Morale: emotional
Climate: hot desert canyon
Miles: 298.5 - 308
"I have just enough to get by, so I'm going to make a miracle happen." - Fire Ant
Today I learned how much I want this - the hard way. After waking up at our beautiful campsite by the water - such a rarity on this trip - we headed out with enthusiasm, knowing that the hot springs were just ten miles ahead, and we were hopeful that we would catch Jetpack and Dayhike. Within a mile, Adam's knee pain was causing him to limp, no matter how he wrapped it or adjusted his stride. We slowed down quickly, and by mile 5 of the day, we came to the painful realization that we needed to get off the trail. Adam called his mom and Michael, who are luckily still in Palm Springs for two more days. No questions asked, they promised to meet us at a random point in the desert in the evening. Not knowing if we would have cell service, we crossed our fingers and trudged on.
[Mile 300!, just more interesting PCT signs, Purple flowers!, a really cool mountainside (you had to be there)]
The afternoon brought tears for us both. The idea of getting off trail - indefinitely - brought a wave of awareness that walking to Canada is the only thing that makes sense to us right now. Pre-PCT me would have expected to feel relief to have an out, to have time off trail to work on Catalyst, to drink coffee and participate in society. But suddenly, the idea of our hike coming to a rushing halt was devastating. Losing our little hiker family and broader hiker community felt painful enough, and then I started thinking of the sacrifices made to be here and the number of people rooting us on and supporting us in so many ways.
I smiled weakly after the phone call and unconvincingly reassured that "we'll do something fun. It will be okay." We walked in silence, and I fought off tears, feeling sick to my stomach. We came across Genie and Fire Ant at a water source two miles before the hot springs. They asked about our intentions for the rest of the day, and I broke down in tears telling them that we were getting off trail indefinitely. Genie gave me a hug and reassured me that many kinds of knee pain can be endured without causing harm to the hiker. Fire Ant shared her story, the details of which I'll keep anonymous, but I felt reinvigorated that everyone comes to the PCT for a reason. The optimism, hopefulness, and resilience of the human spirit are contagious out here. This is a world I want to be a part of.
We hobbled two more miles to the hot springs; water is such a rarity out here, let alone a spring that draws folks in from outside the PCT. How they arrive is a mystery to me... the spring was deep in a canyon, surrounded by mountain walls with no road to be seen. And they're largely 65+ year-old-naked-men. I can't wait until I'm an old man and completely self assured. There was a small group of hikers huddled together in more modest swimming options, and we momentarily forgot our troubles and enjoyed the hot springs. I stood in the cold river socializing with the other women, while Adam got stuck in a casual conversation with two older naked men in the "hot tub."
[Hot springs chillin]
After a bit, we packed up, said our goodbyes to Spearhead, Animal Style, Fire Ant, and Genie, and we made our way two-three miles out of the canyon. First, we waded across the river with packs and then scrambled up the mountain side - straight up. We watched the others get smaller and smaller as they hiked along the PCT below us. Finally, we found ourselves with an excellent view of the entire range. The details of the people and the trail were now far below; our view consisted of hazy desert mountain tops.
We luckily had service and were able to send Margaret and Michael our location. They sent theirs, and we alternated between waiting and walking in their general direction, since the dirt roads were impassable, steep, sandy, and rutted.
Then, as if in an action movie, or really any car commercial, over the hill appeared a big black pick-up truck; in the front seat was a pop of pink - Margaret of course, laughing her jingly laugh. Margaret and Michael had called a friend, Jeff, whom they met in Belize. He met them at the bottom of the range and drove them up the cliff edge of the mountain for an hour and a half in our general direction. At times, Margaret and Michael had to get out of the vehicle while Jeff slammed the gas to get over, down, and around the terrible dirt roads. Their rental car would have never made it. I swear, those two could rescue us anywhere!
I cheered up a bit when we stopped for Indian food. We then drove the last hour and a half back to Uncle Ben's. HUGE THANK YOU to Jeff, Margaret, Michael, Uncle Ben!
[Fey is quite good at articulating how we feel through her body positions, Hysteria with Ma, Michael and Jeff, Our rescue vehicle]
