Snow Way Pictures

Snow Way of Knowing

I sit in a hotel room in Warner Springs Ranch Resort. Three of my hiking fellows are packing food and planning for this next leg which will take us to Idylwild.It is hard to believe this all began only a week ago.

One week and one night ago I was checking gear and planning to head out from Scout and Frodo's home in San Diego. My pack's basic weight was 16.3 pounds according to their hanging scale. With food, consumables, and 4 liters of water it weighed 43 lbs. There were over a dozen of us aspiring thru-hikers in varying stages of preparedness, who gathered around the tables for a delicious Mexican supper. I spent the rest of the evening and night in a limbo state of torture. I could not lay still, much less sleep. In the throes of my torture, Rif-Raf, who was sharing the living room space with me, piped up, "You are likea 5 year old at Christmas! We might have to call you Fidgit." I liked it, I kept it, I am getting good at responding to it.

About 15 of us were at the Mexican Border the next morning, after a delicious breakfast of french toast, fruit, and eggs. I rode with Scout, another fellow called JJ, and RifRaf. As we drove through the desert hill fogs and the sun finally nibbled through, Scout put in The Tabasco Donkeys album and we listened to 'I Don't Mind'. It was so perfect, my heart was swelling, as tears brimmed in Scout and I's eyes. And so it began.

I tripped within the first 1/8 mile out of excitement and again about 6 miles in. Nothing big. The landscape was typical desert, although wind kept the temperatures very pleasant. Temperatures got as high as 90 and at night, low 30s. Over the first 3-4 days, desert landscape alternated with low, green, lush valleys. Wonderful alternations, always just warm enough to make stream crossings a very pleasing ordeal.

By the fifth day, we came upon a tented outpost of snacks and trail gear, run by an old cowboy fellow named Wayne. We sat and chatted a few of the morning horus away before rolling into straight desert mountainsides.

I will now interrupt the trip narrative to introduce you to the clan in which I have been blessed to find myself.

RifRaf is an ER nurse from Columbus,Ohio. he hiked the AT some years ago and made it 1700 miles up the PCT last year. Being of the "I will keep my word to the letter" variety, he is starting over this year. His trail and medical knowledge has been invaluable and as my most frequent hiking partner, his political and social awareness, as well as similar humor, has made many an eternal ascent pass much more quickly.

Terrapin and Granite met on the AT three years ago and have been married some six months now. This is their honeymoon. Granite is a chemistry degree bearing carpenter with a wilderness EMT license, while Terrapin is also an ER nurse. Trail wisdom and experience effuse from them, with the upbeat level-headedness to match.

Frog, or as I like to think of him, 'Frog the Filming Frenchman', is from San Francisco. he hikes with a handheld video camera, recording his trek for the sake of a school whose PE funding had been dramatically cut back. His deadpan humor and wide array of travels and experience trully round out our motley little crew. It is so perfect and wonderful for me.

Now we are at Scissor's crossing, our planned evening stop and it's only 2:30 in the afternoon. Rumors of free pie and (for me) more Ibuprofen and foot wraps, lured us into hitching into Jolian, a town where we found tourist quaint meets rural poverty. We stocked up, pied up, and headed out post haste, hitching in pairs of male/female for safety.

The next morning we climbed into the San Felipe mountains. Exposed hillsides of red lauburn sand, held together by the roots of cacti ranging from Teddy Bear Cholla, to Barrel Cactus. Tiny, colorful flowers dot the grounds surface, complimenting one another's colors and efforts at sustaining life. Erstwile the Yucca and Agave spires stand sentinel over the whole of their ecological commmunity.

Our clan ended up camping at a water cache called 3rd Gate. Gusts of wind plagued our afternoon and coated everything from our tent floors to our teeth in fine desert sand. Relying on the old 'wind dies down at night' rule, we all tucked away for bed. The wind did not, in fact, die down. Rather it tore up every fly stake and caused me to worry for the safety of my tent seams. By six the next morning I was ready to be out of that devil wind. I bandaged the crop of blisters on my feet, packed up and bounced out as quickly as possible. Dark clouds roiled about above and between the ridges and peaks. Certain turns in the trail exposed me to ripping, howling winds, others tucked me away. Some clouds spat rain, others hail, still others snow. Scrub oak and other growth alonf the trail soaked my pants, it was the kind of environment where stopping begot hypothermia. I pressed on 10 miles through this, although every time despair came too near, the clouds would break and the sun cast a rich, thick snow-bow from the cloud cover to the green valley below.

I made it out of the mountains and pitched my fly and climbed into my sleeping bag and ate a bit so as to ward off the hypothermia which I felt threatening. An hour later the rest of the posse began passing and by the time Rif-Raf (at the tail) rolled by, I was packed and ready to move. While we had planned on camping some four miles out of town, the threatening cloud cover pressed us on, past Eagle Rock, through idyllic valley pastures adorned by yellow poppies and on into Warner Springs, population 203.

We five are splitting a hotel room and enjoying the opportunity to clean clothes, dry gear, and converse with other arriving hikers. This morning we awoke to a wet snow coating the ground. Reporst are that someone behind us was medevac'd off the mountain. Others arriving report having been stopped at Scissors Crossing by Border Patrol and were driven here. I am sure even more stories will be passed around at dinner tonight!

Unusually high water levels have meant plenty of stops for loading up on drinking water, although runors are already flying as to what that means for snow passes from here on out.

Hiking friends

This is Bethany's dad giving her first report from the trail. She called this afternoon to report that she has hiked over 110 miles in the past 7 days and is now at Warner Springs. It so happens that seven other through hikers started at about the same time. Two of them are ER nurses (RNs) and one is an EMT. So she has plenty of help with her blisters, which she also has plenty of. She realized she needs a better pair of hiking shoes...

The Mojave desert is getting rain and snow and hail. She has had to pitch a tent midhike to get dry and warm. However the moisture also means the long dormant plants are blossoming and there haven't been long hauls without water.

She is now taking the weekend off from hiking to attend the annual Pacific Crest Trail Kick Off day at Lake Morena. Hopefully she can score some new shoes there.

Kendall

Yesterday's Tomorrow

I woke up early this morning with my parents. We breakfasted and they spoke blessings over me. I struck out with such a sense of giddy confidence. It carried me through the ride and I strode into the airport. While I was put out by the slow line to check my bag, I maintained the confidence until I got to the counter and the woman tapped at her computer, looked at my ticket, looked at me.
"You know your plane leaves in four minutes?"
In fact, I did not know this. I had looked at my itinerary a few weeks ago and had been telling everyone I was leaving at 7:21. I had said it so much that I believed myself. In fact, I had been slated to arrive in Denver at that time. Talk about deflating an ego!
She rescheduled me for a 10 am flight to Denver and I was on standby for two very full flights, but assured I would at least be on a 10 pm flight. I took a moment to reel my now flaccid ego back in and regroup my thoughts. I realized this was a lesson I was being taught. The Universe was taking this opportunity, while I was still safely ensconced in societal accouterments, to remind me of a few vital lessons. Always double check yourself. And I think more importantly: Humility.
I reflected on the lesson, glad I was learning it in an airport rather than taking a wrong turn and not realizing it until many miles down the wrong trail. I mulled it over and digested as I waited for my flight out of KC. I mulled some more as I sat in the Denver airport.
I decided I had learned the lesson and began begging God to show me some clemency. I really wanted to be on that 2 pm flight. I would go CRAZY sitting in that airport for another 6-8 hours. I asked in every way I know how. I sat near the desk and listened with dismay as I heard the attendants speak about how FULL the flight was. Jam packed, every seat occupied. No seat reassignments. I sulked for a moment, but caught myself and continued to pray.
At the very last minute, three girls had not arrived to take their seats. I was in! I was THRILLED to be on that plane.
A few hours later I was picking up my bag off the carousel and Scout met me outside the terminal. We quickly found that we had both been Philmont Staff and spent the ride Phil-chatting.
Since then I have spent the evening in their beautiful, and open home. Sharing the space with a dozen odd other hikers. We all supped on a delicious Mexican spread and discussed gear, ambitions, and just the general thrill of the trail.
We truly have come from all over. There are half a dozen Israelis, some New Zealander's who have been doing thru-hikes for years, quite a few North-Easterners, and everything in between. It is a thrilling and affirming starting energy to be in.
Tomorrow morning they are dropping us off at the Mexican Border, and, as the seasoned Australian hiker woman told me, that first step makes all the difference in the world.

Ready? Set? _ _!!!

After so many months of planning and preparation, the time is actually nigh! The most striking thing about being a day out from departure is the sense of placidity. Up until now I have been dealing with bouts of hyper-reality. For example, a few days ago I was walking in the park and happened to let my mind untether, as I was just watching my feet. I slipped onto the trail without even sensing it. I saw the descriptions I had read and they were made real by my own recollections of similar environments. When I looked up and realized I was in Kansas City it felt like what I would imagine a space travel landing would.

Yesterday I tore up all my guide books into the sections I will need along the trail, purchased that last few odd bits for my pack, and sat down with my parents to review their role in this whole endeavour.
I have been blessed with a truly supportive family. While they may not understand my motivation to undertake this effort (or, as my Granddaddy said, "I understand, I just wonder if YOU do") they have truly come out to support and back me on this. My grandparents drove up from Oklahoma to spend a few days with us. On Sunday night my uncle, aunt and cousins all drove up to wish me well. Those who are unable to visit in person are also very much present in my preparations. EG: When I graduated from High School my other aunt and uncle gave me a very nice Leatherman pocketknife which will be traveling with me. My Grandpa Somerville, though still groggy under post-surgical anesthesia, asked my mother about my departure and travel plans. And truly, the list goes on. For that, I thank you all, you are the reason I am able to do this.
One of my favorite things right now are the pieces of advice which are offered. My uncle advised me to listen to 'that little voice in the back of your head' when dealing with strangers. My mom advised me to keep in regular contact, for my own well being, as well as her own sanity. The man who runs the deli where I used to work told me to 'let the trail tell you where to go' the insurance lady on the phone told me to 'have fun and be safe.' All wise words, which I intend to keep.

As to the hard skills, the planning episode is as done as it will ever be. I have emailed most of you my itinerary and such and have, for myself, reduced and laminated that same information. I weighed my pack and it has a base weight of about 17 lbs, not including consumables (food, fuel, sunscreen; you know, stuff that gets consumed).
I went shopping with Mom last night and picked up food for my first week on the trail as well as enough to pack into a box which I will be mailing to myself at about a week down the trail. I tallied the calories I will get each day and, despite the fact that it seems like quite a lot of food, I am only looking at about 2500 calories a day, at best. I will supplement this once I'm in San Diego by adding some cheese, gorp, olive oil, and other snacky bits. Learning the appropriate food quantities and weights will be a process in evolution. My needs and wants along the trail will change, not only because of caloric needs but also because I am a human and we tend to prefer variety.
I have made and tested my 'Penny Stove' and while mine is not quite as efficient as it might be (it boils a cup of water in 6.5 minutes as opposed 5) it will certainly do the trick.
At this particular moment I don't exactly know what to do with myself. I will probably unpack my bag, write out some pertinent addresses and steal a few fire starter logs from Dad's camping tubs. Don't tell.

I fly out for San Diego tomorrow morning at 7:21. I will be on the trail by the next morning.

Final Fortnight Factors

A week ago I was decades away from today. I faced a span of time only slightly longer than what was needed. It has been difficult; my Spirit has already jumped ship and is off somewhere along the West coast. My heart, on the other hand, is stretched taut. She still aches for those friends and comforts which I grew to love in Montana. At current though, the most predominant aching imprint is that of my little sister. I do love making instances to be with her. To tag into her life and watch as she grows into an admirable, sure footed, and beautiful woman. The love and truth which sometimes only a sister can see and speak. That kid is well wise beyond her years. And still my heart envis-aches for those I have yet to reach. My parents, Hughes grandparents, friends, pets, the smell of home, my bed, my bathtub, and the big windows in my room which look out across the expanse of our backyard to the gully forest where I am willing to bet Spring is taking hold.
This morning I meandered out into a patch of Illinois prairie and celebrated this day. The birds danced and dove, quarreled and mated, all while singing their own renditions of praise. I walked into the woods but the litter was sickening and the bag I carried to pick it up was quickly filled. Unperturbed, the stream trickled and gurgled and frothed forward. A few joggers and walkers passed, nodding greetings. The sunny sky beamed down on us, manifesting smiles on our human faces. The woods were still quiet, in that daze of recent awakening. Not yet fully stretched and ready to commit to wakefulness, but slowly coming into consciousness. It truly was a peaceful and blessed morning.
As of now, though, I sit aboard the Southwest Chief Train. Before Chicago, I spent 25 hours aboard the Empire Builder. Most evenings on the train, I have to stride the length of it periodically and jog the length of the stations, weaving between the smokers, reminding myself why I do not want to be one of them again. Before I eat an evening meal, I make my way to the Observation Car where folk chatter more freely and windows everywhere allow you to watch the sky above and the corridors of landscape which frame our progress.
This evening the sunset was beautiful. We had just passed through Fort Madison, Iowa and got a glance of the recreation of the old fort, as the original burned down a couple hundred years ago. What stands now serves no military purpose; it is naught but a nod to history and occupies some prime real estate along the swollen Mississippi. After we pulled out of that quaint town (which also hosts a Federal Pen [I learned from a pamphlet I found about the train route]) and the sun began to sink, shadows threw themselves across the rolling hills of seeping green. Spindly branches reached from the top of narrow trees, clawing into the drooping darkness, creating black profiles against deepening blue.
Fields and hillocks are saturated still by snow melt and April Showers. Bogs of standing water glint from between crop rows of shucks. The hollow, retired wheat sheaths create the shelter and environment which their successors need to begin their own cycle of life. The earth changes tone depending on where it is but this evening’s display was a rich black; laden with nutrients which are being imbibed by seed and pip, producing tiny, incandescent green buds. Delicate knots of life emerge from the tips of seemingly sleeping branches. Sprouts and tufts peep up from the ground itself. Tiny flowers agglomerate into subtle carpets. It is all so hopeful and fresh and inquisitive. Working insistently toward full being-hood.
Cripes, am I in love with Spring time or what?!

In this fortnight advent of the adventure it is nigh impossible to wholly wrap myself around it as a concept. Fortunately, the PCT is not long to be a concept. In ten days it will become my daily reality. Sometimes, when I get overwhelmed by all there is to do, I step back and remind myself that what I am doing is really rather simple. I am walking in a northward direction; all this planning and concern for detail is to make it easier and more fun. Woo hoo. A trail, a trial. A consistent and supportive source truth. I continue to review and revamp my resupply plans and am still compiling a list of addresses and dates where you might (hopefully) direct letters and maybe treats along the trail.
Anna and I went to REI today and, with the aid of a $50 divided and $120 on a returned pack, I walked out of there with the few remaining tidbits of gear I needed to buy, and $120.32 less poor. All in all a good experience; rarely does one go to a store and make purchases and walk out the richer for it!
As to food planning, from what I have read, it is more prudent to calculate food consumption according to caloric needs rather than the foodstuffs themselves. Naturally my diet will largely be at the mercy of whatever the shops along the way have to offer. I have begun to make a habit of considering labels and percentages on various foodstuffs throughout the various grocery stores I encounter. A primary consideration pertains to how much energy I can get for the weight. Thus, whole grain noodles would be more enticing than bleached white wheat…for so many reasons. I will be striving for a daily intake of 5000 calories.
Breakfast will largely be bars and nut mixes. When I get into colder temperatures I may heat some water in the morning and mix some powdered milk into oatmeal or some such, just something to kick start. However, breakfast will not likely be a big ordeal of a meal. There are so many breakfast bars available, I get dizzy trying to read all their information. Trying to do the calorie to weight math in my head and decide which would be most prudent to carry. I can only hope that it becomes easier with experience.
Lunches should be fun meals. There are a plethora of spots along the way where I plan to park my behind and feed my face. Lunch foods will mostly be crackers, tortillas, cheese (for the first few days out of town), tuna packets, SPAM, peanut butter (yes, I will eat peanut butter for this, that is how serious I am) etc.
I will prepare supper a few miles before I make evening camp, thus more effectively using the calories I get to my body and keeping the smell of food away from my evening camp, helping the “please stay away, bears” Campaign. For these meals I will be using my pop can stove along with some form of denatured alcohol (usually HEET) and will boil a cup or two of water to rehydrate mashed potatoes, boxes of stuffing, noodles, pretty much anything that comes in a light and convenient packet, carries some calories, and will keep me warm. It is generally regarded as a good idea to drench meals with olive oil, as it has one of the highest calorie counts for its weight. Not to mention it is delicious.
I will supplement the meals with trail mixes, jerkys, and pretty much anything which catches my eye in the shop. I will also be carrying a women’s multi vitamin. In particular I am after something heavy in calcium and iron, as I have a history of anemia, am a female, and the Depo-Povera shot apparently siphons it away; where to and how, I know not.
I have tons of finer figuring to do before I take off bright and early on the 14th. So much that it is overwhelming if I don’t keep it in order. One of these points is how I will maintain my blog for y’all on the trail. No matter what, I will find a way as I love writing and I have heard a few compliments and expressions of joy at my chronicling of adventures (sure, this is me blatantly fishing for post compliments). I cannot predict how my writing will manifest on the trail but I am sure excited to find out.
Dear all, please keep me in your prayers and thoughts as I prepare to undertake one of the most independent, preparation heavy, physically challenging, and thrilling adventures of my (as yet) rather short life.