Day 55
PCT Mile Marker 1693.58 – 1716.19
Miles Hiked 22.16
Hikers: “You don’t need that ice ax. You should sent it home.”
Me: “Oh, I think it’s very fashionable. I think everyone will be carrying them in the future.”
Hikers: “…”
My favorite is leaving camp just when everyone else is getting up. I really like starting to hike at 5:15 in the morning. I like the alone time, which is weird since I’ve felt so lonely in the not-so-distant-past. I love the way the sun plops a dropper of light onto the tops of Shasta and then other mountains, and it runs down the mountains, painting them this color and that.
The sun poked his long, spiny fingers into the forests, stabbing holes where the night liked to linger. Behind those trees and rocks where it thinks it can hide all day.
The fog was so thick way down below that tall mountains became islands. Or maybe bison running in a field of fluffy white dandelions.
I could hear cowbells for hours, but never actually saw the beasts that wore them. A noise separate from the silent forest or the loud city. A nice in-between. A remembrance of sound without overwhelming me.
An observatory up above on the tippy-tippy top of a mountain. Glowing an abnormal white in the afternoon sun. And then another cooler! Trail Magic!!!
This one was Creme Soda and Grapefruit Soda and folding chairs to sit in. Folding chairs! Furniture! So exciting!
I signed the trail magic register and sat quite happily, eating my lunch and sharing the joy of trail magic with my Swedish hiking buddies. They said they’d give me their blog, but admitted I wouldn’t be able to read it without a translator. So it was a nice thought…
Right after my hiker friends left, the trail angel who managed this trail magic showed up with cases of more soda. I helped him carry some stuff and gave him a big hug. His name was The Inquisitor because he had so many questions for hikers. He is running the 50 mile marathon tomorrow and was happy to hear that the S.O.B. Group also did beer trail magic for us yesterday. He was wonderful, and I had my picture taken with him by some day hikers.
I spent a good amount of time plowing through fields of flowers as tall as my face. And then the forest shadows, cool and dark, came along with some scissors and cut the fingers right off the sunlight. And it was dark and spooky in the forest and my ankles hurt.
I slipped and fell going downhill as evening came on. Thump! Said my right hip as it hit the ground. I sat there for a while feeling sorry for myself, then got up, dusted myself off, and kept hiking.
I reached the road but it didn’t look like hitching was a great prospect at that particular location.
I hiked another mile down the road and under the freeway. I tried to hitch for about twenty minutes, looking for a ride into Ashland. I was so hungry. I could smell cooked food drifting from nearby. A place called Callahan’s Lodge. Famously PCT friendly place.
I finally gave up on the hitch and went where my nose led me. They sold many different hiker packages at Callahan’s. Showers, camping, rooms, laundry…they accept resupply packages, serve food…
I just paid for a flat place to pitch my tent. Laundry and showering seemed like too much work. They had a gluten-free menu, so I had an amazing burger with amazing fries and an amazing free beer.
My hip was fine and my ‘Vitamin-I’ ibuprofen helped my poor purple ankles, and even though a little artificial light was shining on my tent, my day was complete and I was safe and my belly was full and the world was full of happiness.
I went to sleep planning what I wanted to eat for breakfast.