Miniature Disasters

In the process of getting ready for the PCT, I thought I'd better do some practice hikes to prepare myself and try out some of my new gear and all that. And thank goodness. Let's just say I needed a little practice before I was going to go on a five-month-long journey in the backcountry by myself.

When we hiked in Point Reyes National Park, I thought it would be a good idea to bring my stove and try to cook something that I would be eating on the trail for my lunch. So after hiking for a few hours, we found a nice spot to sit down and have a bite, and I began to prepare my stove. The very first thing I did was knock my pot over and spilled 4/5 of my uncooked quinoa into the grass. There went the bulk of my lunch. I tried to stay positive though and moved on to rehydrate the sauce and dehydrated beans I had brought. It was going well until I took the lid off my bowl to find that my collapsible spoon was nowhere to be found. Things were beginning to look dismal. All I was left with was some beans and sauce to be eaten with a small piece of orange peel in place of a spoon. At least it was something.
Up to that point I had been pretty content, but the reality of things were settling in. I was NOT prepared. Good thing my mom had packed some malt balls, so I filled up on those and we were shortly on our way.
...12.5 miles later, we were back at the car preparing to go home. As I removed my old tennis shoes that I had worn all day, I discovered the third, and final, blow of the day. A blood blister larger than the size of a quarter on the inside edge of my right heel. We drove home and I tried to ignore the pain and not to think of what a failure the day had been.
Once we got back, I performed some small-scale surgery on my foot and we headed out to dinner. One happy, full belly later, I realized that the day hadn't been a failure. In fact, it had been quite the opposite. While I may have had some major oopsies, they were done and over with. In the backcountry I would know to be extra careful about not knocking over my cookpot full of dinner because my mother wouldn't be there with malt balls to lift my spirits. I would also know not to keep pushing on, like I have always known to do in dance, when I feel a blister coming on. There's no reason to put yourself through pain when there is quite an easy solution.

Our next practice hike would be an overnight backpacking trip to Henry Coe State Park. The goal was to go 30 miles in two days, hiking 15 miles each day. This time, I was prepared for (and fully expected) a few minor catastrophes. When we arrived to the trailhead, we were bombarded by a million warning signs telling us to be careful and check ourselves frequently for ticks. Great. It was already going to be quite the experiment trying out new shoes and my new tent. Now we were going to have to be worried about ticks. But alas, this would not stop us!
At the end of the first day we reached our destination with few complications and quickly set up camp and cooked dinner. That night I ate the most delicious Tasty Bites I had ever eaten in my life after hiking 15 miles. I was a little bit anxious about having to hike another 15 miles the next day because I didn't know if my swollen feet could manage it, but I tried to push those thoughts aside, elevate my feet for the night, and see what the morning would bring. We snuggled into our sleeping bags and after what seemed like a couple hours of tossing and turning finally fell asleep. I woke up in the middle of the night to the howling wind and my tent collapsed on top me. Half-asleep, I put on my headlamp, braved the wind, and attempted the shove my tent stakes back into the ground in my dazed state. Luckily, the wind eventually died down and my tent was safe for the rest of the night.
We awoke in the morning, wrapped our feet up nicely with tape, and got ready to leave. As I was changing into my hiking attire, my mom gave me a strange look and came closer to examine what looked like a freckle on my rib that hadn't been there before. It was no freckle. I had gotten bit by a tick. We inspected it only to find it dead. With its head still buried inside my flesh. Ew. My dad worked on trying to pull it out with tweezers as my mom and I both looked away. I cringed and told him, "I don't care if I bleed, just get the thing out!" He did his best, I slapped on some antibiotic cream and a band aid, and we packed up and headed out.
About halfway through the day, I could barely walk my feet were so blistered and raw. We stopped for a snack and I changed into my sandals to let my feet air out and cool down. After a little more hiking, we came to a nice creek where we took a break to pump water and soak our feet. I swear that creek had mystical properties. Immediately I was back on my feet feeling refreshed and ready to go. I could have hiked a million miles more! (Maybe exaggerating a little...) But it was amazing how much better I felt. We even decided to take a detour towards the end of the hike to tack on a few more miles.

Although I worked out a few kinks up to this point, I know there will be many more to come.  Nothing is going to go perfectly and the trail will most likely throw things at me that I've never had to even think about before. The difference now is that I accept that they will happen and by keeping cool and calm, I can figure out how to deal with just about anything. Here's to the miniature disasters!