I’ve been hiking about an hour and a half this morning, which means, if I’m lucky, I may have gone 4 miles of the 10 mile climb I have ahead of me. This will be the largest elevation gain of any single day since I’ve been on the trail, nearly 6000 feet climbing out of Seiad Valley. Despite my rather pathetic efforts to get out of camp early, I did not start walking till 7 AM. Everything felt chaotic, disorganized and scrambled, as if it was my first day on the trail. I am now walking in the sun through partially burned areas with underbrush choked with birch, maple, poison oak and Oregon grape.

In fact, it is my first day. It’s my first day without Ian. I’ve had a traveling companion for three weeks, and yesterday we said goodbye at the Grider campground where he dropped me off to drive himself to the train station in a car borrowed from a trail angel. I had my little cry, dipped my body in the creek and headed up the trail in sandals at 4pm. It was the first time I really wondered why I’m even doing this trip. It would have been so easy to head home with Ian. My crying was interrupted by the sound of a rattlesnake , which had the desired effect of making me stop, look, listen and proceed with caution. Senses heightened, I ended up hiking almost 8 miles last night in the cooling evening and not camping until just before dark.

I missed the Olympics entirely this year due to being on trail, but I have my own little Olympic sport going here on the PCT. I imagine myself in the log crossing Olympic Games as I make my way over the blow downs. Each one is different. In rockclimbing they call them boulder problems. Here, I have log problems, dozens of small puzzles to solve. The judges are looking for efficiency and speed, creativity, gracefulness, and of course, getting through without injury, no scrapes, bumps or bruises.

My signature move is the counterbalance step-through. This works for a slanted log as follows: if the log is slanted downward from right to left, the right hand goes down on the upper part of the log, left foot lands on the lower part of log, poles have both been transferred to the left hand, right foot swings through and lands gracefully on the ground. Stand up tall. Smile at the judges, and move on to the next. Of course, sometimes it is a total flail of snapping branches, crumbling dirt, hanging onto any plant that still has roots and hoping not to get my eye poked out. I can hear the judges muttering “Oh, she’ll lose points for dragging that leg across the bark. And was that a balance check I saw?”

I come to a very welcome reprieve in the climb, rearrange some water so I can access it more easily and pass a northbound female hiker who appears to be almost my age. We have a brief chat and carry-on. She tells there are more blow downs ahead of me, but they prove to be easy compared to what I have been doing already this morning.

It has become hot again, temperatures in the valley were in the 90s, so I was eager to get out of camp early and get this climb done in the coolness of the morning. I am also looking forward to being at elevation again. As my father taught me, the air temperature usually cools off by about 3° per thousand vertical feet. This is called the adiabatic lapse rate, which I learned at an unusually young age. Thanks to my learned, somewhat quirky dad, I also learned the latent heat of steam in the latent heat of fusion of ice, but those are not relevant to me right now.

The truth is, getting used to hiking alone again is going to be difficult. I have just lived a parent’s dream. My 22 year old son chose to spend three weeks with me sharing in a lifelong dream. This will be nearly impossible to top in my lifetime. California is totally unfamiliar to me and everything feels less certain. Fire closures have been reopened, but there is question about the water safety given the application of fire retardant. Some of the water carries are long, most of the towns require hitchhiking, and there are reports of mountain lions attacking hikers in the Trinity Alps, which is coming up in the next section. Bottom line, I am in what they call the NorCal blues. Whether you hike northbound or southbound, northern California is in the middle of a very long journey. I have hiked over 1000 miles, but I’m not halfway yet. The ups and the downs are relentless and steeper than Oregon. For the first time in my journey, I have considered stopping, but I have made an agreement with myself. I will not quit the trail without taking at least a week off to rest. I will try not to worry about the next 1650 miles, but rather, only the next 100 miles. I just have to hike to the next resupply town. Even though I am longing to have companionship on the trail, I have to continue to hike my own hike at my own pace and at a mileage per day that is sustainable for me. Within this context, I will need to dig deep to my commitment to find beauty and awe in every day and be present to the waves of grief and loneliness as a role on through. It was inevitable there would be days like this.

Don't surrender your loneliness

So quickly.

Let it cut more deeply.

Let it ferment and season you

As few human

Or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my heart tonight

Has made my eyes so soft,

My voice so tender,

My need of the divine

Absolutely clear.

-Hafiz