Barely North of the Border (PCT Day 2)

I awake to light on the tent. It’s been over 12 hours. Rachel makes a noise. 

“Good morning” I say to her. “We should probably get up and get moving while it’s still cool.”

We have about 11 miles to lake Morena and we must make our water last. We have just under 4 liters left to get us there. That’s not too bad, but we’ll use some for breakfast, and there’s also a climb ahead that will be warm. It’s a clear sunny day. We’re best off moving early while it’s cool.

We both hop up and pack our gear. We’re quickly back on the trail, agreeing to eat breakfast in a couple miles. We pass the camps of a few other hikers, and say hello to Shepherd as we pass his. He says he slept well but had four legged visitors, of the tiny variety last night. We laugh and continue hiking. 

After a couple miles we stop in some shade to eat some breakfast. Today’s menu includes Muesli with coconut milk and chia. I also snack on some peanut butter and banana chips. Weve skipped coffee this morning to conserve water, and my head is starting to feel the effects. But the water and calories help. Shepherd passes us and says hello again.

We nibble then continue our hike. The trail heats up as we approach noon. Rachel and I admire the desert bushes, and enjoy the shade of the chaparral with it’s rich red bark and green leaves.

The trail spits us out onto a dirt road and we hike downward. We come upon a service crew fixing an antennae. I almost make a wrong turn and they point us in the right direction, further down the road.

At this point my head is killing me and it’s warm. We stop in the dirt road under the shade of a boulder and snack and briefly sip on water. Ahead we spot the trail marker, and an interesting sign warning caution for rattlesnakes and drowning. “Oh my” I say to Rachel, “Isn’t that an exciting sign?”

The trail descends into a valley. Near the bottom I hear voices carrying out from under the trees. Rachel and I walk into the trees to enjoy the shade and have some lunch. We spot poison oak and try to step around it carefully. 

“Hello!” a girl says sitting under a tree. Rachel greets her and we sit in a secluded place under a tree pulling snacks from our plastic pouches. My head feels miserable and Rachel offers me an Excedrin. We snack and I feel the caffeine kick in about 10 minutes later. The relief is welcome and awakens me. Rachel takes one as well.

I overhear a woman and two guys talking about blisters. “Blisters already on day 1 or 2?” I think, “that’s not good”. Suddenly I feel thankful for how my feet are feeling. No complaints thus far.

As we are finishing up our lunch, another woman arrives and sits slightly behind us under the trees. She asks us if we’re hiking the whole PCT. We say yes and ask her the same. She’s finishing a loop hike and lives in Palm Springs. We chat with her for a few minutes and enjoy her calm company. She offers us some of her extra water before we continue and we thank her, adding half a liter to one of Rachel’s dry bottles. Then we charge off to climb 1,000 ft. We have less than 5 miles to Lake Morena now. 

The upward hike is pleasant as we plow upward in the sunshine, the caffeine fresh in our blood, pushing us into high gear. It feels good to climb we agree and there’s a pleasant breeze that cools us as we rise above the valley.

The desert mountains come into view and we shuffle up the sandy soil. Near the top we spot giant boulders shaped like marmots, a preview of the friends to come in the sierras, hundreds of miles north of here. 

We walk through the chaparral, kicking up sand in our wake. It’s gritty and firm on our feet. As the trail begins to descend we lose ourselves in thought, the wind rustling in the brush, growing louder, louder, buzzing…

“Bees!” Rachel yells.

I turn around to see a cloud of bees hovering above and behind her, their loud hum filling the air.

“Move!” I yell, and we both quickly run down the trail. Quietness returns, and we turn around to see the bees have not pursued us. Close call. 

We reach the Lake Morena campground around 2 or 3 pm. The PCT hikers camp is full of sun burnt skin and people chatting. 

“What a day?!? That hill just kept going” I hear people in conversation. A lady walks by and says hello, followed by “hard day, huh?”

“Yeah we say, it was warm, but pretty nice”. The hiking seemed pretty nice to Rachel and I. We wander off to find some electricity and charge our phones at a small building in the shade. I meet a woman from Missouri who started two days earlier. She has epilepsy and took today off in Lake Morena to recharge. She’s nice. She says everyone she told she was hiking told her not to do it, except her dad and daughter.

“Good on you for following through” I say. That’s courageous, I think to myself. If I had that many people doubting me, I’m not sure I would be here. Rachel and I had the opposite. With every one we told we were waiting for someone to say “that’s crazy! You can’t do that!” We never did, so we kept planning. Now here we are today.

The campground is noisy with car campers piling in for the weekend. We watch three guys, one with a giant cowboy hat, as they pitch a tint the size of a condo. Then they stack what seems like a cord of wood next to their fire pit. One wears a giant cowboy hat. They chatter the whole time. Rachel and I laugh and find them amusing. Two dogs play in a small kennel, wrestling.

We decide we’ll eat dinner then continue down the trail a little further to find serenity, and peace. It’s a Friday, and this campground could be noisy. It’s day 2 and we’re not ready to socialize with strangers yet. After all the intensity of the last few days, we crave the quiet of nature.

Before hiking out we stop at the PCT hikers camp. Rachel had set out her socks to dry and they appear to have run off. She’s searching and asks a young man walking by us, “have you seen any toe socks that have blown off around here”.

“I’ve seen a lot of toe socks around here on people’s feet and questioned every one of them but I have not seen any sitting out.”

Rachel and I are both quiet. I guess he was kidding but I’m confused. Perhaps I miss the humour, or maybe I’m just tired. The moment feels slightly akward. Rachel continues searching for her lost socks.

“Maybe that was more info than you needed. Maybe a simple no would have sufficed” he says.  

“Probably” I think, but it’s not worth saying aloud. The moments already akward so I’ll avoid contributing any more to that. 

“Is that a (insert fancy name here) jacket?” He says looking at my orange windbreaker.

“No, actually it’s homemade” I say. 

“What?!! Were you flattered that I thought it was a (insert fancy name here) jacket?” He asks.

“I don’t know what that is” I say. This is akward. Why do I always find myself in these akward situations that make me feel like the jerk.

“It’s a (insert other unfamiliar name) jacket”. I still don’t recognize the brand. I don’t pay that much attention to gear I guess.

Rachel is now searching behind me for her socks.

“What type of insulation is that?” He asks. 

“There is none, it’s a windbreaker” I say. I feel bad. This conversation is going nowhere. I guess I’m no good at small talk, or not in the mood right now.

“I found them!” Rachel says triumphantly walking between the two hikers chatting under the shaded picnic area. Someone had put them in the hiker box. 

Thank goodness. We pack our gear and hit the trail. In less than a mile we find a peaceful sandy meadow. We stop and pitch our tent, and take a short walk as the sun drafts behind the hills.

In the tent Rachel drifts off to sleep listening to a book. I hear dogs barking from nearby houses, and turkeys gobbling. I wonder if they’re wild. The air cools and I tuck my head into a wool knit cap and close my eyes wondering what we’ll see tomorrow.