Please Beat The Children

Day 46

PCT Mile Marker 1540.58 – 1562.36

Miles Hiked 21.78

The rock slides were orange now. Gritty giant boulders.  

An old hollow tree trunk filled up with rain water a long time ago, and a whole ecosystem was living in there.

In the woods, tall alien flowers, their crowns looking like comets, all just as tall as my head. They were way taller than anything else. A million lemon pie alien comets. The air so thick and rich. I lifted my arms and let the flowers sweep my armpits. A little natural deodorant.

Unknown birds trilling away, telling each other stories. Or maybe telling what they needed from the store.

Quail bob-bob-bobbing down the path, or bursting into flight as I walked past. Scaring the crap out of me.

So many springs today, water dripping in fine lines directly from the earth. Nothing more refreshing than perfectly clean, cold water.

My attitude, it seemed, had been adjusted.

An enormous husk of a tree. Gray from being washed by the sun. Twisted around and around like a candy cane.

And then I was at a road. And there were two tour busses there. And there were nine-million children. With backpacks and camping gear in huge mounds. I stopped a lady and asked what was happening.

Camp. She said. They hike seven miles to the lake and stay there for two weeks. They’re just about to leave.

Me: They’re going to be ON the trail?

Lady: Yes. The PCT leads right to the camp.

My heart started pounding. I was on a narrow, windy path, and I was about to have a hundred kids behind me.  

Nightmare of nightmares.

I was going to have to outrun them. Up this steep, giant hill.

I hopped to it. Straining with everything I had. I could hear them coming. My breath was ragged.

I Must Beat The Children.

A few years ago, I’d entered a beginner mountain bike race. An eleven year old with a bike that was too big for him swept past me. After a while, I passed him, and was feeling pretty proud of myself. Yes, for beating an eleven-year-old. But then he passed me again, and by the time I crossed the finish line I was in last place. By, like, twenty minutes.

Apparently I was still sore about getting my ass handed to me by a little kid.

I still heard them coming up the trail, but I was doing pretty good. Their voices weren’t getting any closer. 

Push-push-push-push

Please Beat The Children.

I made it to the tippy-top of the mountain. Only one more mile to camp.

I looked up and saw the children. Hoards of them. And they were walking on a road. That paralleled the PCT.

They were never even on my trail. They passed by me and I hobbled into camp and had a good chuckle at my own expense.

I did beat the children.

Just because they weren’t on the same trail didn’t seem to matter at all.

I got there first.

Another twenty-plus mile day in the bag.