The Climb

Day 53

PCT Mile Marker 1653.42 – 1668.24

Miles Hiked 14.82

I don’t think you could call what I did “sleep”. I’d pitched my tent in what I thought was a far corner. Far away from Other People. But a light came on in the store that was really bright and shined right on my tent all night. And apparently there is no speed limit at night, so big rigs and cars zoomed down the street at fifty miles an hour…about 25 feet from me. Their headlights shining on me every time.

I put in earplugs and pulled my down hat over my eyes.

Then there was the helicopter that wouldn’t seem to go away. Looking for The Robber?

Then someone who lived at the RV Park got up to go to work. Started his Diesel Engine at 3:45 and let it warm up for about five minutes. His headlights flooded the entire camping area the entire time. I was certain all of us were awake then. I bet he does that every morning. Probably thinks it’s funny.

Not funny, dude. Not even a tiny tiny.

People were loaded up and hiking out at 4:30. Click-clack-click-clack went their poles on the asphalt road.

Why could I hear that? My earplugs weren’t in my ears anymore! Where were they? I felt around for a long time and couldn’t find them. I didn’t want to turn on my headlamp. That would wake me up even more.

Rustle, rustle, rustle said everyone’s ziplock bags. You don’t realize how loud ziplock bags are until people fumble around with them in the early hours of the morning.

But hikers have everything in ziplock bags. They are a staple of the trail. That’s how we Organize All Our Items. 

I got up. Hummingbirds zoomed around my head, back and forth to the feeder I’d camped under. That made me smile. I packed up and was on the road walk at 6:15. Way too late. The climb ahead was difficult and hot and I was a slobbering, exhausted, sleep deprived Zombie Woman.

Acres of blackberry brambles and wild peas. Contaminated with exhaust and road grime. The berries small and sour-looking.

I got to the trail. The climb was about five thousand feet in about ten miles. Really, really steep with no real break in the grade. I stopped a lot but couldn’t put down my pack or sit anywhere because of the poison oak that lined the trail. I’d pause and lean on my poles. Try to stretch out my legs and give them recovery time even while standing. I was wearing my leggings as protection from the poison oak, and they were hot. I was sweating up a storm. I stopped at a piped spring. The water dribbled lazily and it took forever to fill up one little bottle. But there was a cleared spot to set my pack and sit down. I drank two bottles of water and loaded it up another time to take with me. I took a salt pill.

Up, up, up, up.

The trees were ragged and dead and droopy. The underbrush was grey and unhappy. Even the poison oak was dappled with red. Unhealthy-lookin’. Such an ugly place. So different than the gorgeousness of the day before.

When I finally started getting high enough that I didn’t see poison oak anymore, I took off my leggings. I felt a little better.

Up higher, stands of sad trees stood dead, their ghosts looking out over the the landscape. They had simply looked around and lost their will to live.

I shuffled through the dirt. Red ground coffee. Then some downhill. I turned my ankle. I turned it again on the rocky path.

I got to the bottom. The path was going straight back up again.

I just couldn’t do it. No more for the day.

I set up my tent near a dirt road and called it a day. Took some Vitamin I and inspected my ankles, they were both a little purple.

As the evening wore on, nine more hikers set up tents. Everyone was beat.

It was the hardest continuous climb I’d ever done.

But I did it.

And I was proud.