Just don’t think I’m going to be running uphill. Nope. From way up high I look down on Man Eaten Lake and I think I see people down there. Where they came from or how they got there, I haven’t a clue. And I sure as hell ain’t going down that far, it’s steep as fuck. And with the sun now beating down on the western flanks, it’s hotter than ever. Man Eaten Lake? How did that name come about?
After running a bit more downhill to Marble Valley Camp (and cabin), I find horses and dogs and people at the Forest Service cabin. Turns out they’re backcountry folk out working the trails in the wilderness around here (hence the horses and no chainsaws). I work my way west uphill and find a wonderful campsite, with really nice water flowing from a pipe in the nearby creek. Despite my desire to wallow in my sadness, I spend some time chatting with a couple camping here. They’re SOBO and wonderful to talk with. New personalities, fresh perspectives…a breath of fresh air for me. His name is Floss, and I think her name is Hand Socks if I remember correctly. The story revolved around being very cold and tired and she needed help finding her mittens, but the only words that registered to her at the time were “hands” and “socks”. Or at least that was the gist. I love hearing trail name stories. While getting water, I meet two of the FS crew (and their quite protective dogs). With Covid, it’s not as enjoyable and relaxing as it could be since they are on the job and work for the Federal Government. But I thank them for their work, especially since they cleared trail north of here, making my life easier for tomorrow.
This camp is quite a nice spot. Under the trees to prevent dew and condensations, water nearby, in a valley to keep the wind at bay. But also quite used. So I worry about critters and decide to use the tent. While Floss and Hand Socks have a campfire, I’m back to my tent to try to get an end to this day. It’s not hard.
Savior out.