We wake to the sound of wind turbines. I remove my earplugs and stretch my legs and feet in my sleeping bag. My feet and ankles are tired. Soon they will be in new shoes and my feet remind me daily that new shoes are overdue. We hike in trail running shoes, and they usually only last for 300 – 600 miles. My current pair are on the high end of that range.
Chef heads out early, eager to get to town where he can tend to his blisters. We will see him down the trail.
After breakfast and coffee, we pack up and continue our trek across the Mojave. It’s a warm, sunny day. Cactus and I walk through the rest of the wind turbines on the desert floor, each absorbed in our own thoughts. My mind wanders to many different topics. I think about my dogs back home and realize it’s been a month since I got a kiss on the nose from Frieda. It makes me miss them. At the same time, when I am reunited with them, it means our adventure is over.
Soon we are climbing into the mountains again. It’s getting warm and I’m starting to sweat. After about 6 miles we encounter a stream bed with just a trickle of water. Our trail water guide suggests that this is a reliable water source, but I’m only able to collect about 1.5 liters. We break for lunch under the shade of a lone tree. I prepare the lentils I have been soaking for the past 12 hours. They are delicious and very filling. We feel reenergized from our meal and continue upwards.
The mountains are steep and sandy. The trail is eroded and the sand unstable to walk on. It’s sunny and there is no shade. But, I actually enjoy climbing. There’s a meditative quality to it. I listen to my book and put one foot in front of the other. We climb higher and the enormous wind turbines become little white sticks poking out of the desert floor.
Finally we reach a water cache. It’s supplied by a local. There’s a large, red umbrella with chairs under it. There’s also a table with metal cabinets filled with curious types of food. Canned yams and beets, a box of (shelf stable?) milk, and a can of random condiments. Several other hikers we know are there. Sitting and joking under the umbrella. It’s a nice spot, but we are eager to get to camp, .7 miles up the trail. We hear the next campsite is in a grove of Coulter Pine, and that sounds lovely.
Sriracha, Chef, Cactus and me all set up for the evening in the grove. It’s shaded and cool. I relish the sweet smell of pine.
We all split the last Modelo we packed out from Hikertown, eat dinner and then crawl into our tents.
Leave a Reply