Spooked on Day 83
Joe drove me back to the trail on a Friday after the storm had passed to exactly the place where I had left off Tuesday afternoon. Joe was an Uber driver we met by chance who had given us his phone number and invited us to call him personally for rides if we needed anything. An unofficial Trail Angel, he had rescued me before the storm and even secured me a great deal on a hotel room in South Lake Tahoe via his connections. I was so relieved that I ended up giving out my credit card number over the phone in his car before he dropped me off at the hotel he had helped arrange. I had a slightly uncomfortable feeling while doing so, but I over rode that feeling in order to secure myself a place to sleep that night and not appear to be rude or mistrustful. Then, I forgot all about it as I unpacked, showered and did laundry. That night at midnight, I sat bolt upright in bed, realizing what I had done with a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Was Joe a Good Samaritan or a savvy con artist? I really wasn’t sure. I really wanted to trust him and his kindness, but I also felt very uneasy about it, and I could not get back to sleep. I logged onto my credit card company and saw no abnormal charges, called the lost or stolen number and canceled my card. My new card would be sent to the horsepacking station at Kennedy Meadows.
Once back on trail, the weather was excellent and I was making good time through terrain that was looking more and more like the quintessential Sierra Nevada mountains. It took me 3 1/2 days to reach Kennedy Meadows where I was able to get in and out of “town”, a horse packing station, in under two hours. Having spent so long in Tahoe waiting out the weather, I did not want to linger. Michael and Ian had the perfect resupply box waiting for me with all my food, a new water filter and some warmer winter clothing for the High Sierra. I made a quick job of repacking, charged up my phone and got back up to the trailhead in time to get another 15 miles in before camping for the night. The scenery was becoming distinctly High Sierra with expansive rocky peaks, long switchbacks and even some permanent snow fields cling to the north side of the mountains.
One surprising thing about the Sierra is how high timberline is. I’m not used to seeing such tall trees at 10,000 feet, and at 8000 feet, the forest can become deep and dark indeed. This is where I ended up camping on the second night out of Kennedy Meadows. I felt disappointed as soon as I saw the forest I needed to camp in. I had hiked my 22 miles for the day, and if I were to go any further, I would have to take on a 1200 foot climb. I knew I needed to be done for the day, but something about that forest gave me the creeps. A Stellars Jay was sending out a warning call, there was downed timber everywhere and a shallow muddy meandering creek. No one would really stop here unless they absolutely had to.
I have camped alone more times than I have camped with other people on this trip, and seldom have I felt anything that resembled fear. But on this particular evening, night 83 of my PCT, at this particular campsite, I found myself flooded with adrenaline, actually feeling fear for no objective reason that I could consciously discern. I reminded myself that I had not even seen a bear scat all day, but that only helped a little. Well after dark, a hiker came through with a headlamp. Sometimes PCT hikers will hike in the dark by headlamp to get extra miles in. I popped my head out of my tent to say hello and to let him know that there were some very good camp spots near me, a disguise for begging him to camp with me, but he moved on.
I woke very early the next morning and made coffee in the pitch dark. While sitting in the doorway of my tent sipping coffee, I heard some sticks crack not far away at all. I shined my light toward the sound and saw a pair of eyes staring back at me. They say that prey animals’ eyes are on opposite sides of their faces so you won’t see both eyes shining back at you at the same time, but predators’ eyes are both on the front of the face. I definitely saw two eyes reflecting back at me, reddish yellow and low to the ground. I had to look at it long and hard through the beam of my headlamp to finally discern that it was a deer licking the spot where I had peed the evening before in order to get the salt. We declared a truce with each other, the deer and I, and she kept licking and I kept sipping until we had both gotten everything we could get from our respective morning liquids. Finally, it was time to pack up and get moving.
I don’t know why I felt so afraid that night, but I suspect it wasn’t because of the deer. I felt silly, and my first reaction was to criticize myself and try to talk myself out of it. Later, I was reminded that fear and even feeling ill at ease is a signal from the nervous system. According to some estimates, the subconscious mind can process 11 million bits of information per second while the conscious mind can only process 40 to 50 bits of information per second. What the exact numbers are, nobody knows for sure but the implication is clear. Our complex nervous systems know things that we may not be consciously aware of. Maybe there was something else nearby in the forest that night, maybe not. I will never know for sure. Maybe it was totally unnecessary for me to cancel my credit card, but maybe not.
So can you still get spooked camping alone after nearly three months? You bet! And maybe for good reason.
(I actually don’t have any pictures of the creepy forest because when you’re feeling spooked, you don’t tend to get out your camera and take photos!)
