PCT Mile 71.7
If rocks didn’t weigh so much, I’d have twelve of them in my pocket already, Anji said. Look how pretty they are!
She moved down the trail with a long, smooth gait. Confident and in control. I liked following behind her. She sees everything and stops to take photos of all sorts of neat things. Cacti, and ice swirls in the sand, and rocks that strike her fancy. I just watch my feet to make sure I don’t crack a toe again when some rock leaps out to attack me. I get to stop and see neat stuff when Anji finds it for me. We are a good team.
Our trail angel, Keith, came to pick us up again this morning. Our double-trail-angel. He took us to some outlooks so we could check out the views, but we moved on to Sunrise Trailhead which took us back to a relatively snowless PCT. When we did come across snow, we mostly glided across the top, but periodically we would punch through up to mi-calf. Just enough for the snow to pull up on my toenail and take my breath away. Making me whimper. And cuss.
The trail went down gradually, around here and over there in a pattern we didn’t expect.
Yucca plants, we supposed, lifted their dead arm to the sky, alien seed pods open and ready to communicate with the another world. Shrubs waist high and snow-capped mountains beyond. Anji wore her microspikes to get through one section, but I couldn’t stand the pain and pressure from putting them on, so I just walked very carefully in my trail runners. I felt all proud of myself for not falling on my ass.
An old rusty sign before the water well was the only good part about it. It may have been good water but we’ll never know. It looked horrifying. A concrete box with a plastic tube sticking out of a square hole. A spigot turny-handle inside. Super duper sketch-ville.
We ate peanut butter and rice cakes and looked over the valley for lunch-time.
We wound our way around until we finally found a suitable campsite…as long as it didn’t rain. It was in a wash, but was relatively flat and we were tired. We checked the weather. Windy but no rain. Score. Done.
I took off my socks and was dismayed at the condition of my feet. Anji, I said, I think my toe is infected. Yeah, she said, you need antibiotics. And steroids for your arm. I looked at it, all weepy and blistery and like I was turning into an alligator.
We tried to soak my toes, clean them up a bit, and poke holes in them again with a red hot needle from over the stove, but hardly any fluid came out.
I’m looking forward to getting some medical attention tomorrow.
We’re hitching into Ramona for help.