A Vertical Mile

Those who know me best know I'm not that interested in kids of my own. I enjoy working with them and making their lives better any way I can, but I don't want any of them to be mine. The day spent at the Whitewater preserve campground reinforced this thought when I was repeatedly awoken by the sound of crying, misbehaving, sarcastically laughing, stick-fighting, whining, screaming little bastards 20 yards from our tents. Sleep was intermittent, but the body was able to rest while the mind fantasized about a world where kids respected rules and sleeping hikers. Like many campgrounds, this site was hiker friendly and we were allowed to set up and rest for free. Again, so amazed by the hospitality offered to us as we hike! The camp is built in a mostly dried up river bed, at the site of an old trout farm, and it felt like walking into a mirage with flowing water and palm trees.

We rested until 4 or 5 and took off as the sun was setting. We passed a dead cow which didn't inspire confidence but we plowed on.

We were joined by Gabe (who never corrected me when I called him Dane over and over again..). He had hiked in that morning and rested a bit before leaving with us. The weather again was perfect and as the moon lit the white sand path we walked into another gorgeous night. We took breaks and climbed most of the way out of a canyon and stopped to rest on top of a ridge. We could see Palm Springs in the distance and I was suddenly very aware that no one could see me, no one in Palm Springs was looking into the mountains imagining humans on the ridges in the darkness...it was an odd thought but it made me feel unique and adventurous, like a pioneer; I felt like I was doing something very few people would get the chance to do and I felt incredibly lucky and generally overwhelmed. I was happy no one could see me well up with tears!

(i have great photos! But they're on my real camera, uploaded soon!)

At this point we had gone 6 miles and Gabe was tired and ready to set up camp, and Saina was on the same page. This is when I learned a big lesson. Having mostly hiked on my own this far there had never been any real limits or confinement to the number of miles I hiked, and now I was faced with having hiked 6 miles after a full day of rest, and I either would night hike on my own (not very safe) or call it a day and camp with them. I had assumed we were all in the same page and wanting to do at least 12-15 miles after a full day of rest, but the problem was that I had assumed that and not voiced it, and now it seemed apparent we all had different, valid thoughts on that. I saw another group hiking up the canyon in the distance with their headlamps and told Saina and Gabe I would wait and maybe tag along with them. After some discussion Saina and Gave decided to hike a few more miles and we hiked 2 more miles down to our next water, down by a river, and called it a night at 8 miles.

The next morning, with no hard feelings but a nagging sadness I was losing my hiking buddy I set off to get some miles under my belt. We hugged goodbye and off I went, very well rested and determined to get a little closer to Canada.

I was lucky that the slightly uphill grade was ideal for me and for about 10 miles I was cruisin! I flew past other hikers, I was in my groove.  After so many waterless miles of arid desert/mountains it was refreshing to be following a ribbon of green along the banks of a creek for most of the day. Its such a pure representation of what we're all learning: Water = life.

At the peak of the heat of the day I came to a trickle of a creek and nestled my Sawyer water filter amongst the odd little pine-needle-looking wiggly worms and slowly filled my bottles.

I was joined in the shade by a group of very friendly and good-spirited older hikers from Tasmania and Australia. It was a great break before another...you guessed it...intense climb. The weather started to change and heavy clouds started rolling in as I trudged up what felt like near-vertical canyon walls. The higher I went, the more exhausted I got, and the more aware of my proximity to potential lightning I was becoming... (I should add that lightning is my biggest fear on the trail and I have kept a keen eye on the weather to try everything I can to avoid it. But the problem with mountains is that the weather changes rapidly, without warning, and when you're on a ridge you just have to deal with it.) I pushed onward, knowing I was getting higher up but growing confident the weather was not going to develop into a storm.

Sure enough the weather cleared and soon I was back climbing in the sun, stopping to admire flowers, knotty wooden stumps and the cutest thing I've seen on trail: a chair carved by chainsaw by one of the trail work crews. Amazing :)

From mile 226 to mile 239.9 I had hiked nearly 14 miles while gaining just over 5,000 feet (you know, like a VERTICAL MILE), and I called it a day. I crawled into my sleeping bag at 5pm and slept until 9am the following morning. What a day that had been!