Riv's 2015 PCT, Day 59, Part 1

Day 59, Sunday, August 23, Part 1

from campsite at PCT mile 2412.01, elev. 3240, walked  18.83 miles to campsite at PCT mile 2430.84, elev. 4222. total up/down: +4806/-3823. 

Dear Trail Friends,

As you can see, this part of the trail involves some steep ups and downs (I climbed almost 5000 ft today and went down almost 4000.). Why, you might ask ( I might too!) when there is no rush to meet Chris on Wednesday did I push myself to walk almost 19 miles instead of my planned 14?

The answer isn't easy or simple. Today JJ the young man from Korea who is named for James Joyce passes me and I realized that I will not see him again. As he walked away I saw his shorts were torn in back and I wished I could have the chance to see them for him. It reminded me of sewing the snaps on Machete's pants with a broken zipper. I had so wanted to do something for him. 

I think I was also thinking about the possibility this would be the last section of my hike. That I might not come back next year. It may be time to move on to shared dreams with Chris. 

I noticed having to climb over fallen logs, ford streams and I liked the way these evoked memories from earlier hikes. It occurred to me that maybe I wanted to keep open the option of going to the Hiker Haven, a trail angel come that welcomes hikers. Maybe I needed some kind of experience of the hiker community as part of my "wrap up."

I also liked the idea of hiking up to 4000 ft rather than sleeping at 3000. Elevation changes seem especially hard for me when I sleep low and hike high. 

I also reflected on how pushing for a goal often allows me paradoxically to drop into some kind of zone or trance where I am truly present. Slowing down isn't the only route to being present. It's like the athletic challenge keeps the ambitious (and anxious?), competitive (and aggressive?) part of my brain occupied counting hours and miles and it doesn't bother to launch harsh critical a tracks on me ( or others). I met a man the first day out of Snoquslmie Pass who was very critical of thru hikers and thought the athletic challenge causes them to ignore Leave No Trace ethics. ( in particular he disapproved of sleeping with one's food bag, as over against hanging it or using a bear canister). I thought a lot about both the content of what he said and the hostile affect. I wondered if he were more into athletics it might sublimate some of that aggression? Maybe so. Maybe not. 

Wow. I just peeked outside my tent to see the beautiful just slightly over half moon. Today was a day for wows. I don't have much to say about these photos except that I understand why the hike from Snoqualmie Pass to Stevens Pass is so popular for weekend or one or two week back pack trips. It is strenuous but it sure is beautiful. 

Photos 1 & 2. Mountains in morning light. 

Photo 3: That special morning moment when the light turns things pink or red. I wonder if this is what Homer meant by rosy fingered dawn. 

Photo 4. More morning mountains

Photo 5. Later morning. The bright snow/glaciers really show up as the sun gets higher and the light shines down on them. 

To be continued in Day 59, Part 2. 

Riv's 2015 PCT, Day 58, Part 2

Day 58, Saturday, August 22, Part 2

Continued from Day 58, Part 1

Photo 6. Remember Little Brown who hiked 6 miles up and then back so he could hike it again when it was clear and have a view? And who I asked to pick up my p-style for me?  He overtook me more or less when I thought he would, mid afternoon at my second water stop and did deliver my p-style as promised. (This sweet man also did another check for my lost merino underwear, but to no avail. )

Photo 7. River in front of the lovely little waterfalls at my second water stop. 

Photo 8. The photo fails to show all the gossamer-winged seeds floating through the air between silver trees in this burn area. I thought of those seeds, in the midst of the destruction of fire, catching and riding the waves of the wind. You have to imagine it from other photos of silver ghost trees and times you've seen dozens of fluffy winged seeds floating through the air. Let the air the seeds ride be our inspiration for riding the next wave (even in the midst of destruction, as in this burn area) and so this will be Bonnie's wave for today. 

I guess that's all. The day was so beautiful it deserves more than I have the energy to give. I did have an interesting experience washing out my underwear at the water stop. I kept trying to figure a way to do it privately. Finally I just sat down, pulled my pants and underpants off, draped my outer pants on my lap and rinsed the underpants and wrung them out well and slipped them back on (knowing they'd dry fast) and then pulled the outer pants on. With just one pair of underpants this fell in the "it just needs to be done" category. 

Happy trails. I will miss our little family of trail friends gathered together around this blog as much as I will miss the trail. This is an important part of the trail for me. Every night I write doesn't matter if I write badly or well I do my best to find some words to share the day along with the pictures. (Well, every night except when Chrissy was here.)  This practice and our connection is for me part of the hike. Thank you again. (And again and again). 

Riv's 2015 PCT, Day 57, Part 2

Day 57, Friday, August 21, Part 2

Photo 6. Trail, rocks, trees, mist

Photo 7. Drops of water from mist on Huckleberry leaves

Photo 8. More rocks, trees, mist. I hope you can imagine walking through this and the sense of mystery and the presence of the unknown because of the mist. So that what you do see you notice more acutely and with a sense of what a miracle each thing, its presence and its visibility, really is. 

Photo 9. Here is the astonishing view from my tentsite, including the sky playing its game --blue sky promising me the world, dark gray cloud threatening catastrophe, both at the very same time. 

Thanks for walking with me. This last little bit should be lovely. Good weather is predicted and a southbound hiker showed me breathtaking photos (taken on his fujifilm 161, which can zoom and do depth of field and all the things my iphone cannot -- though it did weigh a LOT--what an amazing difference in the quality of photos. He knew nothing about camera adjustments when he started and learned as he went on he trail. ) so I know the trail ahead is very beautiful. 

Barbara and her sister camped in this same area (near Ridge Lake). Another camper walked by and I called hello from my tent and told her where she could get water (an access point to the lake where there was clear water easily scooped up). We introduced ourselves (she is Susie from Portland camping with her friend Anne) and I described Barbara and Anita and Angel.  A little later Susie came back and brought Angel and Barbara with her!  Barbara sat in my tent with me and we talked a little, and agreed that she (and maybe Anita too) will visit sometime on Orcas. We talked about the feeling of ending (she had a sense that this beautiful stretch of trail with beautiful weather, and being with her sister Anne, will make a good ending). Barbara lives in Alabama but spends her summers on the west coast living in her van and doing all kinds of outdoors things--bicycling, hiking, climbing--I forget all the things she does. Anyway, even though this hike is coming to an end her west coast adventures and love of the outdoors are "to be continued. "

I can see when I compare myself to Barbara that much as I love the wilderness, I am more timid in it than she is. I am most comfortable when I am moving. It is hard for me to camp and sit still and just be here. I tried to do that tonight but I really got cold. I guess cold isn't necessarily the same as timid but somehow I think my vulnerability to discomfort when I sit still in camp is a kind of anxiety in these big open spaces. So beautiful. So full of distance and possibilities. So indifferent to me, and yet so encompassing of me. 

On a lighter note, not only did I lose both my p-style and my trail underwear, but the zipper on my tent is beginning to malfunction ( it comes open after zipping -- so far re-zipping fixes it, but I think it would not have made it through the rest of the planned hike. I will need to get it repaired. And one of the pockets on my backpack came loose from its "moorings" today. I repaired it with gorilla tape and am curious to see if it will hold. But it seems like signs are coming from many directions confirming my sense that it is time, for now, to say goodbye to the trail. 

Goodbye. Farewell. Auf weidersehn (so?). Adieu. 

It's never been easy for me to let go. (Like the imaginary cartoon I told you about, when I chose the name River, of a river clinging to its banks). 

It surely mixes the metaphors but time for this river to look for the next wave to ride. 

Happy trails, happy riding on the waves of your life. 

Riv's 2015 PCT, Day 57, Part 1

Day 57, Friday, August 21, Part 1 

From Summit Inn at Snoqualmie Pass  (.3 miles from PCT mile 2390.69, elev. 2998), walked 7.55 miles to campsite at PCT mile 2397.84, elev. 5327. Total up/down: +3142/-832. 

Dear Trail Friends,

I actually ended up stopping early today, though I will have to admit it is through no virtue of my own. Indeed I arrived here (where I in fact had planned  to camp) early in the afternoon and decided to rest, eat a meal (my "third breakfast" since I had breakfast at Summit Inn Pancake House before I left) and see if I could hike another 4 to 7 miles. But then the sky started to do strange things. First the sun broke through the mist and the warmth totally charmed me. Little bits of blue appeared in the sky. I was enchanted by the beauty of my surroundings. Then the sun went away and what had been white most began to look like the very gray underbelly of a rain cloud. The wind tossed and the air began to have that peculiar smell and feel (a drop in pressure, perhaps?) I associate with imminent rain. Cold as it was ( I had been hiking in my warm jacket and wool gloves) I did not relish the prospect of hiking in the rain. Instead, I rushed to pitch my tent as fast as I could do I would have shelter if a down pour began. 

As it turned out, the sky kept playing with me (as mountain skies often do) first with the sun coming out with a radiant smile and a wink (as in "now you see me, now you don't"), and then the mist and dark clouds ominously closing--like stage curtains-- yet again. I've known the sky to tease me this way for hours. 

Right now it is 4:24 pm. I am sitting in my tent on my air mattress, half in my silk liner bag and sleeping bag and not quite warm enough but not very very cold either. After awhile I will need to get out and see to the water I am filtering and pee again. Then I will probably go to sleep very early -- after eating dinner and starting breakfast "cooking" of course. 

This was a beautiful day for hiking. I noticed several hikers -- especially Barbara and Little Brown (who hiked 6 miles up and then turned around and hiked down because he wanted to be able to see) both feel strongly about wanting clearness and the ability to see distances. I like that too, I probably even like it best, but I also love mist and for me the mist makes me more aware of my visual surroundings even while it limits the distance I can see. It seems to soften, to give a sense of mystery. And I love to watch its motion, even more -- what word can I use? Subtle? Unpredictable? Surreptitious? -- than water. Fascinating to watch it move like an airy amoeba through the sky, revealing and concealing as it goes. The movement makes me so keenly aware both of what I can see and what I cannot see. 

When I was in my 20s I wrote a poem that I think I titled "Mist in the Mountains" that went something like this:

The mist knows something

I need to know. 

Someday, I will go. 

Up before sunrise, walking,

the insubstantial fingers

of the mist talking

To my seemingly 

substantial body. 

I like remembering that poem. It feels like a very early premonition of my "call" to the trail. But I always loved mountains -- ever since I was 5 years old and our family moved from Milwaukee to La Cresta CA. The call was always there in that sense. Once in my late 20s I painted a water color of mountains that seemed to me to resemble fir-covered mountains in mist. I like to think of that as a premonition of Or as Island. I like the idea that our lives have a secret, hidden order to them, like a rosebud unfolding or an acorn growing. 

Photo 1:  road sign near the restaurant across the street. I found it a fascinating name. You can see the mist in the background, also a big truck. There were lots of big trucks pulled over in the early morning. I wondered if they were testing or stopping for breakfast. I wondered what it is like to be a truck driver 

When I got up this morning I was feeling deeply rested. I wasn't particularly hungry and considered just heading for the trail (not waiting for a restaurant to open and to get a hot breakfast -- I was bored with eggs, hash browns, sausage and/or bacon). But then I imagined what I would really love for breakfast: hot oatmeal, chopped walnuts, banana and yogurt. I decided to check both little grocery stores for yogurt (of course I wanted plain yogurt, but flavored would do). So I walked over to one store and found it didn't open until 7am. The. I crossed I-90 to where Barbara and I had lunch yesterday and saw it offered only lunch and dinner (and coffee and pastries). As I walked I felt utterly alive: my body strong and also rested, the misty air cool and fresh and feeling invigorating as I inhaled -- almost as if it had a special taste or smell that was clean and clear and alert. I felt, as the Buddhists might say, awake. I knew I wanted to hike today, even if it rained. 

As I turned out, neither store had yogurt. But I was surprised and delighted to find that the pancake house had oatmeal and also buttermilk. I couldn't find walnuts but bought some nice mixed nuts and a lovely banana at the convenience store and added them to my oatmeal with buttermilk. What a feast. I ate with "Climin' Lineman" a 74 year old Mormon from Salt Lake City who is thru hiking and who takes every Sunday as a day of rest. Little Brown joined us, who has agreed to sign for my Amazon prime package today since he won't leave til tomorrow (he's the one who hiked 6 miles yesterday and turned around because he wanted to wait til a day when he wasn't in a cloud, when he could see the view. ) Zybas and since he hiked 30 miles a day and so will catch and pass me tomorrow. I found out Little Brown comes from LeGrand in eastern Oregon where he was a UPS supervisor but retired early at 55 (because of the stress on him and his wife because he got phone calls 24/7 to deal with whatever went wrong -- as supervisor he was the "go to" guy). 

Photo 2. After a leisurely breakfast I finished packing my pack and headed for the trail at 8:45am. I certainly didn't need an early start to hike only 7 miles. When I came to this sign I remembered that these 7 miles involves substantial elevation gain -- but as it turned out, between the good condition and good grading of the trail AND of course the beautiful views, it wasn't that hard a hike. Though it was slow as climbing generally is for me. 

Photo 3-5. Mist in the mountains

To be continued in Day 57, Part 2

Riv's 2015 PCT, Day 58, Part 1

Day 58, Saturday, August 22

From campsite at PCT mile 2397.84, elev. 5327, walked 14.17 miles to campsite at PCT mile 2412.01, elev. 3240. Total up/down: +3350/-5437. 

Dear Trail Friends,

More and more of the hikers I meet plan to leave the trail at Stevens Pass. Today I met a young man from Korea (trail name JJ for James Joyce-- he studied English literature in college. He was surprised I'd heard of James Joyce; he had met so many Americans who had not heard of him. So I told him about my high school English teacher, a former nun and still my friend and whom I will see in Oklahoma City when I go there in September for my 50th high school reunion, who suggested I read Ulysses when I was a senior. I even told him a couple quotes I still remember -- oh if I only could remember my recent or even long ago experience so clearly: "Nothing is more loathsome than the self-loathing of a self one loathes" and "A sentimentalist is he who will not acknowledge the indebtedness incurred by a thing done. "). Anyway JJ plans to leave the trail at Stevens Pass, head for San Francisco, and from there home to Korea. He said "the destination is not so important. "

My gear seems to know the end is near. One of my water bags disappeared. "It flew away" said JJ who I met at my second water stop of the day. Today my bandana (new just a couple weeks ago in Bend Oregon) began to disintegrate, with a big tear down the middle ( that I repaired with big clumsy stitches. ) the zipper to my tent has begun to open after being zipped. One of my backpack pitches tore loose and I have jerry-rigged it (sp?) with gorilla tape. The gear seems to be saying "we're done."

This is truly a beautiful section to end with. Challenging too. You might notice the up/down numbers are bigger for this section than previous sections. I am much slower here because of steep ups and downs and lots of rough rocky trails, so a 14 mile day took me from 6 am to almost 6 pm with only 3 rests and two of them fairly brief. I probably walked at least 9 hours, which probably would have been good for 18 miles in Oregon. 

Photo 1: so I got out of my tent and stood up to begin taking it down and this is what I saw. The day began with a definite "Oh my god" experience. How can anything be so beautiful? What a way to begin a day. 

Photo 2: I took this to show you the smoke in the distance. I smelled smoke in my tent, and the early morning hike was pretty smoky. Fortunately by mid-morning the wind had shifted. I am very aware of the fires. People tell me three fire fighters have died. I think of their friends and family, how many people's lives are torn open by each death. I am relieved to have made my decision. 

Photo 3:  this trail is gorgeous. 

Photo 4. Gorgeous. Love the turrets and spires. Like fairy tale castles. 

Photo 5. Ditto. Just lovely. 

To be continued in Day 58, Part 2. 

Riv's 2015 PCT, Day 56, August 20

Day 56, Thursday, August 20

Rest/"Zero" Day at Summit Inn, Snoqualmie Pass

Dear Trail Friends,

It is all settled. I will end my hike for this year at Stevens Pass. We have even made reservations for the ferry for next Wednesday, August 26 (Day 62), which will be the last day of this year's hike. I am bowing to the reality of the multiple uncontrolled fires, the trail closures, the uncertain detours (two proposed detours have had to be closed due to the fires), the risk involved in hiking near uncontrolled fires both to me and in potentially causing more work for emergency workers if I had to be evacuated, the dangers of breathing smoke.  

Although I hope and intend to return to hike the final 200 mile segment ( my hike will end at PCT mile 2461.62, so I will have hiked 845 miles from my starting point at Burney Falls in June), I am aware of a deep sadness and anxiety as if this whole era of hiking the PCT were coming to an end. I am aware that my body has never been as muscular and strong and that this wonderful feeling of such a strong, vital body will gradually fade away as I stop walking 15-20 miles a day. 

I had lunch with Barbara and we talked about the bitter sweetness of approaching the end of the hike, and also what would be most vital for us in our lives after the trail. For both of us, hiking the PCT has been a focus of passion and attention since we retired. She spoke of older women poets in Alabama (the state where she lives) who modeled writing poetry, giving readings, and offering poetry workshops well into their nineties. That is what she sees in her own future. I spoke of my Freud writing project and the commitment to present again this year in Philadelphia, and I hope subsequent years, at the IFPE (International Forum for Psychoanalytic Education) conference. 

We were sitting on stools along a bar looking out the window at a patio area where her dog and hiking partner Angel was tethered. It was fascinating to watch Angel engage most of the people who passed: with some rolling over and letting them rub her belly, with others quietly wagging her tail. We talked about how important dogs are to people and all we learn from them. Barbara spoke of how she could not do this hike without Angel. It was interesting how few people ignored Angel's presence (one young woman absorbed in her iPhone seemed not to notice Angel; this led to Barbara's observation of a distinct change in her undergrad students over the last decade: they used to talk with and engage one another; now they are each in their own world, hunched over their smartphone. )

Photo 1. Angel as seen from the restaurant window and a man who has kneeled down to interact with her. 

Photo 2: Barbara and Angel outside of the restaurant, mountain in background. 

This all reminded me of hiking yesterday and passing two women day hikers with two dogs zestfully romping off leash. Later in the day they came back, calling, looking frantic. One of the dogs had gotten lost. This led to memories of my first (first in my adult life) dog, Molly, and how I loved to let her off leash hiking Moran Park on Orcas until one day she dashed off after a deer and disappeared.  I was terrified she would race across a street and get hit by a car, or get injured in the woods somewhere and I would never find her. After that day, I kept her on a leash in the woods most of the time. 

I remembered how when we first adopted Sappho, our first Samoyed, and Sappho wandered off into the woods, I sent Molly to look for her and bring her back. And she did. Then I remembered one day when Molly had run off and I sent Sappho to look for her.  That day my neighbor Barbara found me at the market in town and could barely tell me her news: Sappho had been hit by a car, Barbara had brought her into town to the vet, but it was too late. Sappho was dead. 

I remember lifting her beautiful silky white body into my car and driving home. I remember that I could feel and sense her spirit talking to me, admonishing me not to grieve, not to look back. It would not be honoring her, she said. She had never looked back, but always run forward to meet the next exciting and wonderful dog, person, moment. If I wanted to honor her, I would do the same. Sappho taught me a lot about looking for the next wave to ride, rather than trying to ride the vanished wave I have already fallen off. 

After Sappho died -- and when Molly was very soon going to die -- we adopted Nikki. We went to a breeder on Vancouver Island, we took her for a walk, and Chris turned to me and said very shyly "I think I like her. "

On the car ride home, Nikki seemed to shake her head and force her eyes open every time she started to fall asleep. (Nikki had been abused in her first home and come back to the breeder for emotional rehab, she was in that sense a rescue dog. ) I got in the back seat with her and closed my eyes. I guess I thought that if I showed I trusted her and could be vulnerable with her, maybe she would be able to trust me. And she did finally fall asleep. She didn't pee, either, for quite awhile. She must have been very scared to be leaving --again--the only safe home she had known. I sang goodnight songs to her every night for the first week or two she was with is. In time Nikki became a very trusting and happy dog. But there was always a tenderness and delicacy you could see especially in her eyes. And she always was easily startled. 

When Misty came to live with us, she suffered terribly from the separation from her sister and kennel mate. (The breeder reported that her sister also cried all night the first week). I sang goodnight songs to Misty too. 

Later, as they were with us longer, I made up special goodnight songs just for them. Good night songs became pleasure and play rather than comfort because of loss and fear. They were two happy dogs. They loved greeting my clients and our neighbors. They spread their happiness to others. They were very good at loving life and living whoever and whatever came their way. 

When Misty died, as most of you know, her choice to die outside led me to sleep beside her that final night under the stars. Listening to the wind high up in the trees, smelling the fir needles, feeling the magnetism of the ground beneath me, being with Misty and singing her lullabies to ease the transition -- that night definitely was part of what called me to the PCT. Misty too taught me a lot about looking forward, watching for the next wave might ride. 

Seeing me dote on Angel, Barbara thinks maybe I need another dog. And maybe I do. Or maybe as my ride on the great great wave of the trail itself that I have had the joy and privilege of riding since my retirement approaches its end, I need to be reminded of the many things my dog loves have taught me. I need to look forward, watch the incoming waves, be curious which one I will jump up on and try to get my balance and ride. 

Tomorrow morning I may start my hike. Or if it is raining I may delay until afternoon. I will take this section slower in part because there is a lot of very steep up and down.  And in part because I want to go more slowly and kiss the trail goodbye with a soft, lingering, fully conscious kiss. To say goodbye. To savor the sweet sadness of parting. 

Goodbye for now. 

Riv's 2015 PCT, Day 55, August 19

Day 55, Wednesday, August 19. 

From campsite at PCT mile 2374.45, elev. 3782, walked 16.24 miles  (plus .3 miles on road) to Summit Inn at Snoqualmie Pass  (.3 miles from PCT mile 2390.69, elev. 2998). 

Dear Trail Friends,

Although I had intended (again) to make this a short day and to camp somewhere just a few miles before Snoqualmie Pass, I changed my mind when -- despite being a gorgeous campsite with great logs to sit on, flat areas for my tent, a stream nearby and cell coverage, I found that the cell coverage was not good enough to download the emails with the travel information I wanted to research. 

Chrissy and I had discussed the possibility of my coming home early (the fire continues to spread and be out of control--the second proposed detour which involved over 100 miles of hitching rides on walking along highways has now also been closed due to fire, like the trail itself and the first proposed detour.  I find some of the hikers are talking about stopping at Stevens Pass, and possibly returning next year to hike the missing piece.) and driving to Santa Barbara with her. It sounds like it would be fine with Peter (who offered to drive with her when I was unavailable). 

So now the tricky part is seeing if I can change my reservations for Seattle to Oklahoma City to reservations from LA to OKC, without losing a ton of money in penalties and perhaps more expensive flights. As it turns out, there's something gone haywire with DSL and wireless on Orcas and my email provider appears to be down, so even here at Summit Inn, with five bars of coverage and wifi, I can't download the emails that contain flight info. I don't even remember what airlines I used. 

Now it is Thursday, my zero day, and I didn't realize til I was eating breakfast that I never finished this blog. Guess I was more tired than I knew. Anyway, I woke up this morning and Orcas email was working again. I've made a reservation ( and am in hold with United by telephone to get the new reservation la to Denver compiled with the old Denver to OKC, also to see if there's any refund on the old Sea to Denver after paying cancellation fee). Don't you hate all these details? I'd rather be walking in the woods. 

And yet. Yesterday evening as I left a perfectly lovely camp in the woods I realized that I felt pulled back to my civilized everyday life. That I was almost bored with the natural beauty. Maybe it's my way of coming to terms with the inevitable (fire closures making the hike to Canada essentially not do-able). 

I know that meeting a hiker (Freedom Train) whom hadn't seen since just when I began in N California, who said hikers were asking about me, influenced me. It's nice to feel wanted. And at breakfast I ran into Barbara, the retired English professor hiking with her dog Angel, who I also encountered in N California and with whom I had thoroughly enjoyed dinner at Callahans (near Ashland OR). Freedom Train had decided to hike south from Stevens Pass instead of taking the detours -- later I learned from Barbara he was following a girl he had met who was heading southbound! Nevertheless, seeing him (who began at Campo at the Mexico border this year and so had a special investment in finishing in one year) cheerfully turning around helped me to relinquish my attachment to making it to Canada this year. 

I was, as it turned out, delighted with my decision to hike down to Snoqualmie Pass. As I hiked the last little climb I noticed I was depressed (bored with the beauty maybe) and then a little bird started hopping along the path in front of me. It brought a vivid flashback of a moment with Chris on the Camino when a quail walked in front of us, just as if it were another pilgrim. I even made a video of it. This little bird seemed to go forward on the trail -- hop, hop, hop -- then pause, look over her shoulder and wait for me to catch up, and then go forward--hop, hop, hop-- again. This continued for quite awhile until I could hear other hikers approaching and at that point she took flight. As the hikers came around the corner I saw a radiant smile on the first hiker (a woman). "You sure look happy" I said. "You look happy too" she said. And I realized it was true. That little bird hop hop hopping led me back to the trail and the present moment. From there on I enjoyed the hike down, especially the excitement of looking at the mountains ( for the moment clear and smoke free) I will probably be climbing into on Friday, and looking down at the highway, the cars and trucks,  sounds of traffic, buildings, the ski lift I hiked under -- a sense of excitement: what will this new trail town be like? How will I find my way to the hotel?

Photo 1:  the mountains ahead --clear, no smoke. A sense of great excitement both hiking down into town and seeing the mountains ahead. Let's use these beautiful mountains as Bonnie's wave of the day. Shall we all saddle up and ride one of these mountains, as a metaphor for the new day and whatever dreams and prayers we hold most holy today, and for Bonnie and her health and happiness as she rides the wave of living with lung cancer. 

When I got to town, after taking out my guidebook notes and figuring out which way to turn, I made my way to the Chevron gas station and convenience store and a little restaurant in a trailer in the same parking lot, called the Aardvark, where hikers seemed to be hanging out. From there I went to the Summiy Inn next door where I found a room was available and I showered and started my laundry. 

Then I went back to the Aardvark, which alas had closed at 8. (It was now 8:20). But the kind owner Dan made me dinner anyway, a delicious chicken curry with lots of fresh crunchy cabbage and cilantro. Turns out Dan was an "army brat" and grew up all over the world, becoming fascinated with world cuisines. He spent 10 years in college-majoring in business, then political science, then journalism -- and most recently managed the ski lift here, before opening the Aardvark. 

Photo 2. Dan's (owner/chef of the Aardvark's) collection of different hot sauces from around the world. Look closely -- no two (well, maybe two...) are alike!!

Photo 3. Working our way backwards through my day, I knew you would be fascinated to hear about what it is like when "nature calls" via the rectum and there simply are no nice level areas with little underbrush. Here I left my pack on trail and bushwhacked my rather steep way ( the photo doesn't capture the incline) down my requisite 20 steps (my substitute for what they say it should be: 200 ft from trail, which would be almost 70 yards or 70 steps!). Once again I dig my cathole broad to make up for the fact that I simply could not dig deep (dense thick roots) so I would still have enough dirt to fully cover up my poop. I knew you'd be fascinated by this! We were laughing at breakfast about how natural it is on the trail to discuss stuff like poop. hiker Toto from Kansas (who hiked the Appalachian trail last year and will probably skip a year before hiking the Continental Trail to become a "triple crowner") said his wife has to keep reminding him "you're not on the trail anymore." (As in, sniff, sniff - did you take a shower today? )

Photo 4. I was listening to some poignant horn and cello music (yo yo Mann collaborating with other musicians to play Ennio Morricone I think film scores -- I don't know who he is being a popular culture illiterate but maybe you do...) as I came upon these former wildflowers gone to seed. At once I had a feeling that went perfectly with the music that fall had arrived on the mountain and in my life. That just as these flowers are releasing their seeds to the wind, so I am learning to let go and release the things in my life. 

Photo 5:  continuing to work backwards, early in the day, resting in "inverted posture" -- so admiring the majesty of the trees. I feel so close to these trees. I am learning, especially when I have a relatively steep slope to my head ( which is great for my brain to be below my heart and lungs to get all that "free" circulation of blood and oxygen via gravity, but logistically hard to maneuver myself into position), I can snuggle in sideways close up to trunk, then turn and clasp the tree tight between my thighs (like riding a horse) as I carefully lower back and head to the earth. I love the magnetic feeling of the earth under my back and the looking up through the trees into the sky. The geometry and motion of branches is so different looking straight up. And that moment of clasping the tree has a definite sense of erotic intimacy, a physical feeling of closeness to the soul of the tree. Which I love and which had me reflecting ongoing on how it is to be a tree, so tall and strong and rooted in one place for an entire life, ones only motion the swinging (sometimes churning) of branches in the wind and the swaying of the trunk. At one point I was listening to Bbethoven, some pretty complex motion in the music, and the many many diverse movements of branches in wind seemed to dance perfectly to the music. 

Photo 6:  still going backwards -- the beautiful world around me in the early dawn light. A new day. 

 

That's all for now. Happy trails.