These past weeks have been spent acclimating to the trail routine. It's rather straightforward, really. Wake up, pack up, eat, walk, eat, walk, set up, eat, sleep. Repeat. Repeat. Yet, each day brings it's own treasures and tribulations. For example, Guffy campground was a lovely place to stay; but the water was pretty far down a steep ridge.
Coming out of Devil's Punch Bowl and beginning the 39 mile road walk re-route, we switched up the routine and cooked lunch for dinner before hitting the pavement for a desert walk into the extending shadows of late afternoon. Around dusk, a car slowed down. A daughter, Ashley, was driving home from work with her Dad, Doug. They offered up their lawn, some two miles ahead; we accepted happily. Not only did we all 'cowboy'(sleep out in the open in only a sleeping bag) under their childhood play set, they also invited us all in for ice cream and cake. Our arrival coincided with a visit form their son, a recent college grad, and his climbing buddies. There were many cookies in a Tupperware in the kitchen. We chit-chatted and explained our objective, motivating factors, and food strategy before hitting the hay at 'hiker midnight' (8:45 pm)
The next few days were lost to a road beaten and simmered head and feet. I am pretty sure I lost grip with reality for several segments of time but it was only witnessed by others, who understood, and so let it pass.
Now we are gathered at the home of the Saufleys, Hiker Heaven. L-Rod opens her home and with corporate efficiency, to scores of hikers. She pushes laundry through, feeds two horses, tends to a pack of geriatric dogs and still makes time to help out when the likes of me gets a bike chain malfunction on one of their fleet of 'to town' bikes.
Yesterday, Rif-Raf hunched over maps of the trail after Kennedy Meadows. The John Muir Trail promises to be absolutely snowbound, leaving us only the option of trudging through on snowshoes, making about 15 miles a day. We held a conference in Dude and Trouble's huge and awesome palace of a tent. Checking numbers and distances, elevations of passes, and what time of day to hit them. For about 4 hours I felt like I was in a war room. All our planning aside, we cannot anticipate what the High Sierras hold; aside from long runs between resupplies.
The plan of attack being set, we resupplied for this next 6 day run and packed our bear vaults with food to be sent to Kennedy Meadows. Another week and a half of desert walking and there we'll be.
Team Crass-a-Frass held a conference regarding group interdependency. That each unit maintain a greater degree of autonomy was our general conclusion but with first regards to safety in environments like the mountains. I know I am blessed to be hiking with sound reasoners and the independent leanings of each is why we get along so well.
And so, northward we press.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Who'd-a-thunk it
It feels ridiculous to admit that my winter survival skills were most heartily tested in a Southern California summer. However, facts are as they stand.
Six days ago Rif-Raf, Frog and I caught a ride out of Idyllwild with a well known trail angel, David Ledbetter. He told us stories of years and seasons past. Every mile closer to the trail, it became harder to sit still and wait. Finally we were there and were powering through the scrubby, mid-morning ascent The switchbacks finally gave way to a crest and trail which swung up peaks and dropped through saddles. The desert valley floor spread out some 6000 ft below. Across it the San Andreas Fault crimped the earth. It looked like a giant gopher had burrowed past.
Our ridge became idyllic, green landscape. A mix of deciduous and coniferous trees filled the spaces between alpine meadows. A crystal blue lake danced under the afternoon sun in some tucked away valley floor. We began to notice snow, frozen into sideways blown icicles, clinging to the south sides of trees and shrubs. While I had chafed at spending 2 days in Idyllwild, we were all glad not to have been present for the storm which had made those!
Nonetheless, passing when we did, it felt almost ethereal.
The next morning began a 2000 ft climb over 1.6 miles. As the trail snaked into craggy nooks and around the South face of mountains and ridges, we began to encounter patches of snow. Anxious to be safe (and to play with our winter gear) we carried our ice axes in the uphill hand, and poles for steadying on the downhill side. At first the patches were short and flat. Then short and steep. Fortunately others had passed before us and kicked in steps. Then the patches were longer and steeper and we began strapping on our traction devices, crampon or microspikes. By the last 2 miles there were no signs of the trail and we were relying on the contour lines and Granite and Terrapin’s GPS to give us the way points to follow. That night we made camp on the snow and slept cold and hard.
The whole of the next day was the same, except with new challenges. Our resident Viking, Granite muscled out front, cutting steps and shooting bearings. Rif-Raf was our route scout, picking his way ahead and calling us along. When safer options were available. We traversed snow chutes thousands of feet long and paused to enjoy views when our axes were snuggly sunk and the footing was good.
The difference in the snow quality changed dramatically depending on sun exposure. The open fields were soft and prone to post-holing, under the shade of trees it was icy. At one point I slipped and lid some 10 ft before I was able to roll and self arrest. It was exciting and I am glad for the half day of training on the glacier last year! The south-east slopes were largely melted and clear and we got a couple half mile sections of exposed trail. The rest of the time we were doing good to make it a mile an hour. One day we made 8 miles and I’ve never worked harder for it!
Yesterday we began to bleed elevation, dropping a total of 7000 ft. The trail ambled and meandered down scrubby desert and through boulder fields.
One rock looked like a huge schnoz; we had fun with that! Another was a catcher’s mitt and still another was as monkey wearing a Spanish Armada Helmet. 16 miles spat us out into a wide ravine where the local towns gather melt water to try to reduce the amount trucked in. A small fountain stood proud to see, as you would think we’d found the fountain of youth.
We all hid from the afternoon heat in the shade of a boulder and took turns cleaning ourselves and our socks. As a group we decided to hitch into the town of Cabazon as the snow had slowed us down enough to run us a day shy on food. So as to stagger our hitching efforts, Frog, Rif-Raf and I made dinner with the others at the water source and then moved out into the windy desert flats to camp.
We watched the sun recede up the face of the mighyt San Jacinto Mountain and the ridges from which we came. The snow riveted peak wore a skirt of sandy foot hills, stained red by the sunset. Ridge faces speckled by shrubs looked exactly as even any tiny component; sandy blond with tiny dark speckles.
And so, another mountain range passed. Today we moved into a wind turbine field. The mighty beasts whistle their winsome song as I write this, hidden in the shade of an above ground water tank, waiting for the final four of our seven to catch up.
Oh yeah, so our original five: Granite, Terrapin, Rif-Raf, Frog and I finally met up with friends of Granite and Terrapin from the east. Dude hiked the AT with them in 2007 and his woman, Trouble, is my most favorite singing partner. Our powers combined are team CRASS-a-FRASS.
Six days ago Rif-Raf, Frog and I caught a ride out of Idyllwild with a well known trail angel, David Ledbetter. He told us stories of years and seasons past. Every mile closer to the trail, it became harder to sit still and wait. Finally we were there and were powering through the scrubby, mid-morning ascent The switchbacks finally gave way to a crest and trail which swung up peaks and dropped through saddles. The desert valley floor spread out some 6000 ft below. Across it the San Andreas Fault crimped the earth. It looked like a giant gopher had burrowed past.
Our ridge became idyllic, green landscape. A mix of deciduous and coniferous trees filled the spaces between alpine meadows. A crystal blue lake danced under the afternoon sun in some tucked away valley floor. We began to notice snow, frozen into sideways blown icicles, clinging to the south sides of trees and shrubs. While I had chafed at spending 2 days in Idyllwild, we were all glad not to have been present for the storm which had made those!
Nonetheless, passing when we did, it felt almost ethereal.The next morning began a 2000 ft climb over 1.6 miles. As the trail snaked into craggy nooks and around the South face of mountains and ridges, we began to encounter patches of snow. Anxious to be safe (and to play with our winter gear) we carried our ice axes in the uphill hand, and poles for steadying on the downhill side. At first the patches were short and flat. Then short and steep. Fortunately others had passed before us and kicked in steps. Then the patches were longer and steeper and we began strapping on our traction devices, crampon or microspikes. By the last 2 miles there were no signs of the trail and we were relying on the contour lines and Granite and Terrapin’s GPS to give us the way points to follow. That night we made camp on the snow and slept cold and hard.
The whole of the next day was the same, except with new challenges. Our resident Viking, Granite muscled out front, cutting steps and shooting bearings. Rif-Raf was our route scout, picking his way ahead and calling us along. When safer options were available. We traversed snow chutes thousands of feet long and paused to enjoy views when our axes were snuggly sunk and the footing was good.
The difference in the snow quality changed dramatically depending on sun exposure. The open fields were soft and prone to post-holing, under the shade of trees it was icy. At one point I slipped and lid some 10 ft before I was able to roll and self arrest. It was exciting and I am glad for the half day of training on the glacier last year! The south-east slopes were largely melted and clear and we got a couple half mile sections of exposed trail. The rest of the time we were doing good to make it a mile an hour. One day we made 8 miles and I’ve never worked harder for it!Yesterday we began to bleed elevation, dropping a total of 7000 ft. The trail ambled and meandered down scrubby desert and through boulder fields.
One rock looked like a huge schnoz; we had fun with that! Another was a catcher’s mitt and still another was as monkey wearing a Spanish Armada Helmet. 16 miles spat us out into a wide ravine where the local towns gather melt water to try to reduce the amount trucked in. A small fountain stood proud to see, as you would think we’d found the fountain of youth.We all hid from the afternoon heat in the shade of a boulder and took turns cleaning ourselves and our socks. As a group we decided to hitch into the town of Cabazon as the snow had slowed us down enough to run us a day shy on food. So as to stagger our hitching efforts, Frog, Rif-Raf and I made dinner with the others at the water source and then moved out into the windy desert flats to camp.
We watched the sun recede up the face of the mighyt San Jacinto Mountain and the ridges from which we came. The snow riveted peak wore a skirt of sandy foot hills, stained red by the sunset. Ridge faces speckled by shrubs looked exactly as even any tiny component; sandy blond with tiny dark speckles.
And so, another mountain range passed. Today we moved into a wind turbine field. The mighty beasts whistle their winsome song as I write this, hidden in the shade of an above ground water tank, waiting for the final four of our seven to catch up.
Oh yeah, so our original five: Granite, Terrapin, Rif-Raf, Frog and I finally met up with friends of Granite and Terrapin from the east. Dude hiked the AT with them in 2007 and his woman, Trouble, is my most favorite singing partner. Our powers combined are team CRASS-a-FRASS.
Newspaper article about the Trek
You can read what a Smithville Herald reporter wrote regarding the Trek at this site:
http://smithvilleherald.com/201005129435/news/community-news/local-woman-on-2650-mile-trek.html
Welcome to the blog if you just connected through the article.
Note, it should say, South America, not South Africa.
http://smithvilleherald.com/201005129435/news/community-news/local-woman-on-2650-mile-trek.html
Welcome to the blog if you just connected through the article.
Note, it should say, South America, not South Africa.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
We're All in This Thing Together
This past weekend was the annual kick-off celebration. As with such gatherings, word spread widely and frantically concerning everything from weather to the number of attendees. 100-700 people were there, according to the gossip, although it felt like 7000. Terrapin, Granite, and I got to ride with Frog, as his lovely woman, Nancy, came down from San Francisco to see just what kind of fruckus he was getting himself into. What has taken us a week of hiking was covered in an hour and a half.
Upon arrival we were all directed to the 'thru-hiker' section of the camp. It was easy to find as there were several hundred itty bitty tents, as opposed to the comfort palaces of those who came to celebrate the trail and community. A variety of presentations were offered ranging from mountain lion safety to water/snow reports. My favorite was a panel of three women who had hiked the whole thing some decades since. One of the panelists was Jean Murdof, a woman who rode the trail in 1959 with her husband. Every person they contacted had told them it could not be done in a single season. They did it anyway. When Scout and Frodo (the coordinators) posited the question "What was your favorite piece of gear?", she replied, "My horse!"
Hearing these women's stories truly was a source of inspiration. I experienced a moment of placement, as I sat listening to them. They were mother past, speaking words of experience to myself as woman present. Beside me a freckle faced little girl played with a puppy. Daughter future. It was wonderful.
I enjoyed observing all the other hikers around me, with aspirations like my own. The dread-locked young hippie-avants, the older folks, setting out to fulfill life long dreams, and everything in between. Each with our own motivators, but all with the same objective, Canada.
Sunday morning we tore down our camps, headed back up with Frog and Nancy, and headed up to Warner Springs. Despite fear-mongering tales of yet another storm ahead and snow levels becoming to nothing shy of a Yeti, we hiked into a beautiful sunny day. Ten miles up the trail our little clan made camp in a boulder field in a high mountain cup. Despite word that it was a dry camp, a steady stream flowed by our tents and frogs sang us to sleep. The next day we trekked on through more desert scrub oak, manzanitas, and general sunnyness.
Four miles on we crossed a dirt road just as several large horse trailers pulled up. They were a group from Back Country Horsemen of America. They were saddled up and packing back south to pick up a trail crew. Doing more than their part to love and maintain the trail. Cowgirl Jewel let us pet her valiant steed, Kansas, an impressive, powerful animal with a patient temperament. We were thanking them for their contribution to the PCT and Jewel just shrugged from astride Kansas, "You gotta be true to the trail." She smiled and took her postion in the queue as they rode off, leading their pack horses and mules. Having been blessed by several such encounters, I can assuredly say that a wide variety of marvelous and kind spirited people revolve around this trail, protecting, maintaining, and enjoying.
We camped along another stream in Nance Canyon. The water was flowing, but had a distinct...earthy taste. We were pleased to encounter a water cache some
Yesterday we rolled down to the Pines-to-Palms Highway 74 and hitched into Idyllwild. Rif-Raf, Frog, and I were picked up by a sweet woman named Christina who, being a life-long local, filled us in on all the area news. People like her make ventures like ours possible.
I began this entry under a gentle mist in the county park and now sit happily in a free-trade coffee shop, swapping stories and trail info with other hikers. Apparently this next bit is quite hairy. Those who have already passed Devil's Slide warn caution, it is a MUST for micro-spikes and an ice ax. Considering the money I dropped on a new pair of Montrail shoes and superfeet insoles (which I LOVE and have made a huge difference) and these upcoming snowgear purchases, I will be spending more than I had hoped, but as Terrapin put it, "Your life is worth more than all of it together!" I must agree. And so I conclude this and wander out into the town to finish errands.
Peace and perseverance!
Upon arrival we were all directed to the 'thru-hiker' section of the camp. It was easy to find as there were several hundred itty bitty tents, as opposed to the comfort palaces of those who came to celebrate the trail and community. A variety of presentations were offered ranging from mountain lion safety to water/snow reports. My favorite was a panel of three women who had hiked the whole thing some decades since. One of the panelists was Jean Murdof, a woman who rode the trail in 1959 with her husband. Every person they contacted had told them it could not be done in a single season. They did it anyway. When Scout and Frodo (the coordinators) posited the question "What was your favorite piece of gear?", she replied, "My horse!"
Hearing these women's stories truly was a source of inspiration. I experienced a moment of placement, as I sat listening to them. They were mother past, speaking words of experience to myself as woman present. Beside me a freckle faced little girl played with a puppy. Daughter future. It was wonderful.
I enjoyed observing all the other hikers around me, with aspirations like my own. The dread-locked young hippie-avants, the older folks, setting out to fulfill life long dreams, and everything in between. Each with our own motivators, but all with the same objective, Canada.
Sunday morning we tore down our camps, headed back up with Frog and Nancy, and headed up to Warner Springs. Despite fear-mongering tales of yet another storm ahead and snow levels becoming to nothing shy of a Yeti, we hiked into a beautiful sunny day. Ten miles up the trail our little clan made camp in a boulder field in a high mountain cup. Despite word that it was a dry camp, a steady stream flowed by our tents and frogs sang us to sleep. The next day we trekked on through more desert scrub oak, manzanitas, and general sunnyness.
Four miles on we crossed a dirt road just as several large horse trailers pulled up. They were a group from Back Country Horsemen of America. They were saddled up and packing back south to pick up a trail crew. Doing more than their part to love and maintain the trail. Cowgirl Jewel let us pet her valiant steed, Kansas, an impressive, powerful animal with a patient temperament. We were thanking them for their contribution to the PCT and Jewel just shrugged from astride Kansas, "You gotta be true to the trail." She smiled and took her postion in the queue as they rode off, leading their pack horses and mules. Having been blessed by several such encounters, I can assuredly say that a wide variety of marvelous and kind spirited people revolve around this trail, protecting, maintaining, and enjoying.
We camped along another stream in Nance Canyon. The water was flowing, but had a distinct...earthy taste. We were pleased to encounter a water cache some
Yesterday we rolled down to the Pines-to-Palms Highway 74 and hitched into Idyllwild. Rif-Raf, Frog, and I were picked up by a sweet woman named Christina who, being a life-long local, filled us in on all the area news. People like her make ventures like ours possible.
I began this entry under a gentle mist in the county park and now sit happily in a free-trade coffee shop, swapping stories and trail info with other hikers. Apparently this next bit is quite hairy. Those who have already passed Devil's Slide warn caution, it is a MUST for micro-spikes and an ice ax. Considering the money I dropped on a new pair of Montrail shoes and superfeet insoles (which I LOVE and have made a huge difference) and these upcoming snowgear purchases, I will be spending more than I had hoped, but as Terrapin put it, "Your life is worth more than all of it together!" I must agree. And so I conclude this and wander out into the town to finish errands.
Peace and perseverance!
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