Mile 183.5 to mile 190.5 + Deer Springs Trail (3.5 miles)
10.5 miles

Lynn, Cate, and Mike all get up and leave very early. I’m taking the shuttle with Caddy and Hobo from the inn where they’re staying to the Deer Spring trailhead, and it only leaves at 8:30, so I’ve got time. It would be nice to be starting earlier, but it’s just as nice to get a free ride and I’m excited about hiking with new friends. Once Lynn, Cate, and Mike leave I have the room all to myself and I make the most of it, walking around naked, doing last minute chores, and eating breakfast in my underwear. Finally it’s 8am and I am dressed, packed up, and ready to hit the trail again. I’m excited and nervous.

I walk the 3 minutes over to the inn and find Caddy and Hobo waiting. Claire is there too, and I’m glad I get to say goodbye to her. I am so grateful for her friendship and wise words; I hope I see her again soon.

The “shuttle” turns out to be the inn owner driving a few of us in his truck; it’s the three of us plus a Swiss couple. There’s a miscommunication and he thinks we all want to go to Devil’s Slide trailhead, the one Mike, Lynn, and Cate went to this morning. We drive all the way there before realizing the mixup and drop the Swiss couple before heading back down to our actual destination, Deer Spring trailhead. The drive was long and steep and I think of my three friends walking all the way there at 6am this morning; I am not jealous at all and am very confident I made the right decision for me.

We finally reach Deer Spring trailhead and we all unload our things from the truck. And then there we are! The trail is 3 miles of up up up to connect back with the PCT. I am ready to be back on the trail, on my trail – I think. I hope my body agrees.

We’re at higher elevation than Idyllwild the town is, and we immediately see snow on the trees and on the trail. I’m charmed. Snow! It’s so beautiful.

We begin hiking together and at first I think I’ll be able to keep up. We walk in a line, first Hobo, then Caddy, then me. We get to know each other – they ask why I decided to hike the PCT, I ask why they did. They met each other a few years ago hiking the AT and I am so impressed by them. They are both retired and have already hiked a long trail! And now they’re doing another one! They have such a lovely camaraderie, are clearly such good friends, and I feel honored that they have welcomed me into their group, at least for today. We pass under a thick shadow of pines and Caddy breathes in deeply, appreciatively. “Mmmm, Christmas tree!” she says happily. A moment later the smell hits me too and she’s right – I’m immediately thinking of Christmas, December, the first time I harvested my own tree in Southern Oregon. So many things have happened since that December – it was two and a half years ago. I feel happy with the trajectory of my life, happy to be on this Christmas tree forest trail with two new friends.

It turns out I can’t actually keep up with Caddy and Hobo, though. I stop often to take pictures and also this trail is hard! Up up up up. I give up on the idea of keeping up with them and just try to breath. I remember Claire’s advice; it would be nice to do Fuller Ridge, which I have built up to be totally scary and horrifying in my mind, with friends, but if I have to do it alone so be it. Aren’t we all always alone in the end anyway? Morbid but true!

So I plod on. I lose the trail a few times because of patches of snow, but it’s not bad. My microspikes are tucked in the front pocket of my pack, waiting for the moment I’ll need them, but so far so good. Every so often a clump of snow falls from a tree, sometimes landing on the trail but often landing on my head. I imagine mischievous fairies hiding in the trees, pelting hikers with snowballs, laughing about it amongst themselves. When I think of it like that I’m not even mad, just delighted. I’m walking through a magical snowy forest! I’m making my way back to the PCT, back to the place I currently live. It’s an adventure! An adventure that renders me out of breath, sure, but an adventure nonetheless.

Finally after three miles of snowy steep trail I see a little wooden sign: Strawberry Junction! That’s where Deer Spring connects to the PCT. And just after the sign I see two bodies lying on mats – it’s Caddy and Hobo! They waited for me! I’m touched, and feel emotional.

They hear me approaching and roll over to greet me. “I can’t believe you waited!” I say. “Of course!” says Caddy. “We haven’t been here long. And we don’t want anyone to do Fuller Ridge alone. If we didn’t see you here we were going to wait for you at the Fuller Ridge junction.” It’s so generous and kind; I try not to cry. I love these women, I decide. I am always like this: I decide who I love and who I can trust quickly and surely, and then that’s that. Usually I’m right.

I sit down to take a breather; I don’t want to keep them waiting though. Caddy brushes away my fears, assures me that it’s fine. We talk about food, snacking, how heavy it all is to carry. I admit I haven’t had much of an appetite, am still carrying some food I started with at Campo, more than 100 miles back. They are appalled. “What the fuck, Scissors!” Hobo exclaims. “You can’t do that! You’ve gotta eat your food!” Caddy nods. Okay okay okay! I will do better about eating, I promise them. I know they’re right – I stuff my hip belt pockets with bars and Justin’s hazelnut chocolate butter packets, the one snack I can always seem to choke down no matter what, and resolve to do a better job of putting calories into my body.

We’re all expecting to see Cate, Lynn, and Mike at some point, but we don’t see them at Strawberry Junction. Maybe they’re taking a long time in the snow. Maybe they decided to summit Mt. San Jacinto. We don’t know; we decide to keep going.

We stop for lunch and I shovel food into my mouth as quickly as I can. It’s cold when we’re not moving and I feel anxious about the time; I don’t know how snowy Fuller Ridge will be but I don’t want to be traversing it in the dark. While we’re eating some other hikers pass us – two are the girls I saw on the first day, the ones who were so much faster than me I assumed I would never see them again! “What are you doing here?!” I ask, shocked. They say they’ve had foot trouble and sun rash. Well. I guess there’s no predicting who will be where on the trail. I should let go of my concern about that – we’re all just plodding along. We ask if they’ve seen Lynn, Cate, and Mike and it sounds like they have. I wonder where they are, what’s taking them so long.

After lunch I manage to keep us with Caddy and Hobo, and soon enough we’re at the junction that indicates we are about to traverse Fuller Ridge. There is some snow on the ground and as I bring up the rear I suddenly slip, hitting my knee against a fallen log and ripping the leggings I’m wearing where I land. “OW!” I exclaim, causing Hobo and Caddy to look back in alarm. “I’m okay,” I follow up immediately, not wanting to scare them. I am okay, but ouch. The fall shakes my confidence and I feel scared; what if I fell on the ridge? What if I slipped right off? I don’t know. There’s no choice but to move forward and be careful, so that’s what I do.

As I continue moving forward, some of my fear evaporates. This section of the trail is so beautiful I can barely stand it. High elevation makes for gorgeous nature candy – I can see tall snow covered trees for miles and miles, and it feels as though I am above everything, above the whole universe. I lose Caddy and Hobo almost immediately but I don’t mind being alone at all – I am in a winter wonderland. I want to stay here forever.

I follow the trail and am pleased to see hardly any snow on the ground. Perhaps we all worried for nothing! Perhaps this is going to be easy as pie. (My future self is rolling her eyes at my well intentioned but horribly naive past self.)

My eyes are still bursting over all the beauty around me, and I stop frequently to take photos. In the distance I can see Caddy and Hobo waiting for me, and I wonder why. We’re all heading to the same campground, and the trail seems totally manageable. I don’t want to make them wait while I take a million photos…

I finally get down to where Caddy and Hobo are and I see why they are waiting: a stream crossing, flowing with force across the trail. Oh. Gulp.

I don’t have much experience with stream crossings. I’m definitely intimidated by them. Everyone is talking about the Sierra stream crossings this year, the roaring rivers that will appear once the heavy snow pack begins to melt, and I feel scared of that. If this is a preview, I’m not sure I’m cut out for Sierra hiking in 2017. But no time to think about that now, not really. There’s a sketchy looking path to take to cross this particular river, really a small stream if I’m being honest, but overwhelming nonetheless. I tentatively put my foot on a slick rock and use my trekking poles to create three points of contact, like I’ve heard other hikers talk about. When I lift my other foot to attempt to place it on the log I quickly slip and suddenly find both feed plunged into the ice cold water – it’s scary but I’m lucky I’m still standing. My heart is pounding and I look up to see Caddy looking horrified; I quickly decide it will be safer to just plow across the stream with my feet in the cold water rather than attempting to balance myself on these slick surfaces, so that’s what I do. It is, ultimately, a small stream, and I’m on the other side quickly – feet and shoes soaking wet, confidence shook, but thankfully safe. Whew.

We have a quick group check in where I assure Caddy and Hobo that they don’t have to wait for me at stream crossings – it’s so kind, but I don’t want to feel as though I’m holding them up from getting to camp, and besides, the trail conditions seem mostly okay. We can all totally do Fuller Ridge! I’ll see them tonight.

As my friends hike on ahead of me I wonder where my other friends are, why they haven’t passed me yet. I also spend a lot of time wondering about the Sierra. Some days on trail it seems that’s all anyone can talk about – the Sierra, the Sierra, the Sierra. Will we be able to ford the rivers, brave the snow? Is a continuous thru-hike possible this year? I don’t know.

I’m a few miles away from the spot we’ve all agreed to camp when suddenly there is a lot of snow covering the trail. I mean, not a lot like they’re describing in the Sierra, but quite a bit. And it’s late afternoon now, so the snow is slushy in most parts and slick – ice, really – in the patches that have been covered with shade. Fuck. This part of the mountain is like a totally different place than the beginning of the ridge. I know nothing about mountains and snow, hadn’t thought that differing sunlight and heat could affect conditions so drastically. I am an idiot, and I am alone on this snow covered trail, and I am cold and nervous and not close to camp at all. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The thing is, there’s still really nothing to do but walk. One foot in front of the other. I fall a few more times and find myself exclaiming and swearing out loud, to no one. To the trees, to the trail, to myself. I finally decide it will be useful to put my microspikes on, and they do help. It’s not perfect, but I feel much more secure than I did without the spikes. Every few feet there are dry patches and I wonder if I should take the spikes off, but then a long stretch of snow/slush/ice will appear and so I keep them on. It is slow going.

Eventually it seems as though the snow is behind me. The trail is going down, down, down and I’m praying that eventually this will mean the snow will disappear. I mean, I know that is what will happen – snow happens at higher elevation, obviously – but I don’t know exactly when it will happen so I pray for the moment, the unknown timestamp when I will be able to release the breath I have been holding for the past few miles. And then it seems as though that moment has come! There’s a sunny clearing with no snow at all, and I exhale and stop to take off my spikes. Thank goddess.

But no! The trail turns again and there’s another hump of snow covered terrain. Whyyyyyy. I think about putting my spikes back on but I just took them off and I can see that this is the very last snow, the trail stretches beyond it completely clear and dry. I take a few tentative steps onto the snow bed but can tell immediately that it’s too slippery – if I fell I could hurt myself, I think. Ugh. I sit down on my ass and kind of scoot/crawl my way over this short obstacle – I’d always rather seat myself in snow or ice than risk falling. I remember the time Hadley and I hiked Angel’s Rest in the Gorge on New Year’s Day and the conditions were much worse than we anticipated and I made my way down the steep parts, covered in black ice, on my ass on purpose. Other people looked at me funny but they also fell and I didn’t care what they thought – I just wanted to be safe.

The trail has a sense of humor though, so of course, as soon as I seat myself on the snow in this awkward way, I hear rustling and three hikers appear seemingly out of no where. Of course. I’ve been by myself for hours all day, but the moment I’m in an embarrassing position, I’ve got company. Let go of your ego for forever, the trail whispers to me. Well okay. “Hi Mark!” I say, cheerfully. “Hi Helen! Hi Hot Sauce!” They’re nice and funny and don’t make fun of me sitting on my butt, though none of them have to sit down to handle this pile of snow. I feel sort of dumb but also happy to be alive, so whatever. I let them pass me, like I always let everyone pass me, and then I decide to haul ass to camp because I am over this! Gone is the perfect winter wonderland of a few hours ago – night is coming and even though there’s going to be a perfect full moon, all I want is a warm dinner and to be horizontal in my tent.

So I hustle, even though my knee is bothering me – is it from my 3-5 falls today? Is it just because going down is hard? Should I worry? – and then I’m at the campground! Caddy and Hobo are there already and so are a few other hikers I don’t recognize. It’s a huge campground and there’s room for all of us. I set up my tent near my friends and soon everyone else starts rolling in, too. Finally finally Mike, Cate, and Lynn arrive! I’m so relieved to see them – I didn’t want to say it out loud but I was worried something bad had happened to them. They describe their day and it sounds even harder than mine. Amelia and Raw Hide and Steffy and Colleen all show up too and we make a little village with all of our tents close together.

Hobo has been boiling snow for her and Caddy’s dinner and as soon as it’s done Caddy apologizes for not sitting around to socialize, saying, “I’ve got to get in my tent now!” No one is offended because we’re all of the same mindset and soon we are all in our tents, chatting through the thin walls and shoveling hot food into our mouths. Making a hot meal does a lot for my morale – my mom has sent me these amazing Good To Go ready made meals and the mushroom risotto is shockingly dairy-free (!!!) and also incredibly delicious. I feel as though I could eat seven servings, but the package only contains two so I settle for that.

I’m so happy to be in my tent after such a long cold day, and it’s really fun to be camping with a large group of humans that I like so much. Unfortunately I am so, so cold, and my clothes and my shoes are wet, so I’m anticipating a cold, wet morning. I’m so cold it is hard to move my fingers. And now, lying down, I realize that my left knee hurts a lot. I’m not doing anything – just lying in my tent – but there is a dull pain radiating around my knee. Why?

I try to ignore my ailments and think warm thoughts. Luckily I have warm dry socks to put on and my quilt is warm and dry and I’m wearing my fleece hat and my down puffy and I’m trying to be warm. I will be eventually, I know. But this is the first cold damp night on the trail and it’s not my favorite. I think about the whole day, about what it means if this was a low key foreshadowing for the Sierra. So low key, really. Nothing like the Sierra at all. And already this felt too hard for me. What does it mean, what does it mean? It means it’s time for bed.

Through her tent wall Caddy tells me she and Hobo will be up at 5:30 and will shove off at 6:30. Okay, I can do that. We’ll do a 15 mile day tomorrow, down down down, all the way to a “rusty pipe” where there’s water. Well okay. Tomorrow we pass the 200 mile marker. Tomorrow we say goodbye to all the snow for now. Tomorrow I keep hiking with my friends.

I’m cold but there’s nothing left to do but close my eyes and try to sleep. Eventually I do, and I have the weirdest dream. In my dream I’m hiking the AT with a flakey friend from high school, and we hitchhike back to Massachusetts to get dry socks and then my friend says she doesn’t want to hike anymore. I spend the rest of the dream trying to get a ride back to the trail, but no one will take me.

Zero in Idyllwild
0 miles

A car alarm goes off at 9am and I wake up from a bizarre dream. My shoes didn’t fit and I was trying to buy new ones but I was trapped in a bathroom at a fancy wedding and couldn’t sneak out. I don’t know. I really wanted my anxiety to calm down on the trail but so far, no luck. I guess I’m awake now, though.

It’s snowing outside. I have a text from Lionheart, showing a snow covered campground, what they woke up to this morning. I’m not sad to be in my warm bed instead of a chilly tent but I’m a little jealous. I’ve been second guessing all my decisions for a few days now, and my brain loop keeps it up: should I have hiked out yesterday? Ugh I don’t know. I didn’t and I can’t change that – but I sure can fixate on it!

Everyone needs to make a plan to get back onto the trail tomorrow, once the storm has passed. Because of the fire closure and everyone’s differing skill levels and purist-mentality, there are too many options about how to do this. Unsurprisingly, I’m stressed. Mike, Lynn, and Cate have decided that tomorrow they will take Devil’s Slide back to the PCT and then go from there down Fuller Ridge, a spot on the trail that is still somewhat snowy and may require microspikes and care. They do not plan to summit Mt. San Jacinto because of the weather.

I had initially really wanted to summit San Jacinto, but the weather has put me off. Caddy, Hobo, and I decide we will take Deer Springs trail instead of Devil’s Slide, which cuts off a few extra PCT miles. We should have a 12 or 13 mile day and should be able to get down and past Fuller Ridge by late afternoon. I’m pleased with this plan in terms of what I think is right for me, but I’m really bummed to be splitting up from Mike, Lynn, and Cate again. I only just caught them. Will I ever hike with them properly again? Are they my trail family or will I lose them? I love the idea of getting to know Caddy and Hobo better and hiking with them tomorrow sounds good, but I can’t help feel a bit lost. I am annoyed at myself for this – I want to be independent, make my own plans, follow my own path, hike my own hike. I never feel this dependent. Why aren’t I settling into this life and my own abilities out here?

I call my mom and tell her I’m sad. She’s in New York and has just had brunch with Sam, one of my first friends from college – that means we’ve been friends for a decade, now. I love that. My mom tells me about brunch and how lovely it was. “I reminded Sam of something he said to you years ago in college,” she tells me. I ask what that was, having no idea what she means. “Well remember, Sam said to you, that he thought you had very unconventional thoughts but that you’d live a conventional life?” I laugh. Yes, I remember. “So I told him that and he said, well, I was wrong! And I said yes, that was wrong.” We both laugh, and I feel a little better. It’s really nice to think about my mom and one of my close friends spending time together. It makes my heart happy.

I call Alley next and cry to her. What the fuck is my problem?! I’m so overwhelmed, still scared I can’t do this, still not feeling confident at all. I wish she was here. “Babe, you could come home right now and we’d all still be proud of you,” she tells me. I love her. I try to stop crying.

While I’m on the phone with Alley I see Claire, my friend who I haven’t seen since Warner Springs. She is the woman who was hiking with her daughter until mile 109 and then continuing on her own. I am so excited to see her; Alley and I say goodbye and I sit and have tea with Claire. Talking to her is soothing; she’s not my mom but she is a mom, and she somehow knows all the right things to say. I tell her how scared I am that I’ve been making the wrong choices, how stressful I find it to be alone, how I don’t feel confident in my own skills yet so am attaching myself to other groups and then feeling stressed if they make different decisions than I want to make. Claire tells me bluntly that I’ve got to make my own decisions. “I always act as if I am entirely alone out here,” she tells me. “If there end up being other people around, great, but I have to make my decisions as if I will be completely alone. Because I am.” This makes a great impression on me; I resolve to be more like Claire. Everything is going to be okay.

I meet Lynn, Cate, and Mike for a fancy final town dinner and it’s delicious. I order steak and we laugh and laugh and laugh and Lynn teases me for being in my pajamas at this nice restaurant (they are my only warm long sleeve clothes). We talk about how we will all probably end up at the same campground tomorrow night; they will just have a slightly longer day. I just don’t feel up to doing Devil’s Slide, a steeper trail, and am (mostly) certain I have made the right choice. Everything is going to be okay, I tell myself. I try to believe it.

 

On the way home from dinner I realize my shoes feel large. “I think my feet have finally gone back to their regular size after all that swelling from the heat,” I say to Mike. He agrees my shoes look big on me. I look down at my clown shoes and laugh. We all part ways to run final errands before bed, and on my way back to the lodge I meet a woman named Jo. I don’t really want to chat to a new person – it’s cold and starting to rain a bit, and I’m waking up early to finally hike out – but as soon as she says hello I notice her accent. “Are you South African?” I ask. She is! Her name is Jo; she’s South African but currently lives in the Yukon in Canada, she’s hiked the Appalachian Trail, and she’s so nice. We have a good chat and I’m happy I stopped. Trail life is so strange; the smallest interactions can either bring great joy or great sorrow or great irritation or great excitement. Maybe that’s how life always is, I think. This is just amplified because I think of it as an adventure. But maybe life is always an adventure.

 

I get back to the lodge and say goodnight to Cate, Mike, and Lynn. I text Caddy and Hobo to confirm that they’ve signed me up to go on the shuttle with them tomorrow to Deer Springs trailhead; they have. I go through my pack and try to lighten my load a bit – I almost toss my spice kit but instead just dump out lots of salt and paprika, making each baggie much smaller, I get rid of my olive oil, and I begrudgingly let go of the potato flakes and dried veggies I’ve been shlepping since the first day at Campo. My food bag is more than full enough for the next stretch and I’m obviously not eating these things; I’ve gotta let them go. Finally it’s bedtime. Tomorrow I’ll be back on the Pacific Crest Trail. I hope getting back to the proper hiking will make my brain feel calmer.

Zero in Idyllwild
0 miles

I wake up early but spend a long time just lying in bed. What a luxury. I eventually wake up and walk to the coffee shop to get a soy chai latte. Another luxury! Then I head back to the Red Kettle to have brunch with Cate, Mike, Lynn, Raw Hide, and Colleen. Luxury upon luxury upon luxury! I feel very spoiled.

At brunch we see Caddy, Hobo, and Blossom. Caddy tells me I am always “so animated” and I accept the observation as a compliment. I first met Caddy and Hobo briefly in the little store in Mt. Laguna, when I was taking my very first zero to fix my blistered feet. Now that seems like forever ago. I don’t know them very well yet but I’d like to know them better – I think they seem so wonderful. They met on the Appalachian Trail and have hiked a lot together since then. They are both retired – Caddy was an elementary school teacher and Hobo had a career in the Navy – and they are so warm and hilarious. I feel safe around them.

We all discuss our plans for tomorrow. Bad weather is coming. We’re at higher elevation than we’ve been for the past few days and bad weather could mean snow. It could mean dangerous conditions. I want to leave tomorrow – I am still second guessing myself and feeling as though I should have left today, should be on the mountain right now with Lionheart and Apple Juice and all my smart friends who had the foresight to get going to try to beat the bad weather – but I feel worried about this storm. Will it be safe to hike? Will we be able to summit Mt. San Jacinto? Should we stay an extra day? Caddy and Hobo are wanting to leave tomorrow, and so are we. But we’re not sure if it’s a good idea. But we’re all really ready to be back on trail.

Ugh. Have I mentioned I hate the logistics part of thru-hiking?

I head back to the gear shop to buy rain pants and discuss potential plans. Cate joins me. The guys who were nonchalant and blasé about the weather yesterday seem to have changed their minds, and they advise us not to hike out tomorrow. It won’t be good conditions; we’ll probably get wet and we won’t have a chance to dry out for a while because the bad weather may stick around for a few days. Do we want hypothermia or trench foot? No, we do not. We definitely do not.

It looks like we’ll be staying in Idyllwild for a bonus zero. I’m less excited about that than I thought I would be; mostly I feel anxious and weird about taking so much time off the trail. We’ll never make it to Canada at this rate, my brain screams. Shut up, I try to tell it. We’re not thinking about Canada right now, we’re just trying to get past this mountain! Sheesh.

When we get back to the lodge we hang out in the big communal room for a long time. There’s a fire place and hot water for tea and I’m happy, even if our changing plans are giving me anxiety. I really hate the level of anxiety that has accompanied me on this hike so far; I am used to hiking alleviating my stress, not creating it. This is different than a day hike in Forest Park, though.

Our little crew – me, Cate, Mike, and Lynn – talks it over and we decide it will be smartest to stay an additional night. Caddy texts me to say that’s what she and Hobo are doing, too. Well. That’s that, then. Another zero in Idyllwild, coming right up. I feel really dumb for telling Alley not to visit this weekend – we could have spent three full days together! I feel down in general. I think I will feel better when I’m back on trail, but for now I just feel blue.

We stay up late chatting, now that we know we won’t have to wake up early to hike. Our conversation winds through many interesting topics and lands on queerness. I realize that straight people keep asking me for a definition for this word/identity/community, and I don’t have a very good one. Or, my brain can’t formulate the thoughts and words for a deep, meaningful definition during this thru-hike. So if any of my queer friends reading this would like to offer some definitions of what it means to be queer and why we’ve added the Q to LGBTQ, I’d love that! The people who have been asking me about queerness are doing so with positive intentions and I’ve felt happy talking about it – I am just dissatisfied with my own answers to the question. Thank you in advance!

Mike and Cate generously give away the extra food from their resupply boxes – they’ve been sending themselves too much so I often benefit, getting their leftover prepackaged meals and Clif bars, Stinger waffles and Justin’s chocolate hazelnut butter. Between my leftover food from the last section, the small box I sent myself, the box my mom sent me, and Cate and Mike’s leftovers, I don’t even need to go to the store to resupply.

I spend the rest of the night trying to catch up on blog posts and feeling stressed about my blog. I don’t know how to write about the guys we met a few nights ago and so I’m not writing at all and I’m falling behind. This is too big a project to fall significantly behind on. I have to catch up!

But sleep is calling, and I’m exhausted even after doing nothing all day. I close my eyes, expecting to wake up to snow.

Zero in Idyllwild
0 miles

It’s weird to wake up in a house. My face is smushed into the white fluffy pillow and my body is covered in a white fluffy comforter. I’m clean. I’m also drooling, so at least some stuff is constant.

I idle in “bed” for a while working on my blog. I’m a few days behind actually writing entries – I’ve got my notes but haven’t written a full post in a few days – and it’s kind of overwhelming to think about cranking out so many words. I feel like I forget everything. Everyone knows it’s hard to keep up a blog on trail, but I love it so much and I really want to keep writing. I could write shorter entries, I know. I could. Anyway.

I rack my brain and look at my notes and my Guthooks map app to try to remember day 10. Day 10, day 10. What the heck happened six days ago. I write the post but I’m not so happy with it. It’s also weird because I don’t want to write EVERYTHING here – it’s tacky to write negatively about other people on the trail, to be completely honest – so sometimes the things that take up a lot of brain space in a day aren’t suitable to write about. This is a good exercise in a writing practice as well as a hiking practice. Figures that I’ve given myself two tasks on my long walk to Canada – be a hiker AND be a writer. I’m trying.

At 9am Cate wanders into the bedroom and seems happy to find me awake. She tells me the guys are going to drive us into town and then they’re going to the lake for the day, so we should move quickly. They’ve been generous with their time and we shouldn’t hold them up too much.

I use the bathroom (flush toilet! Luxurious!) and get dressed. Cate has folded my laundry like an angel so I quickly gather my things and repack my bag reasonably well. I still have so much fucking food in my food bag – 6 lbs at least. Just 6 lbs I casually carried for fun I guess through several 90+ degree days in the desert. You’re an idiot, Self, I think. Pack out less food this time. Promise? You better promise.

Then we’re all clambering into the truck and heading to town. I ride in the back with Mike and Cate and our bags. It’s hilarious how quickly 13 miles go by when you’re not walking them. I’m thrilled to have skipped the alternate route; I feel no guilt at all.

The guys drop us in the center of town; they wish us luck and head off to the lake. And now here we are, in Idyllwild! With every other hiker on the trail, it seems. It’s nice to see everyone but also overwhelming. We all immediately run into people we want to chat with – Hobo and Caddy, Larry and Amanda, Tori (who is now going by Dos Tacos) and Tim, Amy who is now Blossom…it takes a little bit to get to our room at Silver Pines Lodge. But we finally do and it’s awesome. We’re able to check in super early and there is a queen bed for Mike and Cate and a trundle bed situation for me and Lynn and a bathroom and a window and it’s perfect. I hop on the wi-fi and publish my Day 10 blog post and then I get started on chores. Oh, town chores.

First up, gear shop. I ask about the weather and buy a new pair of lightweight breathable hiking shorts to try to mitigate the never ending butt chafe issue. I also buy a brand new Body Glide. Maybe this will help. According to the intel from the gear shop dudes, it seems like I can bounce my ice axe to Kennedy Meadows for sure, and my crampons also. I’ll keep my microspikes, though the guy at the store isn’t convinced I’ll need them. I’m overwhelmed by the map and the routes to get out of Idyllwild. I wish thru-hiking wasn’t such a logistical nightmare sometimes. I listen to the guy’s suggestions and take a photo of the big map in the store. I’ll think about it later.

I realize it’s noon and I haven’t eaten anything yet today, so I ask Cate and Mike and Lynn if they wanna get food. Lynn wants Mexican and Cate and Mike are gonna eat trail food to conserve their budget for a movie and beer later but I’m dying for eggs. I am feeling sort of sad. Alley and I had talked about her visiting me in Idyllwild, even checked in about it yesterday morning because flights weren’t too bad, but it just seemed not right. The flight was still not cheap, I’d already said I would share a room with my friends, I have so many town chores to do, it’s only been 2 weeks. But I suddenly miss her so much and am annoyed at myself for not asking her to come. I wish I could just lie in bed and have her hold me. Fuck.

I part ways with Lynn and Cate and Mike in search of eggs at the Red Kettle. I text with Toby, who is also staying at the lodge we are, and he says he’ll meet me. I try to perk up.
The restaurant does indeed serve eggs all day and I’m happy about that. I sit down and order eggs florentine and a side of sausage and decide to accept any consequences town food wreaks on my belly. I work on a blog post while I wait for Toby and then I get a text from him that his feet are in bad shape and he’s gonna pass on meeting me if that’s okay. Of course it’s okay, but it adds to my dramatic lonely feelings.

I think I expected to feel overjoyed and safe and perfect when I met back up with Cate and Mike and Lynn but I still feel unstable. I don’t know what their plan is, there are so many options, what will we all do, can I even make it to Canada, how will I do the Sierra if I’m all by myself? I miss home and I miss my friends and I miss my girlfriend and I’m crying at a table by myself at the Red Kettle in Idyllwild. Oh boy.

I indulge my sadness for a little bit and text Alley and Toby and write the above paragraphs but then I try to snap out of it. I have to go to the post office. I have to back flush my water filter. I should soak my feet. I don’t have time to cry at this table all day.

Getting up and walking around is good. I put on my sunglasses and head to the post office. I am picking up three boxes and a letter, I think. They do not have my letter. I feel certain that someone – a person who reads my blog? An Instagram commenter? – has said they have sent me a letter to Idyllwild. I even have a note in my phone reminding me to ask for it and noting that there was a big VF on the back. The woman at the post office is certain this letter does not exist. I try to find the original note about it on my phone but I can’t remember where that is. There’s a long line and I feel embarrassed to be a difficult customer, so I eventually give up and take my three boxes off to the side. I’m bummed that someone potentially put effort into sending me something sweet that I’m not going to receive. Or am I insane and this letter never existed? I’m not sure.

I need to bounce my ice axe and my crampons to Kennedy Meadows. When you pick a box up at the post office, if you don’t open it, you can bounce it to another post office destination for free! That’s a pro-tip from the thru-hiker world, you’re welcome. Anyway lucky for me my resupply person, Susie, is a genius, and has packaged my ice axe and my crampons in the same box. So I keep it closed and bounce it ahead. I open my other two boxes and am thrilled: Susie has added goodies to the box I packed myself with microspikes and maps and dried veggies – she included a card and some bars and more jerky and some sweets – and my mom has sent me a box with Gatorade powder and five Good to Go meals! My cooking situation is about to get 1000x better – I can just boil water and add it directly to these meal bags! No more washing my pot! I am gonna be living the luxurious life! I call Susie once I’m outside the post office to go over some logistical things and she’s amazing per always, listens to me and hears me feeling sad, offers sage advice, cheers me up. I’m so lucky to have such a good support system at home. I am grateful.

After the post office I head back to our room where my three friends are hanging out. I try to be upbeat and cheerful but Lynn asks if I’m okay and suddenly I’m crying on my bed. All three of them are bewildered; what’s wrong? I hiccup my way through an explanation: “I just feel so lonely and confused about what to do…and I miss Alley…and I really wanted eggs this morning but you all wanted Mexican which was fine but then I got to the Red Kettle and I was all by myself and I was so sad…but you guys, the eggs were really good!” I sound nuts and I know it; Cate bursts out laughing. Soon I’m laughing too. I just have so many feelings and somehow being on the trail heightens every single one! “Scissors, you have so many highs and lows,” Cate says. “You are like all mountains and valleys! There’s no middle ground. Everything is either amazing or horrible.” I laugh hard at this, because I know if Alley could hear her she’d be nodding her head so hard. Cate’s comments aren’t mean and they don’t make me feel bad – she’s right. I feel things so hard. Nevermind my physical capabilities – my poor heart may not make it through this journey!

Later Toby – now Apple Juice – texts me to see if I want to get pizza and I do. We end up at a fancy place with fairy lights and live music and joke that it feels like we’re on a date. Our conversation is so refreshing – he is hiking out tomorrow and I’m sad. I feel sort of rejuvenated after my day off today – should I have only planned to take one zero in Idyllwild? There’s talk of a storm rolling in and he’s aiming to get out and over Fuller Ridge, the path the trail takes and a spot one would not want to be in a storm, before the weather arrives. He’s faster than me and hiking on a stricter timeline; if he lives tomorrow and I wait until the next day, it’s probable I won’t see him again. I’m having a really hard time figuring out how to structure my hike, when I should do what, how much I should let others’ plans affect my own. Sigh.

After dinner Apple Juice heads back to his room to care for his blisters and get ready to leave in the morning. I run into Lionheart on my way back to the lodge and I hang out with her for awhile; she’s also hiking out with a big group tomorrow, to avoid the storm. That means I’ll probably lose her, too. Should I have also planned to leave tomorrow? What will the storm be like? How far behind will my group fall? What does that even mean? What would make me feel less lonely? Why isn’t Alley here?

Fuck. Being in town is good rest for my body, but not great rest for my anxiety brain, it turns out. Eventually I say goodnight to Lionheart and head back to my room at the lodge. Mike and Cate are sleeping already and Lynn is still up watching a movie. I crawl into my bed (a real bed!) and have trouble falling asleep, second guessing every choice I’ve ever made.