I have a headache when I awake. I reach for a water bottle. It cools my throat and comforts my head. I listen for noise outside my tent, to see if my friends are yet stirring. It’s quiet. It’s 6 am. Lupine’s sleeping. I roll over and close my eyes hoping my headache goes away. I don’t want to get up. I decide to enjoy the quiet.
I lay this way for 20-30 minutes before my bladder moves me into motion. I stumble from the tent, dragging my tired legs. The air fees cool and nice. There are no voices to ruin the morning. I stumble back to my tent, and lay down once again. My little air mattress is bliss.
Eventually Lupine wakes and she gets up before me, starting some coffee. I follow suit and pack the tent. Siracha and Chef take off down the trail before us, as I take the time to filter more water. The next water source is a spring in 7 miles.
When we set off up the trail I feel rejuvenated. My headache fades away. The trail today pleasantly wanders through trees and boulders. Pine needles fill the forest floor. I can smell them in the air. I’m relieved to see trees. Still it is the dry, but for once we’re not in the desert. We are so tired of the desert. But the pine trees offer promises of the Sierras up ahead.
As we wander through the woods, my mind is entertained by the scents and scenes of the forest. Finally, we’re amongst the trees. Goodbye desert, I say in my head.
When we reach a dusty dirt road, my shirt is soaked in sweat. The sun is blazing overhead, and I spot a water cache near the trail, gallon bottles left for the taking. We skip them and turn left, opting for the short walk to Landers Meadow Spring.
At the bottom of the dirt road there is a campground to our left, and a green meadow to our right, where Chef and Siracha are lounging in the shade. We join them, filling our water from the spring, swiftly flowing into an overflowing cistern. The water is cool, and we soak our feet in the small, but steady flow.
We eat lunch with Chef and Siracha, moving our gear along with the sun as it takes over the shade. Chef and Siracha finish lunch and leave before us. I soak my shirt and my hat, and we fill our remaining bottles. Then Lupine gasps, and points.
A coyote stops in the meadow, looking at us. It appears he was heading our way, then he decides to change course. He crosses the stream heading away from us, then looks back at us from a hillside, before continuing on his way. With that we toss our bags into our backs, and continue on our way as well.
We hike for several more miles through pleasant scenery. Around 3 pm, the trail begins to descend, the trail etched into the hillside tucking under branches. Beyond the landscape becomes familiar. There’s desert as far as we can see. Desert. Dry. Desolate. Sand. Brown. It looks like we haven’t outrun the desert just yet.
As we descend the temperature rises. I am sweating profusely. Around 4 pm we reach our next water cache, a large collection of water bottles sitting next to a dirt road.
Chef and Siracha are sitting there along with a section hiker. She’s heading southbound. There’s only the shade of shrubs. So we try to sit in it as we snack. Lupine reaches into the food bag and pulls out some melted chocolate. Better to let the chocolate solidify again so we don’t make a mess. We discuss our plans with Sriracha and Chef. There’s a place we can camp about 2 miles further, and we decide to go for that.
When we arrive at the camp, it’s still blistering hot. We hide from the sun, sitting in the course brown sand. Here we are in the desert again, waiting for the sun to set, before we set our tents. We laugh, and chat, making the best of it, which is never hard to do.
Lupine snaps a picture of the current situation. Hot desert, Joshua Trees, and her healing (but still itchy) poison oak rash.
It’s warm tonight, so Lupine and I leave our rain fly off. As the dusk settles in I spot bats sweeping through the sky above us. Then it darkens. I fall asleep to the stars, my eyes jolting open when a shooting star fills the sky. Then I close them again. Several hours later, I awake, confusing the moon for the rising sun. It illuminates our camp. I admire it then roll over, turning my back to fall asleep.
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