Dust, Desert and Mountains (PCT Day 24)

It was cold last night and I had a sore throat. I must not have had enough water yesterday. Rachel wakes up and her eyes are excruciatingly irritated. She uses some eye wipes and takes an antihistamine, then I give her a handkerchief dipped in cold water to use as a cold compress. It provides slight relief. The camp last night was especially dusty and we assume it’s what’s causing Lupine’s eye irritation. We pack our bags and continue down trail to find a less dusty place for breakfast.

We settle in next to a stream to make some muesli, with coconut milk powder, chia, cinnamon, and freeze dried raspberry. I accidentally knock over the coffee water as it’s heating and we need to start over.

Behind us is a dirt road. As we’re cooking breakfast, a jeep stops and someone says “are you guys hiking the PCT?”

“Yeah” we respond. 

“Do you guys want some drinks or clif bars” the man in the Jeep asks.

We just resupplied so we’re hesitant to take more stuff. But curious, we approach the jeep. A fellow hiker, Shaman, walks by and they offer him as well. They have canned probiotic juice, kind of like kombucha. Shaman takes one, then do do Rachel and I. It’s delicious. Shaman guzzles his then smashes it under his foot. “You can see what I was like before I stopped drinking beer” he says then continues his hike after handing the people in the Jeep the can.

We learn the people are a family who run their own tortilla company called Kernel of Truth. Nickles, another hiker walks up as we finish our drinks. He accepts a carbonated water, guzzles it then burps. We all give them the cans and our garbage then thank them for their generosity. 

We return to our breakfast and chat with Nickles. He tells us about why he’s hiking the trail. He decided around the same time as us, in late January. He tells us about the property that was left to him by his father that then burnt up last year in a wildfire, and his uncle who tried to steal the land from him. Another hiker shows up and joins our chat. We enjoy the conversation and eventually get a late start on the trail around 10:30 am.

As we hike below the pines, we return to the desert. The sand is dusty and deprived yet tiny white flowers occasionally erupt alongside the trail. They’re easy to miss but when you start to look for them they’re everywhere. Just as I’m admiring them we run into Nickles admiring them as well. 

As we walk further from the high country pines I’m slightly saddened. Thus far, we always return to desert, which certainly holds it’s beauty. But the heat clinches you in it’s fist and wrings the water out. As we go north, I know it will only get much hotter. We still have the Mojave to cross. But there is rumour of a potential super bloom around the time we walk through. It inspires me of something to look forward to in the dryest place on earth. Maybe these tiny flowers are a tiny taste of what’s to come up trail. 

The clouds ripple like a washboard. We turn a corner and I hear running water. Or is it wind? Running water is a foreign sound in the desert and I haven’t heard it like this since we began the trail. Usually it’s just wind. I visually confirm the river through the bushes and the trail parralels above it for several miles. 

When we reach the creek we toss our bags on the rocks in the little shade we can find. We eat a lunch of asiago cheese, salami, banana chips with peanut butter, dried apricot and mango. We wash it down with crystal light lemonade. For dessert we both eat a snickers, softened by the sun. Rachel snickers at how I eat my snickers. I figure the best part is the carmel and peanuts so I always nibble the nugget away first then the chocolate layer, leaving a twisted mess of peanuts clustered in carmel. 

After lunch we lounge around Holman creek. I lay with my back on one boulder in the stream, my feet across the water propped on another boulder. It’s like nature’s Lazy Boy, situated in a stream. Who could want anything more? 

I watch a leaf flow over the shallow of a rock in the river, cling to it, then get washed away. Blue jays hover from branch to branch, yelling at us for staying too long.

This stream has my gratitude. It speaks to me saying “Stay. Sleep.”

I give in just a little and close my eyes. I notice Rachel do the same. This is the relaxation a city spa cannot provide. Man can not replicate. I can’t help but think we’re made for this. The way the ripples of running water plug into my brain, telling me to calm.

Eventually we rise from the creek and walk further down the trail. We cross a road where 4x4s are parked along the road. We’ve heard them driving and revving their engines as we rested by the creek. Rachel’s amused. “Is that one stuck?” she asks. “I hope so” I respond. 

As we hike further from the trail, following the creek, the sound of 4x4s diminish.

“I think that’s a silly hobby” Rachel says.

“Yeah it’s kind of an easy hobby” I say. “It doesn’t take a lot of skill to drive over things.”

Rachel laughs, “You sure have a way with words”.

We hike 6 more miles, in the cooling afternoon sun, following Holman Creek. After a couple hours we arrive at a large bridge crossing a creek way below. People are scattered along the creek with their tents and sleeping pads. We begin to cross the bridge, and look down. We see Shaman, Puffy and Shepard. We haven’t seen Shepard since Mike’s place. We hike down to the beach where they are gathered. 

We catch up with Shepard, filter water and cook dinner. Nickles arrives. Shaman introduces us to his friends who’ve come to visit. We sit eating dinner chatting with Puffy, Nickles and Shepard about the benefits of life on the trail and the shock of culture when you emerge into towns. It’s comforting and rare to be in the company of people with these shared virtues. 

After dinner we hike onward. The sun goes down and the cliffs steepen as we crawl up a canyon. It’s beautiful and frightening, hiking under the stars, with an invisible edge to our right.

We pull our headlamps from our bags and pass the 300 hundred mile marker, stopping for a picture.

We then hike the final mile to a camp site. We setup camp and admire the stars. The clouds swirl among them. We crawl into our tent.