It’s the evening of the 114th day on the trail, and I am worried about tomorrow. It’s intended to be a 20 mile day, and it will be 4500 feet of elevation gain into the Sierra Pelona mountains. I have new shoes and new blisters to go along with them and my feet have been painful in new ominous ways. It’s hot, and water is scarce. It’s hard to tell if there will be adequate water at any given source listed on the map. My pack is still strangely heavy from the resupply in Tehachapi. I never would have thought that this far into the trip I would still have doubt and anxiety about whether or not I could keep going, whether or not I should keep going.

The first day of this section was quite beautiful walking out of Tehachapi through the wind farm. We hiked into the dark under the wind turbines which felt like benevolent, gentle giants slowly waving their arms against the backdrop of the setting sun and emerging stars. Today, however, was the LA aqueduct. This is an iconic part of the Pacific Crest Trail in California. It is nearly flat, completely shadeless, not particularly beautiful and 17 miles long. In the summer months, most people hike it at night because of the intolerable heat. I chose to hike it during the day, but got an early start. Still, it was quite hot by the time I made it to the mostly abandoned Hikertown, a tiny little gathering place for hikers to take a break and access services. Some years ago, this was a thriving little community where hikers could get just about anything they needed, but for some reason, the whole place seems to be completely shut down like a little ghost town. I did not intend to stop here other than to take a lunch break in the shade, but along with two other hikers, I got lured by the promise of milkshakes and the offer of a free shower at the general store about 10 miles down the highway. The owner himself gave us a ride to this almost comically unprepared location where they were nearly out of ice cream and no one knew how to work the milkshake machine. After the 45 minutes it took to get our milkshakes, we were pretty much stranded for the night and offered “free camping“ in side yard of the store. This area which was scattered with trash piles and right next to the highway. So currently I am camped by a loud highway listening to the huge semi trucks rumble by, wondering why I am here and how I am going to make it up those mountains tomorrow.

In the morning, the ride promised to us by the store owner never showed up so after a failed attempt at hitch hiking, we asked one of the other employees from the store to drive us back to the trail. I was so thankful to be back on trail and out of the Neenach that I really didn’t mind the steep climbing or the hot sun. Eventually the trail gained enough elevation to get us back into an oak forest. The oak forests are beautiful. There is the familiar crunch of acorns under my feet, occasionally rolling like small marbles threatening to skitter my feet right out from under me in a Fred Flintstone maneuver. Unfortunately, there is also the return of the tiny black gnats that buzz around my face trying to get up my nose and into my eyes. Hiking with a bug net over my head is hot but necessary to preserve my sanity. There were two water sources in this twenty mile section, one a tiny trickling creek and the other a large full water tank that we could dip a cup into to fill bottles, all of which needs to be filtered. This section of the trail was also the beginning of a new poisonous plant called poodle dog bush, highly toxic to the skin, causing an itchy blistering rash. From what I hear, it is substantially worse than poison oak. The plant has a fierce look to it and noxious smell. The trail is lined with these overgrown devils in places. There are many things to be concerned about in the desert, but being afraid of bushes seems a bit ridiculous.

I’ve been grateful for the company of ‘Sunshine’, a young man about 25 years of age from Southern California. We’ve been traveling this section together, and he is in love with the landscape of this area. He is also very knowledgeable so he has pointed out new species of trees, and the delineation between one mountain range and another. He sees nuances this place that I call a ‘desert’ in a way that I would not have had the knowledge to appreciate. I have met the Gray Pine for the first time. This is a delicate, long needle pine with enormous cones. There is also the Large Cone Douglas fir, similar to my well known northern friend but with… well, larger cones. It’s fun to be in the company of someone who finds this landscape as beautiful and exciting as I found Washington, and I feel the ways that I am now similar to the people who couldn’t really see and appreciate the beauty of Washington. I am now the one who is a little burned out on the PCT, the one who is looking forward to getting home.

It’s not just that I’m tired, and I’m definitely not tired of being outside all day. I still don’t mind filtering water, and I love camping and sleeping in my tent. I am greatly affected by landscape, and this land is not my heart’s home. For me, this landscape is stressful and intimidating rather than uplifting and energizing. The water scarcity is a constant concern and the new poisonous plants have me ever watchful and vigilant. As much as I am trying to appreciate this unique environment, I cannot deny my level of burnout and emotional fatigue. I realize that when I envisioned hiking the PCT, Southern California was not part of that vision. My dream was Washington and Oregon, and my bravest goal was the Sierra Nevada section and Mount Whitney. So, as I continue to hike south, I am reflecting on my intentions for this trip, intentions that are ever being honed and refined. What is life asking of me right now? How is my joy- meter? When is it enough?

The Desert

Enough

Where the Mountains Meet the Desert