Pinup Girls and Tree Huggers

Day 39

PCT Mile Marker 1455.64 – 1470.98

Miles Hiked 15.34

The trail clung to the side of a cliff.

Appreciate…1…2…3… Walk.

The views were more than I could bear. They were so beautiful, it was impossible to take it all in. I could’ve stared for hours and never looked at the same thing twice.

And about the time I really didn’t want to be on a cliff anymore, the trail found its way back into the woods.

My feet hurt.  

Stupid shoes. I said. I loved you. I bragged about you to everyone. I said you were the best. Where is the rock guard you told me you had? Where is the amazing grip? Why is your tread wearing off so soon? You lied to me and now I may as well be barefoot. I feel every rock in the ball of my foot, and it hurts so much.

‘You bought my story hook-line-and-sinker, and then you bought me,’ they said. ‘It is what it is’.

The path was soft and curvy. A pinup girl.

A massive tree showed up, and I was so impressed by it, I pushed my arms out onto its sides. I couldn’t even reach 1/5 of the way around. I lay my face against the old bark and noticed that the bark was smooth. Just at face level.

I bet every hiker hugs that tree.

Bunch of tree huggers.

Me: My feet hurt.

Tree: Your feet hurt because you are alive and doing an amazing and privileged thing.

Me: But I hate my shoes.

Tree: Be grateful you have shoes at all. So many others don’t.

Me: But I am lonely.

Tree: Oh sweet child, you chose this path. Embrace every part of it. You have so much to go home to when this is over.

Me: You’re right. Thank you.

Tree: You hikers all say the same thing to me, you know.

Me: Yeah, I figured.

I sat down and ate peanut butter until I felt sick. And somehow that made me feel better.

A rattlesnake gave me a good, loud warning and I went from a forward motion to a backward one with shocking agility. I was lucky I didn’t fall off the trail. He took his sweet time moving out of the way. He didn’t look angry, just wary. I gave him a good, long time to move on before I did too.

I sat at the river, scrub-scrub-scrubbing possible poison oak from my body. I was just moving again when a fisherman offered me fruit salad and a beer.  

I put my pack down and sat on a rock, all happy and grateful with shiny clean skin.

Then Mitch walked by. MITCH! Guess he didn’t die on Super Sketchy McSketcherson after all. Mr. Nice Fisherman guy gave Mitch a beer too and then took off.

A relatively creepy guy was sitting on a rock behind me listening to us talk, when he piped up.

“There’s lots of mountain lions up there. Mountain lions attack women and children. Yep. Always looking to drag one off. Happens all the time.”

I said, “Thanks. Statistically you’re actually incorrect, though.”

He asked, “Are you alone?” And shook his head, as though certain I would be brutally murdered and eaten. 

 Probably tonight.

I wanted to say, are you asking because I am a woman? Why aren’t you asking Mitch if he’s alone? Because mountain lions don’t eat men? I am a badass. I am not vulnerable. No cat would want to chew this old piece of gristle anyway.

That is the fifth time on this trip I have been told that it’s unbelievable I’m doing this ALONE. A WOMAN doing something ALONE is BRAVE and SCARY.  

But maybe he wasn’t being sexist. Maybe he just truly believed mountain lions are on the hunt for women at all times.

I walked with Mitch for a few miles more before we camped.  

A few miles into the wilderness.

A few more miles away from people.

People are the scary ones.