This big fella wouldn't move! Finally, after accidentally hitting him with a rock, he coiled up and slithered away.
Road walking on a Poodle Dog Bush detour.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Pictures #1
Monday, May 20, 2013
Taking Care
After spending a relaxing night in a Big Bear hotel where I had a jacuzzi bathtub in my room, I was feeling refreshed and ready to move on. I nearo-ed (nearly zero miles) out of Big Bear City and set up camp just in time to be sheltered from the rain/hail/thunder/lightening storm. I woke up the next morning feeling like I was on top of the world and I hiked 16 miles by 1:00 in the afternoon, where I met up with some friends I had been hiking with before. Since they had camped a bit farther than me, they wanted to keep walking and I wanted to stay with them, so I ended up going almost 24 miles, the farthest I've ever hiked in one day. By the time we got to camp, I was so toasted, but proud of myself for such an accomplishment. We got an early start the next morning so that we could get to some hot springs that were 4 miles down the trail and soak our feet for a while. When we arrived we were greeted by some hikers that had been there for three days and were leaving only because they were running out of food. Not wanting to get sucked in, we bounced right out of there after only an hour and a half. I'm not sure if the heat was getting to me or what was happening, but as we descended down the mountain I began to think of my life in the past few years and everything that has brought me to where I am now and I was overcome with emotion and just started to cry. By the time I got to the bottom of the hill, the tears had mostly subsided, but I was feeling a little drained. It was getting extremely hot, and so after a few miles we were searching for a nice shady spot to take a siesta when we suddenly stumbled upon a miracle! Some Trail Angels had set up a hot dog and rootbeer float feast for hikers wanting to wait out the midday heat. We stopped to rest, intending to take off sooner than later, and we ended up spending three hours there because it was unbearably hot and there was no way we could hike in the beating sun. Others hikers also trickled in while we were there, and around 4:00 pm we all decided it was time to hike out, even though it was still quite hot. We immediately started climbing and I was not feeling so great. All of a sudden I couldn't breathe very well, my heart rate skyrocketed, and I began to panic. I found some shade and one of the friends I was hiking with asked if I was okay. All I could do was sort of shake my head,"No," because I knew I would start to cry if I tried to speak, and I was trying really hard not to. A few other hikers stopped, all wondering if I was okay, and I finally had to respond, and the tears just flowed as I explained to them what was happening. Luckily, two of the guys who were there with me were Wilderness First Responders, so they helped me sit down and relax and put a wet bandana around my neck. As we sat there, they calmed me down and one of them pulled out his ukelele and started strumming to try and distract me. After about 20 minutes, I felt like I still wouldn't be able to go on anymore and I made the decision to walk back to the Trail Angels and see if I could get a ride into town. On the way back, I cried some more because I was so bummed to have to be leaving the trail. One of the Angels agreed to drive me into Wrightwood (my next resupply stop), where I would take a couple days off and wait for the rest of the group to hike in. Once there, I immediately called home and cried some more on the phone while talking with my parents, but after a while I realized I had made the best decision I could have in a bad situation. I needed to take care of myself first and foremost. Also, I had just experienced the most amazing Trail Magic ever. These people that I had barely known for a few hours had done this beautiful thing and had helped me and become my family. It had been a good bad experience and it made me realize that everyone on the trail has this extremely intimate connection because we are all going through the same shitty stuff, and so we all become really close really quickly. And I now know that the trail, and my fellow hikers, will always provide and always have my back.
I spent three days in Wrightwood (basically laying in bed the entire time) to rest and rejuvenate, and by the time my hiking group rolled into town, I was good to go. My body definitely still felt like it was recuperating, so I decided to take things easy on my way to Agua Dulce and only go 15-18 miles per day, so as not to push myself past the point of no return.
As I near my 1-month marker, I look forward to a day off in Agua Dulce at a Trail Angel's house and then some cooler night hiking on my way into the desert. And then on to the Sierras!
I spent three days in Wrightwood (basically laying in bed the entire time) to rest and rejuvenate, and by the time my hiking group rolled into town, I was good to go. My body definitely still felt like it was recuperating, so I decided to take things easy on my way to Agua Dulce and only go 15-18 miles per day, so as not to push myself past the point of no return.
As I near my 1-month marker, I look forward to a day off in Agua Dulce at a Trail Angel's house and then some cooler night hiking on my way into the desert. And then on to the Sierras!
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Riding It Out
I've found that spending time in towns is a bit of a catch-22. While I think it's necessary to have adequate time to rest my body, especially in the beginning, it is quite difficult to get back to the trail after spending a relaxing evening in a comfortable bed and having a hot shower whenever I'd like. Once I'm back on the trail, it's all okay, but making that initial jump to get there is the hard part. I'm hoping it will get easier or it won't be as crucial to take as many days in town as my body gets more and more accustomed to the trail.
The time has come for the real journey to begin. My parents have gone back to their lives and I am left on the trail to figure things out on my own.
The time has come for the real journey to begin. My parents have gone back to their lives and I am left on the trail to figure things out on my own.
Pretty much the whole first day of being on my own I felt like I was going to cry. Even though I wasn't actually alone since I was hiking with a few other people. I think it was mostly because it had been so fun and easy hiking with my parents and now the unknown seemed much more daunting. But after the first day and night, I realized that I was going to be okay. I know what I'm doing and I just have to trust that. Even now as I sit in my tent as it rains and hails and ominous clouds swirl overhead, I know I'll be okay. All I need to do is ride it out and let the bad weather pass. And that goes for almost everything.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Moving Forward
Mom and I took a few days off to attend the annual kick-off party back at Lake Morena called ADZPCTKO, where there was good free food and lots of down time to rest. I finally got my trail name there too: Mermaid, given to me after telling a friend the story of how I was rinsing my clothes in the lake and accidently fell in. It feels a bit silly introducing myself as Mermaid on the trail, but I think I'll get used to it eventually.
As we moved into week two, I said goodbye to Mom and hello to Dad. I was a little nervous about hiking with Dad since I had already been on the trail for a week and my hiker legs were starting to kick in. I didn't want to be held back by any blister problems that he would have either, but I would do what I had to do to accomodate him.
Our first day out was hot! I didn't mind having to stop in the shade and wait every once in a while for Dad to catch up. I finally had to pull out my Chrome Dome reflective umbrella to shield myself from the sun while walking, which made a huge difference. We endured the heat and ended up going 18 miles! A big first day for Dad and for me after taking 2 1/2 days off. We camped at a Trail Angel's house where they had cold beverages and chili waiting for us when we arrived. It was nice that my Dad was already getting to experience a little bit of Trail Magic.
By day two, I was no longer having to wait for Dad to catch up and he was keeping pace with me just perfectly. We saw a myriad of desert wildlife: rattlesnakes, gopher snakes, garter snakes, and horned toad lizards crossed our path all day!
With time passing, the days sort of meld into one another and I can't remember what happened when. As we entered the San Jacinto Wilderness, water sources became farther and farther off the trail, and we would have to hike close to a mile or two detour with an elevation change of 500+ feet to refill our water supply. But we would try not to complain since water is extremely critical in the heat and we have no desire to get dehydrated. Since the San Jacintos are fairly large mountains, we had a ton of ups and downs. It literally felt as if we were constantly trudging up a 30-50% incline in the beating hot sun for two days straight. And just when we thought we couldn't climb anymore, the trail would take a brief, but steep, nosedive and then lead us straight back up to where we were before. It was hard and even frustrating at times when we were tired, our legs were screaming, and our feet were aching. However, we didn't really have any other choice than to just do it, so we did.
With each day I can feel my body hardening. Not only are my legs getting stronger, but also my core, back, and arms are as well from carrying my pack and using my trekking poles. Speaking of trekking poles, I have the weirdest diagonal tanline on my hands from the pole straps, and the handles of my poles are so caked with dirt and sweat that they are sticky, and I'm left with a gross, balck residue on my hands every time I put them down.
My appetite is still quite depressed. I've gotten to the point where I get hungry, but after a couple bites I have to force-feed myself, and sometimes it isn't until I can't barely walk that I realize I need to eat something. I'm sure the "hiker hunger" will kick in soon enough though and my stomach will be a bottomless pit.
There is definitely a certain point almost every day that I think to myself, "Screw this. I'm done," but then I take a rest and have something to eat and I change my mind. Also right when I wake up in the morning I think, "Do I have to get up and leave my warm sleeping bag?" The answer is always "Yes."
I move forward with my adventure and with each day I get more accustomed to the trail and enjoy more and more what it has to offer. A past thru-hiker told me, "Day to day, town to town, state to state, border to border. That's how it's done." And it is so true. If I think about the fact that I am hiking for 4 1/2 more months, all the way to Canada, I get extremely overwhelmed. But if I just think about getting to the next town, it doesn't seem so daunting. So with that, I'll meet you all in the next town.
As we moved into week two, I said goodbye to Mom and hello to Dad. I was a little nervous about hiking with Dad since I had already been on the trail for a week and my hiker legs were starting to kick in. I didn't want to be held back by any blister problems that he would have either, but I would do what I had to do to accomodate him.
Our first day out was hot! I didn't mind having to stop in the shade and wait every once in a while for Dad to catch up. I finally had to pull out my Chrome Dome reflective umbrella to shield myself from the sun while walking, which made a huge difference. We endured the heat and ended up going 18 miles! A big first day for Dad and for me after taking 2 1/2 days off. We camped at a Trail Angel's house where they had cold beverages and chili waiting for us when we arrived. It was nice that my Dad was already getting to experience a little bit of Trail Magic.
By day two, I was no longer having to wait for Dad to catch up and he was keeping pace with me just perfectly. We saw a myriad of desert wildlife: rattlesnakes, gopher snakes, garter snakes, and horned toad lizards crossed our path all day!
With time passing, the days sort of meld into one another and I can't remember what happened when. As we entered the San Jacinto Wilderness, water sources became farther and farther off the trail, and we would have to hike close to a mile or two detour with an elevation change of 500+ feet to refill our water supply. But we would try not to complain since water is extremely critical in the heat and we have no desire to get dehydrated. Since the San Jacintos are fairly large mountains, we had a ton of ups and downs. It literally felt as if we were constantly trudging up a 30-50% incline in the beating hot sun for two days straight. And just when we thought we couldn't climb anymore, the trail would take a brief, but steep, nosedive and then lead us straight back up to where we were before. It was hard and even frustrating at times when we were tired, our legs were screaming, and our feet were aching. However, we didn't really have any other choice than to just do it, so we did.
With each day I can feel my body hardening. Not only are my legs getting stronger, but also my core, back, and arms are as well from carrying my pack and using my trekking poles. Speaking of trekking poles, I have the weirdest diagonal tanline on my hands from the pole straps, and the handles of my poles are so caked with dirt and sweat that they are sticky, and I'm left with a gross, balck residue on my hands every time I put them down.
My appetite is still quite depressed. I've gotten to the point where I get hungry, but after a couple bites I have to force-feed myself, and sometimes it isn't until I can't barely walk that I realize I need to eat something. I'm sure the "hiker hunger" will kick in soon enough though and my stomach will be a bottomless pit.
There is definitely a certain point almost every day that I think to myself, "Screw this. I'm done," but then I take a rest and have something to eat and I change my mind. Also right when I wake up in the morning I think, "Do I have to get up and leave my warm sleeping bag?" The answer is always "Yes."
I move forward with my adventure and with each day I get more accustomed to the trail and enjoy more and more what it has to offer. A past thru-hiker told me, "Day to day, town to town, state to state, border to border. That's how it's done." And it is so true. If I think about the fact that I am hiking for 4 1/2 more months, all the way to Canada, I get extremely overwhelmed. But if I just think about getting to the next town, it doesn't seem so daunting. So with that, I'll meet you all in the next town.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
And So It Begins!
Day 1:
As we drove up to the trailhead, my heart was racing and my hands were shaking. The past three months had all been in preparation for this and here I was, finally, and suddenly the stage fright was kicking in. We stood there at the marker, took a couple pictures, and we suddenly realized we had no idea where the trail went amongst all the dirt roads winding around the border. After studying the map, we got our bearings and headed out in the right direction. Because there wouldn't be a reliable water source for about 15 miles, we were carrying 10 liters of water between the two of us. At 2 lbs. per liter, that was a lot! But we had no desire to run out of water in the hot sun, so we happily carried it all.
Shortly after beginning we passed three people. It was very hot and we were climbing a lot, but we were feeling great! We were getting into a great rhythm when BAM! A rattlesnake right in the smack middle of the trail. That sure got our hearts racing! The snake slithered off the trail and we resumed walking, this time a little more aware of what was around us. The next thing we knew, there was another rattlesnake on the trail! Two in one day! It was a sign.
Around six o'clock we came to a place called Hauser Creek (about 16 miles in) and discovered that there was in fact water there even though we had heard it was dry. There were some other hikers at the creek who said they were going to eat dinner and then hike 4 more miles to Lake Morena. We decided that we were going to try to do that as well, figuring it would take us about 2 hours to get there given the pace we had been going.
We set out at seven o'clock up the big hill and soon had to pull our headlamps out as the sun went down. We walked for what seemed like forever in the dark, even stopping to check the map for fear of being lost. Finally we stumbled into camp at 10:30 at night, barely able to stand on our feet, and headed straight for the showers. After washing up, we made camp, ate dinner at midnight, and finally went to sleep, hoping our feet would feel better in the morning.
Day 2:
After waking up still unable to walk very well, we decided that we would definitely not make the same choice again that we had the night before. Lesson learned. By the time we taped up our feet, packed up camp, and found the trail again, it was already 11:00, an extremely late start. A couple hours of hiking later, we were hot, tired, chafing, and in pain, when out of the blue an almost-naked old man came wandering down the trail ahead of us. We had a much needed laugh and continued a few more miles before stopping for camp, today completing only half the miles we did the day before.
Day 3:
We prepared for the day thinking our blistered feet wouldn't carry us more than one mile. We ended up going 12! It was by far the hardest day yet. I came up with a few ways to cope with the pain of each step:
1. GET ANGRY: listen to an emotionally charged song and channel that anger
2. Say a different curse word every time I take a step
3. VERY deep breaths
Towards the end of the da, my spirits were down and I was seriously doubting my ability to continue on the trail. There were no more spots left on our feet that could still blister, but we endured through the pain and made camp at a campground about 1 mile away from Mt. Laguna, our first resupply stop.
We, oddly, have had no appetite, and whenever we do eat, we get terrible indigestion and acid reflux. We are barely eating half our food. Hopefully this will change soon because it's a drag carrying way more heavy food than we need to be.
Day 4:
We couldn't even get our shoes on since our feet were so swollen and raw, so we each put on 3 pairs of socks and hobbled up the road to the Mt. Laguna Store. After picking up our box, we sat out on the porch with 20 other hikers, discussing the amount of agony we were all in and how to combat the pain and thoughts of quitting. My mom and I decided that we needed to take care of our feet before we caused any other injuries and that we would take a day off and spend the night at the lodge in Mt. Laguna.
Day 5:
After three warm Epsom salt baths, a comfy bed, and a new pair of shoes, I felt great! In fact, we felt so great that we hiked 17 miles! Things are looking up and I'm feeling much more confident about the rest of the trail. Now I know that when things are looking down, I just need to take a breather and take care of myself!
As we drove up to the trailhead, my heart was racing and my hands were shaking. The past three months had all been in preparation for this and here I was, finally, and suddenly the stage fright was kicking in. We stood there at the marker, took a couple pictures, and we suddenly realized we had no idea where the trail went amongst all the dirt roads winding around the border. After studying the map, we got our bearings and headed out in the right direction. Because there wouldn't be a reliable water source for about 15 miles, we were carrying 10 liters of water between the two of us. At 2 lbs. per liter, that was a lot! But we had no desire to run out of water in the hot sun, so we happily carried it all.
Shortly after beginning we passed three people. It was very hot and we were climbing a lot, but we were feeling great! We were getting into a great rhythm when BAM! A rattlesnake right in the smack middle of the trail. That sure got our hearts racing! The snake slithered off the trail and we resumed walking, this time a little more aware of what was around us. The next thing we knew, there was another rattlesnake on the trail! Two in one day! It was a sign.
Around six o'clock we came to a place called Hauser Creek (about 16 miles in) and discovered that there was in fact water there even though we had heard it was dry. There were some other hikers at the creek who said they were going to eat dinner and then hike 4 more miles to Lake Morena. We decided that we were going to try to do that as well, figuring it would take us about 2 hours to get there given the pace we had been going.
We set out at seven o'clock up the big hill and soon had to pull our headlamps out as the sun went down. We walked for what seemed like forever in the dark, even stopping to check the map for fear of being lost. Finally we stumbled into camp at 10:30 at night, barely able to stand on our feet, and headed straight for the showers. After washing up, we made camp, ate dinner at midnight, and finally went to sleep, hoping our feet would feel better in the morning.
Day 2:
After waking up still unable to walk very well, we decided that we would definitely not make the same choice again that we had the night before. Lesson learned. By the time we taped up our feet, packed up camp, and found the trail again, it was already 11:00, an extremely late start. A couple hours of hiking later, we were hot, tired, chafing, and in pain, when out of the blue an almost-naked old man came wandering down the trail ahead of us. We had a much needed laugh and continued a few more miles before stopping for camp, today completing only half the miles we did the day before.
Day 3:
We prepared for the day thinking our blistered feet wouldn't carry us more than one mile. We ended up going 12! It was by far the hardest day yet. I came up with a few ways to cope with the pain of each step:
1. GET ANGRY: listen to an emotionally charged song and channel that anger
2. Say a different curse word every time I take a step
3. VERY deep breaths
Towards the end of the da, my spirits were down and I was seriously doubting my ability to continue on the trail. There were no more spots left on our feet that could still blister, but we endured through the pain and made camp at a campground about 1 mile away from Mt. Laguna, our first resupply stop.
We, oddly, have had no appetite, and whenever we do eat, we get terrible indigestion and acid reflux. We are barely eating half our food. Hopefully this will change soon because it's a drag carrying way more heavy food than we need to be.
Day 4:
We couldn't even get our shoes on since our feet were so swollen and raw, so we each put on 3 pairs of socks and hobbled up the road to the Mt. Laguna Store. After picking up our box, we sat out on the porch with 20 other hikers, discussing the amount of agony we were all in and how to combat the pain and thoughts of quitting. My mom and I decided that we needed to take care of our feet before we caused any other injuries and that we would take a day off and spend the night at the lodge in Mt. Laguna.
Day 5:
After three warm Epsom salt baths, a comfy bed, and a new pair of shoes, I felt great! In fact, we felt so great that we hiked 17 miles! Things are looking up and I'm feeling much more confident about the rest of the trail. Now I know that when things are looking down, I just need to take a breather and take care of myself!
Friday, April 19, 2013
The Last Supper
So, here I am...in Southern California counting down the hours until the adventure begins. My grandmother very graciously agreed to be my chauffeur to get me to the trailhead and to give me one last night in a comfortable, cozy bed and a nice meal before the monotony of endless bars and jerky. For my last supper, my only request was not to have quinoa, as that will be my dinner every night for the next five months. Since I would be arriving later in the evening, my grandma decided to get take out from her favorite restaurant so that it would be ready to go when I got there. I pulled into the driveway, said my hellos, and went inside to discover dinner ready and waiting as promised. Quinoa. Yum. When I explained to my grandmother why I would be sticking with the salmon and vegetables instead of the quinoa, she replied, "Well I had no idea what it was! It sounded like something you would eat." Little did she know....
A toast, to 150 days of quinoa!
A toast, to 150 days of quinoa!
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Gear
This pretty much sums it up.
VIDEO: Get the Gear
"I love [my boots] with a passion that borders on the indecent...When you're way to hell and gone out there, you're nearly as dependent upon your equipment as is a mountain climber. You will love a sleeping bag that keeps you snug in a camp swept by a freak cold front; you will hate a raincoat that soaks through; you will cherish a tent that holds up through a howling storm; you will despise a cookstove that won't light in the rain, or that coughs and sputters in the cold. We're not just talking things here, we're talking serious relationships." - Hank Burchard, "Winter in the
Woods," Washington Post. Jan 3, 1986.
In the long-distance hiking world, there is such a huge emphasis on "ultralight" backpacking. And while there is definitely truth to the idea, it seems like people can get so carried away with it. Sub-10 lb. base weight...really? Is that necessary? Even though distance hiked per day directly corresponds with packweight, it's not a race to get to the end or even to the next resupply. There is literally so much lightweight gear out there someone could spend thousands and thousands of dollars just to shave a few ounces off their base weight. I admit that I did get a little bit sucked into it all, but I was able to keep myself in check and not go too crazy. In fact, I don't even know how much my pack weighs exactly, and I don't want to. I'm going to carry what I'm going to carry and that's that. Why should it matter exactly how much it weighs? I would rather be overly prepared than lack something that could be critical. As long as my pack is comfortable and doesn't cause any injuries, that is good enough for me.
"I love [my boots] with a passion that borders on the indecent...When you're way to hell and gone out there, you're nearly as dependent upon your equipment as is a mountain climber. You will love a sleeping bag that keeps you snug in a camp swept by a freak cold front; you will hate a raincoat that soaks through; you will cherish a tent that holds up through a howling storm; you will despise a cookstove that won't light in the rain, or that coughs and sputters in the cold. We're not just talking things here, we're talking serious relationships." - Hank Burchard, "Winter in the
Woods," Washington Post. Jan 3, 1986.
In the long-distance hiking world, there is such a huge emphasis on "ultralight" backpacking. And while there is definitely truth to the idea, it seems like people can get so carried away with it. Sub-10 lb. base weight...really? Is that necessary? Even though distance hiked per day directly corresponds with packweight, it's not a race to get to the end or even to the next resupply. There is literally so much lightweight gear out there someone could spend thousands and thousands of dollars just to shave a few ounces off their base weight. I admit that I did get a little bit sucked into it all, but I was able to keep myself in check and not go too crazy. In fact, I don't even know how much my pack weighs exactly, and I don't want to. I'm going to carry what I'm going to carry and that's that. Why should it matter exactly how much it weighs? I would rather be overly prepared than lack something that could be critical. As long as my pack is comfortable and doesn't cause any injuries, that is good enough for me.
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