tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535554013739505962024-03-05T02:20:59.292-07:00Summit RounderSummit Rounder ~ Stories from a guy who likes to wander the mountains ~Adam Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496938386202233355noreply@blogger.comBlogger127125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-36092994737231745672020-05-10T13:31:00.001-06:002020-05-10T13:42:54.632-06:00Little Bear Southwest Ridge<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Date</b>: May 9th, 2020</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Mission</b>: <a href="https://www.summitpost.org/southwest-ridge/161162" target="_blank">Little Bear Peak via the Southwest Ridge</a></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Who</b>: My friend Ali and I</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Length</b>: 14.5 miles</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Elevation gain</b>: Approximately 6200 ft.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Mountaineering requires an ability to keep memories of lessons learned. We call this experience. Yet, it also takes the ability to quickly forget the days that are exhausting, terrifying, or just downright painful either physically, mentally, or both.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Views towards Blanca Peak (right) and Ellingwood Point (left) from the summit of Little Bear Peak</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've been climbing with my friend Ali for a while now. Since our first summit together on La Plata Peak in the winter, we've had some intense and long days; including a winter summit of Yale complete with waist high trail-breaking for miles and a memorable day on the Maroon Bells Traverse.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When winter of 2020 rolled around, Ali had one 14er remaining to complete the list of 58 Colorado 14ers. The last challenge remaining was Little Bear Peak. Little Bear is one of Colorado's most dangerous peaks, due to class 4 climbing on notoriously loose rock. This mountain has claimed lives and will continue to do so. It is part of the larger Blanca massif which rises nearly 7000 ft directly from the floor of the San Luis valley. This mountain's lore starts with the fact that the granite on this mountain is 1.8 billion years old. The massif is also known as a sacred mountain to the Navajo people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've always wanted to be there for a good friend's 14er finisher. After my first climb of Little Bear, which involved a 19 hour day and me almost getting my head taken off by a boulder knocked loose above me, I vowed I would never go back. This is where a mountaineer's ability to quickly forget comes in.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Bear SW Ridge in January 2020</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In January 2020, Ali pitched the idea of Little Bear's Southwest Ridge. I didn't want to miss his final 14er, so I was in. That day we started from somewhere around 8200' on Lake Como road, and had an epic bushwhack across the dessert floor through Junipers, cacti, and brush so thick that we occasionally army crawled to get through it. We quickly realized that starting from this location was a bad choice. We made it to 12,900' that day before turning back due to exhaustion, wind, and lack of remaining daylight. We were on the mountain and/or bushwhacking that day for nearly 15 hours. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a little San Luis valley love.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">On that first attempt, we were however rewarded with a spectacular sunset, almost Little Bear's way of inviting us back again. And yet this day, this mountain ripped a water bottle from my pack and tore two snow baskets off my trekking poles. I also ripped a hole in a wind layer. It was as if we had to pay a "price of admission" to Little Bear's Southwest Ridge. Again, I vowed never to return.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">January 2020 sunset over the San Luis valley.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In March 2020, I again broke my vow and we went back for a second attempt. This time starting from about 8400' on a four-wheel drive road closer to Tobin Creek. We made it to 13,100' before turning back due to heavy winds and near whiteout conditions. On the descent, I had terrible altitude sickness with a splitting headache and I was incredibly nauseous. On this day, the "price of admission" was a hole in one of my gaiters which happened when I fell into a cactus and one of my gloves was ripped open somewhere along the way also. Again, I vowed to never go back. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March 2020 - Little Bear Southwest Ridge</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March 2020 - the sun obscured by clouds</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In early April of 2020, I sprained my ankle badly in a glissading accident on Fletcher Mountain. Ali and my friend Drew assisted me out and the next day my orthopedic doctor told me to use crutches for two weeks and then weeks 3 and 4 I could start biking. Weeks 5-6 I could do "light hiking" and mountain biking was ok. After 6 weeks, I could start ramping hiking activity back to normal.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sad jeep : (</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was on crutches for 5 days. I started mountain biking on day 6. I was light hiking on week two. Twenty-four days after my injury I soloed 13ers Dyer and Gemini. Three days later I climbed Guyot, albeit in some pain. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Six days later, a stellar weather forecast for Little Bear on May 9, 2020 appeared. I knew how badly Ali wanted to get this mountain done. I felt like my ankle was about 80%. In my eyes that was good enough, knowing that the 4000' of talus on Little Bear's Southwest Ridge would be the biggest of challenges for an injured ankle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We drove out the night before and due to a miscommunication we first drove up the wrong four-wheel drive road and then retreated and found the right one. Then we decided to push it a little too far up a less traveled road and this resulted in driving through an increasingly narrowing four-wheel trail and the price was scratches down the entire passenger side of both of our vehicles. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We stopped at 8300'. We set the alarm for 3:15am. I fell asleep in the back of my Jeep almost immediately despite being annoyed at the damage to my Jeep. I ultimately decided to chalk up to the "price of admission".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We started hiking under a full moon at 3:45am. The bushwhack was on; through the dessert full of cactus, yucca, and every thorn-filled bush you could imagine. In spite of my ankle hurting, we made pretty good time. We arrived at the treeline at 11,500' around 8am.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We were both feeling confident at this time. We pushed onward through the loose talus that wobbled or shifted with every third or fourth step. The weather was beautiful and we were both surprised by how little snow there was. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise over the San Luis Valley</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Onward through the talus we pushed, staying mostly on the top of the ridge and dealing with a few PUDS (pointless ups and downs).</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ali walking part of the 4000' of talus.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here we started to approach some interesting terrain</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This video taken from "South Little Bear"</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Views of the ridge over to Little Bear. It looks both fun and intimidating from here. It was around here that I wished I hadn't carried my crampons and ice ax this entire way, because it was clear that our route was free of snow or ice.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii1VZd1j54RaJ-qIVzftM6Ynh-UTYNGrbchUY_r-zYee0X2Gjxo2YzNFf0nBNjHbfPIMxXyfWOV9ZOtey7bLG84XkTTw9R3jTfEWam_glcxoB9HJalioCDh9ANT6i0q-3s1UqnAKFvK7c/s1600/20200509_171325012_iOS.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii1VZd1j54RaJ-qIVzftM6Ynh-UTYNGrbchUY_r-zYee0X2Gjxo2YzNFf0nBNjHbfPIMxXyfWOV9ZOtey7bLG84XkTTw9R3jTfEWam_glcxoB9HJalioCDh9ANT6i0q-3s1UqnAKFvK7c/s640/20200509_171325012_iOS.heic" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ali scrambling up the ridge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij08mlaQZhrG8cwgrQqXOS-ApzhVFoxSNvrVb2NTinnubdW1FATKm3oI7LWpd7x6-JaFP0JoM_vJDmottJgOxer6ASqETA6r6NP_NrAxbHkg6YAbx6A88aBjlc5Rp-X_m9RXH6_5KvS00/s1600/20200509_180617701_iOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1132" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij08mlaQZhrG8cwgrQqXOS-ApzhVFoxSNvrVb2NTinnubdW1FATKm3oI7LWpd7x6-JaFP0JoM_vJDmottJgOxer6ASqETA6r6NP_NrAxbHkg6YAbx6A88aBjlc5Rp-X_m9RXH6_5KvS00/s640/20200509_180617701_iOS.jpg" width="452" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some class 4 climbing. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj32CMz0B646Hxb5oecnXDkZvXXR4Wcvxst_HEVSDjfjYffUeSARs4UAugpRIR9vOTOQ3fhiJQ_YPHKbIo9Gjo81BzDHZMm1LurWE6imgzGeqO5Zu4yPKcdLSZEjyXp2eDHeVHbzFbHBZA/s1600/20200509_181612366_iOS.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj32CMz0B646Hxb5oecnXDkZvXXR4Wcvxst_HEVSDjfjYffUeSARs4UAugpRIR9vOTOQ3fhiJQ_YPHKbIo9Gjo81BzDHZMm1LurWE6imgzGeqO5Zu4yPKcdLSZEjyXp2eDHeVHbzFbHBZA/s640/20200509_181612366_iOS.heic" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the moment Ali reached the summit of his final 14er. Smiles don't get more genuine than this. I know this feeling personally. It's such a tremendous accomplishment. It demonstrates the dedication to a goal, the mental toughness, the physical ability one has, and grit & character. And let's not forget the miles driven, the ability to overcome adversity, sleep deprivation, inclement weather, and downright exhaustion. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Oddly, May 9, 2020 is six years to the day of the first time I climbed Little Bear Peak. In 2014 I climbed it via the Hourglass, and 2020 via the Southwest Ridge. Conditions were entirely different and a demonstration of climate change. Just take a look at the snowpack differences behind me in the summit photos from 2014 vs 2020.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEzseyRhdODzwV-TUerhLiXaDOmnIemN7xSN79D0gxn6oESen5AZKFC5NH12qXXM7gMAL3NsQw4pcAliwTPGlo2cf7L_YWyDHNL9E-kZJViupDDbSjv8JIiNbAyJhLgvwTQFOXMyCSTdI/s1600/IMG_9598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEzseyRhdODzwV-TUerhLiXaDOmnIemN7xSN79D0gxn6oESen5AZKFC5NH12qXXM7gMAL3NsQw4pcAliwTPGlo2cf7L_YWyDHNL9E-kZJViupDDbSjv8JIiNbAyJhLgvwTQFOXMyCSTdI/s640/IMG_9598.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May 09, 2014 - summit of Little Bear Peak</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjR2Cf1a0moUwM0nLRiyAeHOo2n2vGfIJwgFNbf8gW2a7wOV_dPN7dwv91cJby2XJiEBnyGguRKZP4NWe-FvDn40h6J6IoViRW9RKB1dxCFxotgxvrnRX5154Uewit1k1JUiaUW0aCi6A/s1600/20200509_182510416_iOS.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjR2Cf1a0moUwM0nLRiyAeHOo2n2vGfIJwgFNbf8gW2a7wOV_dPN7dwv91cJby2XJiEBnyGguRKZP4NWe-FvDn40h6J6IoViRW9RKB1dxCFxotgxvrnRX5154Uewit1k1JUiaUW0aCi6A/s640/20200509_182510416_iOS.heic" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May 09, 2020 - summit of Little Bear Peak</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: center;">I was so happy to summit. My happiness was mostly for my friend accomplishing a goal he'd been working towards for a long time. I was just grateful to be a part of it. </span><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After a brief summit celebration, we looked back on the long ridge and the reality of our day was just beginning to take shape. We weren't phased though. Our dopamine levels from finally reaching the summit were at all time highs. We began our descent with huge smiles and a new bond that only days like this in the mountains can create.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiATrYtekJiwBZT2unwqohVBeYhLBlNiVHBGp_5OReJtVcI_43wglLVOpWOi_l_I-8SvQmZiB2P_owDjd3bobWGy4e9f9Hna8cZSGdEQIC6lM9d5Xj-OKDiWAg5fi692MhXLkQn6X9GnNc/s1600/20200509_184232051_iOS.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiATrYtekJiwBZT2unwqohVBeYhLBlNiVHBGp_5OReJtVcI_43wglLVOpWOi_l_I-8SvQmZiB2P_owDjd3bobWGy4e9f9Hna8cZSGdEQIC6lM9d5Xj-OKDiWAg5fi692MhXLkQn6X9GnNc/s640/20200509_184232051_iOS.heic" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ali doing a little class 4 climbing on the way back across the ridge.</td></tr>
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Below is a video showing the intense exposure on this ridge</div>
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<br /><iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/LAEUwiJDR7E/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/LAEUwiJDR7E?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7sfKFve4ZILqQw_2zGw9_SFOptHO6eW1kbhqSKw5bxYbtl9jdBQ9ueXDKEX8H8aL_f15G_SA-9AwE9QZmJssr0p-PdBL5IwfFcEn9x_fO4Cf451c5VxAR140PygxQhzWRKO1C7JGRotk/s1600/20200509_192235812_iOS.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7sfKFve4ZILqQw_2zGw9_SFOptHO6eW1kbhqSKw5bxYbtl9jdBQ9ueXDKEX8H8aL_f15G_SA-9AwE9QZmJssr0p-PdBL5IwfFcEn9x_fO4Cf451c5VxAR140PygxQhzWRKO1C7JGRotk/s640/20200509_192235812_iOS.heic" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a SERIOUS no fall zone and the hand holds are small and not plentiful, but at least the rock here is solid.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Our descent was long, </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">arduous</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, and absolutely exhausting. We stopped several times. Both of us were nursing minor injuries and extreme fatigue that endless talus fields seem to do to a person. We were both rationing water too. I had started with 3 liters and was down to 1/3 of a liter by the time we reached the tree line on descent. If one were to try this route in summer, with the sun baking this ridge, you may need 4 or even 5 liters of water to sustain yourself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As a final "price of admission", or so I thought, I again slipped and fell into a cactus. My right hand landed directly on it. Thankfully I had a glove on, but I spent the next 15 minutes walking and picking needles out of my glove.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ali and I both were struggling with mental fatigue as 8pm came and went. Finally after 17 hours, we reached the Jeep at 9pm. While backing out of my parking spot back onto the narrow four-wheel drive road, I hit a big tree stump and ripped the side bumper off of my Jeep. This was the last "price of admission". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I still drove home content, with a smile.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">A disclaimer: There is some debate as to whether or not access to this route requires crossing private property or not. Some believe you can access this ridge via National Forest, others say you're trespassing on private property. Do your own research.</span>Adam Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496938386202233355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-29153874665181710122018-12-11T19:22:00.004-07:002018-12-11T19:22:59.760-07:00PCT: Post-hike reflections<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Five months have passed since I got off trail. How has my life changed? Here are some random highlights in no particular order...</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn3qBLZkvX-tlSlVFOGcbx5Tj7jgsbuVeAySVG2kqprX_crE9_R3H1TGU7G5pyKujLeYwYIVUBLrztkNQqy2V_DWSeyL7VgkK92UcAi5lTH34BWTdeAdzOgkqlqxMt6c0yuXIGERwlObU/s1600/20180607_183312060_iOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="1183" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn3qBLZkvX-tlSlVFOGcbx5Tj7jgsbuVeAySVG2kqprX_crE9_R3H1TGU7G5pyKujLeYwYIVUBLrztkNQqy2V_DWSeyL7VgkK92UcAi5lTH34BWTdeAdzOgkqlqxMt6c0yuXIGERwlObU/s640/20180607_183312060_iOS.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the many majestic views along the Pacific Crest Trail</td></tr>
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<ul>
<li>When I left for the PCT, I was unhappily married. After some clarity brought to me by being on the PCT, I'm now divorced and happily so. </li>
<li>When I first got off the PCT, I returned to a house that didn't feel like my home. I went into a very very dark depression during the time I was reluctantly staying there while I searched for a home to live in post-divorce. I was so depressed, lonely, and I missed my trail family dearly. I missed the simplicity of life on the trail. I missed the positive energy of the trail. I was actively considering suicide daily. Eventually the curtain started to fall on my old life. I bought a house, moved, visited my doctor for a medication tweak for my bipolar disorder, and light began returning to my life. I started getting outside again. I started playing music again. I started reaching out to friends again and I even began dating. I was determined to focus on the positive things in life again. I had overcome the post-trail depression which was probably made worse by my huge life changes upon coming home, bipolar disorder, etc. I finally escaped the darkness, but just barely.</li>
<li>When I got off the PCT, I could barely walk because my ankle hurt so bad. In October 2018, I received a platelet rich plasma (PRP) injection in my ankle from my orthopedic surgeon. It has worked wonders. I hike and/or ride my mountain bike on an average of four days a week. I have little or no pain now. I am even considering a return to the PCT in 2020, or maybe I'll bike the Colorado Trail in 2019.</li>
<li>I gained back all the weight I had lost on the PCT in a matter of weeks, thanks to an Oreo cookie addiction. That being said, I am still much stronger. I can go for a day hike for 14 miles and not even really feel like I've had a sufficient workout. </li>
<li>In my post-PCT depression, I burned some bridges I wish I hadn't. My PCT friend Ranger called me one day when I was laying on my dining room floor in my new place crying uncontrollably wishing I could just end the pain. I didn't answer the phone. I didn't know what to say. I haven't called him back since because I feel like I'd have to explain the long period of me being a jerk and not returning his call. I miss talking to him. I also burned a bridge with my trail friend Sleeping Beauty. She and I were good friends and mountaineering partners in Colorado before I hiked the PCT. On the PCT we had a few tough moments but we parted ways on a mostly positive note. We had a text message/email exchange during my deep depression and I pushed her away too, just like I had with Ranger. I've apologized to her via email since, but sometimes burned bridges can't be reconstructed. It's a painful lesson to learn, but a valuable one that I am determined not to repeat in the future.</li>
<li>Since the PCT, and over the last five months, I have grown into a better person. Honestly, I think a <i>much </i>better person. I have way more patience than I ever did prior to this hike. I am a more spiritual person in touch with my soul's purpose on this planet. I try to find the positive side in everything now. The PCT taught me that the stagnant water covered with bees, with a dead rodent floating in it, and a wild turkey simultaneously drinking and shitting in it is NOT a bad water source. It is instead a beautiful source of life, once treated and filtered of course. It's all perspective.</li>
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Here are the top five things I took away from the PCT and the aftermath. These points will forever be my mantra for life. <br /><ol>
<li><b style="font-weight: bold;">Live in the moment every day. </b>It sounds like a cliche, but it's so important. If you can't stop to enjoy what is happening right now, you will never have lived. You will have just existed and squandered opportunities to live while you planned, worried, second guessed yourself, etc. I urge you to focus on what's around you. Not your phone, not the TV... the <i>real </i>things; expressing yourself, conversation, the beauty of nature, your precious relationships, and educating yourself.</li>
<li><b>Treat everyone the way you want to be treated. </b> - My dad has said this to me and my siblings my entire life. But now, at age 44, I finally completely embrace this as a fundamental puzzle piece in my soul's purpose in life. With every interaction with others, I now I ask myself if I am interacting with the intent of love, fairness, and integrity. Or more easily put, I ask myself if I am treating others the way I want to be treated. If I can't definitively answer "YES" to that question, I stop and rethink what I am doing, maybe adjust my attitude, consider my response or the tone of what I am saying and ask myself that question again.</li>
<li><b>Let go of the anchors holding you down - </b>You can't grow inside if there's resentment, fear, shame, anger, or other negative emotions occupying the space in your heart needed to grow. As a very close friend said to me recently "..just let it out". Let it all out and allow yourself to heal, grow, and become a person you are happy with when you look at yourself. Now for a personal sidebar. I very recently talked about a traumatic incident from my childhood that I have never mentioned to anyone. As I talked, I cried and I cried hard. Each tear and each word freed me a little and left free space in my heart. I had no idea this incident even had that profound of an effect on my overall self until after I shared it. The emotions I bottled up had been subtly controlling me for the majority of my life. I can't encourage you enough to engage in this real talk with someone you care about and trust. And I mean this, if you are reading this, and you have no one, send me an email and I will make time to listen to your story. YOUR story is just as important as mine. </li>
<li><b>Happiness is only real when shared. - </b>Yes I stole this from the movie "Into the wild" because it's true. People are not meant to live isolated lives. While some solitude allows us time to focus internally at times, it's a fine line between solitude and loneliness. Loneliness is simply a feeling your soul is giving you telling you that you need to make changes. On the PCT, I discovered when I would get to a stunning vista, a beautiful alpine lake, or witness a glorious sunset, that I enjoyed these things so much more if I was with someone I cared about.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A magical sunrise on the Crestones in Colorado. Years later, I still wish someone was there to share this view with me.</td></tr>
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<li><b>Love is all that matters</b>. If you remember anything from this post, remember this. Love is all that matters. Everything else is a chasing of the wind. Whether that love is shared with a family, a trail family, a friend, a significant other, a child, a dog, or a pet chupacabra. It <i>is </i>all that matters. If you are ever looking for a "meaning" in your life, it probably starts with love and ends with love. Whether that meaning is giving your love to someone or something, learning how to accept being loved, teaching others how to live lovingly, creating art or music for others to love, etc. Or maybe, just maybe your purpose is to just love the person that <i>you </i>are. There are countless ways to bring love into your life. Start by smiling at the next person you see. You can change the world this way. Once you share your smile, someone else may share theirs. If everyone just smiled genuinely at each person they encountered each day, that love would change the planet. Go change the planet, <i>you </i>have the power to do that, as do I</li>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My daughter and I on Huron Peak several years ago. I love her so much.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Adam Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496938386202233355noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-72684691165971371512018-07-05T09:28:00.000-06:002018-07-05T09:28:08.024-06:00PCT - Day 69: 7/4/2018 - tough decision and true friends<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 9.1 from 1126.9 - 1136.0</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 16.5 (side trail & Reno bonus miles)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My ankle was in intense pain all night long. I barely slept at all and that’s after a Vicodin and an Advil PM. I decided at 5:00 am that enough was enough. I was getting off trail. My ankle was becoming a liability, and honestly hiking day after day in progressively worsening pain was not fun.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmRhi5C5E9sKFrlX8rEV70RtaBZaMV4DBTIZMyOfJxe2NnRvxn67DxXJj7Oq1CQmDpjUxMGJU9eRPG4sV-A2K-4mnAhrB7PQpobhbCcgVMVzUHfbmJaShHDvmlmmwabvLx4v5afTeb16P/s1600/2-sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmRhi5C5E9sKFrlX8rEV70RtaBZaMV4DBTIZMyOfJxe2NnRvxn67DxXJj7Oq1CQmDpjUxMGJU9eRPG4sV-A2K-4mnAhrB7PQpobhbCcgVMVzUHfbmJaShHDvmlmmwabvLx4v5afTeb16P/s640/2-sign.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I ate a few handfuls of granola and a Snickers bar while watching the sunrise. I cried numerous times today, but the tears that came with my final PCT sunrise were the most intense. My dream of completing this 2650 mile journey was coming to an end before I even reached the halfway point. My tears were not just from the broken dream. They were also for the great friends I would be saying goodbye to, and some that I would never get the opportunity to say goodbye to. My tears were also for the uncertain life circumstances that awaited me back in Colorado. But mostly my tears were for the love that I’d be missing; love that I felt daily from my trail family, trail angels, and the trail itself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I limped away from my final PCT campsite around 5:50 am. Ten minutes into my morning, I walked past where Opera and Tapeworm had camped the previous night. Apparently I had stopped .2 miles short of them last night.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was obvious to them that I was in a great deal of pain as I hobbled toward them. I told them I was going to get off trail because of my ankle problems. Tapeworm gave me a hug and I choked back some tears. Opera then gave me a hug and I couldn’t stop my tears when I saw that she had tears in her eyes too. I wished them well and walked away slowly while sobbing to myself and hiding behind my sunglasses.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">An hour later Opera and Tapeworm caught up to me. I had only covered about a mile in that first hour. I moved over to let them pass and they told me they were going to hike with me to make sure I made it out safely. Love filled my heart from this gesture, but I still felt guilty since they were having to slow down significantly to hike with me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We hiked up to a ridge that would ultimately lead to the Alpine Meadows Ski Area. We walked through beautiful fields of purple, blue, and yellow wildflowers. During our morning, we reminisced about good times we shared in the desert. Recalling these great memories was enjoyable yet it hurt too; since I knew I would no longer be out here creating those memories. I walked in front of the three of us sometimes laughing, sometimes crying silently. All the while they retold stories from earlier in our adventure.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdW9EPCUQ8Dd4RKLJaYCq6dFFIRChzOpnTi94Ql1c9ggCMS9PDu15UZxcXmrELHl2CUPcpJTHT5ZoZn9Rue8FtjdUg52_E6eL7_WdXqJe7H1VOTeI-1tB0aRahOZTW-eBPm3PN7O8Dc1ym/s1600/3-flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdW9EPCUQ8Dd4RKLJaYCq6dFFIRChzOpnTi94Ql1c9ggCMS9PDu15UZxcXmrELHl2CUPcpJTHT5ZoZn9Rue8FtjdUg52_E6eL7_WdXqJe7H1VOTeI-1tB0aRahOZTW-eBPm3PN7O8Dc1ym/s640/3-flowers.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3k5PTUry_UtxbVpygeiOprOVEA2zA9G704ma4FbvgZ8fnHB-G1gphauT-QvkLOeCoslu7qB_F4vVujZOCqtKKDThsmDfMYd_7vDvpqssBlb-H3si2n2ZhDv_ddpJF43MpRWA6flm57j2r/s1600/4-flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3k5PTUry_UtxbVpygeiOprOVEA2zA9G704ma4FbvgZ8fnHB-G1gphauT-QvkLOeCoslu7qB_F4vVujZOCqtKKDThsmDfMYd_7vDvpqssBlb-H3si2n2ZhDv_ddpJF43MpRWA6flm57j2r/s640/4-flowers.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We finally reached a creek where we refilled water. Opera asked a day hiker where the nearest trailhead was and learned there was a trailhead on Alpine Meadows Road about four miles away. I decided I would exit the PCT here.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg72H8ERZB-8ItuI0Kk9LRBAEt6tVxEMZR0xDCXiUhmydSpRYLJY_wh8vV17b88VMKeuBNAZ1D68gwSswVuVRAMS6f-pE0MyVzQ1ZxlqzTxlM8Qcjzq-P8ysR4d73yrTEdY5EsSMwhba8U_/s1600/5-view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg72H8ERZB-8ItuI0Kk9LRBAEt6tVxEMZR0xDCXiUhmydSpRYLJY_wh8vV17b88VMKeuBNAZ1D68gwSswVuVRAMS6f-pE0MyVzQ1ZxlqzTxlM8Qcjzq-P8ysR4d73yrTEdY5EsSMwhba8U_/s640/5-view.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We ate lunch while I soaked my swollen ankle in the cold creek. Tapeworm asked me if there was anything he could do for me. I handed him the picture of Jack that I’d been carrying and asked that he take the photo north, so Jack’s adventure could continue. He agreed and slipped the picture into a Ziploc bag and tucked it into his pack. This means the world to me as well as my brother’s family back in Massachusetts.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After lunch we hiked .1 mile to the Five Lakes Trail junction. Here I would head east to Alpine Meadows Road and they would continue north towards Canada. Tapeworm stopped and took his pack off and pulled out the remainder of a bottle of whiskey. The three of us stood there in the afternoon sun passing a Coke bottle full of Evan Williams whiskey back and forth until it was all gone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We then hugged again and this time I lost it. Tapeworm and Opera both in turn each said “I love you.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was choked up by this and could only get my failing voice to mumble an “I love you too.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I turned and started walking away with tears filling my eyes. I looked back only once, just in time to see them as they hiked out of sight.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hiked down that side trail lost in thought. Eventually I made it to Alpine Meadows Road and quickly got a hitch to highway 89. After another 20 minutes in the sun, I was picked up again and given a ride to I-80 in Truckee. I attempted to hitch to Reno for about 45 minutes before I finally just said “Fuck it” and paid another $88 for an Uber to Reno.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I checked into my free room at Harrahs, showered, did some laundry in the sink, and put on wet boxers and shorts. I then hobbled 1.5 miles to a Walgreens and back to buy a bag of jalapeño potato chips, some Mt Dew, and deodorant; which I assume the passengers on my flight home will appreciate on Friday.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I then made the mistake of eating at a sushi restaurant in the casino. The sushi sucked. It made day old gas station sushi seem like a good idea. Disappointed and still depressed about leaving trail, I stopped at a blackjack table on my slow walk back to my room. I turned a $100 into $300 in ten minutes, so I cashed out and decided to go put my glorious king size bed to good use. Hopefully my ankle would allow sleep tonight.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I’m planning on visiting my orthopedic surgeon next week. If there’s some miracle he can perform, I might be back. I do feel like that’s unlikely though. Either way, I truly enjoyed my 1100 miles or so and have memories that will last a lifetime. I also created connections to people that may necessitate new travel adventures all over the planet to keep in touch.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks to all of my blog readers, all the amazing trail angels, anyone who ever gave me a ride when I was hitchhiking, Siona for tirelessly helping with my resupply, my Dad for putting these blog posts together, and the wonderful people I work with for allowing me to embark on this crazy adventure in the first place.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The biggest thanks however goes to all the other PCT hikers. Each and every one of you shared your beautiful soul with me for hours, days, weeks, or months. Your smiles, our shared laughter, and our genuine love created a bond that made this adventure what it was. I love you all! I will never forget you.</span>Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-22937430748279725772018-07-04T14:29:00.000-06:002018-07-05T16:36:38.005-06:00PCT - Day 68: 7/3/2018 - Susie & a Bag of Dicks<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 25.3 from 1101.6 - 1126.9</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 25.6</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_uSSiqWsd2tOuk0xhg1bvlcLWAwzto9x5Qr70pA43sQnmLW8jx0VDF-d_sMSSLO-aRqkA1H9wjHRnlEEbx0W8-yxg21Fz6CcM5SPa9l9eW-6NyQo2q2eWrpLxwG2-UTlwzbWYy7ssTwl/s1600/1-flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_uSSiqWsd2tOuk0xhg1bvlcLWAwzto9x5Qr70pA43sQnmLW8jx0VDF-d_sMSSLO-aRqkA1H9wjHRnlEEbx0W8-yxg21Fz6CcM5SPa9l9eW-6NyQo2q2eWrpLxwG2-UTlwzbWYy7ssTwl/s640/1-flower.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was a hot night last night next to Susie, and as a result I didn’t sleep well. Susie is a lake by the way. I finally crawled out of my tent at 5:00 am. Two falcons dive-bombed me as I hunted for a private place to go to the bathroom. They buzzed my head a few times and were very vocal that my presence was not welcome. I assume this is for one of two reasons. Either, I was unknowingly walking near their nest. Or it could be, that they being falcons, are still bitter about blowing a 28-3 lead late in the third quarter of the Super Bowl. These birds must have seen my Boston Red Sox hat and just assumed I was also a New England Patriots fan.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2qtOl91TiGsVNxRAFAj3cf3_jo-wleEHMbIfMR-AiSj6JZRFSFCBoQ2lDxol0f0BJm-bjt_a_dkwj37hB1YYoqLpESXhzaUslL6nkRVz4H02OBzEFuJvIteQ5Riq88UGirz4uzPuwEV7b/s1600/2-dicks-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2qtOl91TiGsVNxRAFAj3cf3_jo-wleEHMbIfMR-AiSj6JZRFSFCBoQ2lDxol0f0BJm-bjt_a_dkwj37hB1YYoqLpESXhzaUslL6nkRVz4H02OBzEFuJvIteQ5Riq88UGirz4uzPuwEV7b/s640/2-dicks-lake.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was on the trail at 6:00 am, walking away and stealing a last look at Susie from above, but now my focus was on Dicks. Dicks is the name of a Pass and a lake, but it’s spelled Dicks, not Dick’s. This led me to wonder why this lake is named after dicks. It’s not shaped like a dick. I mean, Guitar Lake was shaped like a guitar, so I thought maybe Dicks Lake would be shaped like a bunch of dicks, or at least more than one dick since the name is the plural Dicks. Instead the lake is sort of shaped like a bag of dicks, but it’s not named “Bag of Dicks Lake”, just Dicks Lake. I met several southbound TRT (Tahoe Rim Trail) hikers walking away from Dicks and I would ask “Did you just come from Dicks?” I got a lot of weird looks for asking this question for some reason. Also, nobody could tell me why it wasn’t named “Bag of Dicks Lake”. Oh well, it’s a mystery.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thankfully the PCT skirted Dicks. It instead brought me right along the edge of a spectacular lake named Fontanillis. I don’t know what that word is, but I assume it’s related to dicks. After all, in a few miles I also walked along Blackwood Creek. Blackwood is certainly related to dicks.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMu33wJwiiWMr8arcAjbq25qx4EbSlmXSHy6pbYmavk0W3yD9gvz2WWo_xjcuL01P2iCAJ7QA92Uu0Zm9eYgGWaxHMPPx2hMWttf3YfA5xQOQUpAaXyC2HRCqcylWv-Xh8RRp5NdY4lj7/s1600/3-susie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1166" data-original-width="1555" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMu33wJwiiWMr8arcAjbq25qx4EbSlmXSHy6pbYmavk0W3yD9gvz2WWo_xjcuL01P2iCAJ7QA92Uu0Zm9eYgGWaxHMPPx2hMWttf3YfA5xQOQUpAaXyC2HRCqcylWv-Xh8RRp5NdY4lj7/s640/3-susie.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghC26iVakEuAs5ksoAC3D4qUt-EAbC6FtvyuRwKBLSBOXkv7HZirc76-1TFqiAPJMywMlTiSDuR7s63jxkQyWxtOYFG6y7XE-qjshO8hui8HML0UdrJOODSpKWrrRMgq3PwtlsOdeQd409/s1600/4-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghC26iVakEuAs5ksoAC3D4qUt-EAbC6FtvyuRwKBLSBOXkv7HZirc76-1TFqiAPJMywMlTiSDuR7s63jxkQyWxtOYFG6y7XE-qjshO8hui8HML0UdrJOODSpKWrrRMgq3PwtlsOdeQd409/s640/4-lake.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My ankle was really tender and painful all day. I had taken a Voltaren to start my day, and by 11:00 am, I needed to swallow a Vicodin just to be able to walk. I again ran the gauntlet of thoughts and emotions about possibly getting off trail due to my piece of shit ankle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was still making decent time though, and around 1:00 pm, I stopped a couple miles into the Desolation Wilderness to eat lunch. I had already covered nearly 17 miles. I elevated my ankle and foot like I do on all my breaks, and tried to nap, but my brain wanted to continue to hike. I wanted to try and knock out 25 or maybe 30 miles.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-9M9RjAbqlojfPjz-570SnLt9NJbnb9t-FotLbVpLiFI2XUL1-cI2DiUusSBBWgPApUvjkLQ80UHeqUfq2tLBt10l70v469ZW8u1_zto6o2hpBUtg8AHtyeqI4tUF_LrIp16Y-4YtH8E/s1600/5-trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-9M9RjAbqlojfPjz-570SnLt9NJbnb9t-FotLbVpLiFI2XUL1-cI2DiUusSBBWgPApUvjkLQ80UHeqUfq2tLBt10l70v469ZW8u1_zto6o2hpBUtg8AHtyeqI4tUF_LrIp16Y-4YtH8E/s640/5-trail.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Around mile 21, I knew I would not be doing 30. My ankle was screaming in pain. The pain only subsided briefly while I was chatting with a cute French woman from Paris who was hiking a section of the TRT. Another mystery from today is why do I get so worked up over girls with foreign accents? I know I’m not the only one this applies to either.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After I slogged a few more miles, I found a solo campsite overlooking Lake Tahoe in the distance. I was trying to catch up to Opera and Tapeworm but this view was too good to pass up, and my ankle desperately needed rest.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB86w3-JtV_Txh2kaA8hiGIzgPIpu7E69-JkKjw_Bn8qBs6Y-HNLoX0PNYOEWM6zbOi9IDNcqYTvOUnPOjXA1clywjH6oVrz5GXYlLpApyA-YuRrJ2TtrISC_5OI-Af0Ij9szkGAww2Ll1/s1600/7-campsite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB86w3-JtV_Txh2kaA8hiGIzgPIpu7E69-JkKjw_Bn8qBs6Y-HNLoX0PNYOEWM6zbOi9IDNcqYTvOUnPOjXA1clywjH6oVrz5GXYlLpApyA-YuRrJ2TtrISC_5OI-Af0Ij9szkGAww2Ll1/s640/7-campsite.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am going to try to do another 25 miles tomorrow in hopes of closing the gap between myself and Chilly Bin and Peanut Butter. If I wake up and my ankle is worse than today, I may have to make a tough decision on whether or not to continue and hike in severe pain all the time, or get off trail and let my dream of thru hiking the PCT die. That’s a decision I’ll delay for yet another day, like I have been doing for a few hundred miles now.</span>Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-60107592078422242582018-07-04T14:12:00.002-06:002018-07-05T16:36:55.530-06:00PCT - Day 67: 7/2/2018 - Back on the Trail<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 9.3 from 1092.3 - 1101.6</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 9.8</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I returned to the PCT today after spending eight days traveling and hanging out with my family in New England. I was hopeful that my unexpected time off trail would have at least served as good rest for my ailing right ankle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday I left my brother’s place in Fitchburg, MA around 3:15 pm ET. After a 75 minute drive to Boston, two flights, and an $88 Uber ride, I was curling up in a king size bed in a room at Harvey’s Lake Tahoe around 1:30am PT.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, I woke up around 6:00 am. After reading a bit, I showered and then checked out of my room. It was hard to leave the luxurious accommodations especially since my room was complimentary. I still get free rooms sometimes in Caesar’s owned casinos thanks to my reputation from my poker playing days.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Around 8:30 am, I was sitting in front of the office at the hostel awaiting the 9:00 am opening so I could get my resupply packages and stuff I had left there a week prior.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">While I was sitting there, Tapeworm and Opera walked downstairs. We hadn’t seen each other since Crabtree Meadows on June 4th. It was really great seeing my friends again and we shared a hug. Tapeworm informed me that I had missed Chilly Bin and Peanut Butter by no more than 30 minutes. This saddened me slightly since I was really looking forward to seeing them. Opera and Tapeworm hung out while I opened all my packages, which included a much needed new pair of shoes. Yay!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivgMm8IQUG_byi-5MQME2ahgnVsIKmFmtY08FMfoArMDUwjVkQbEB0yCGNCbXrVwI7kLv5a03fBICJyb_dEoIl2wcmSbnJwnv7y3kAuV8SGR5BACMzHRlxz8RxR3nzic1wghFUW81ICko6/s1600/1-opera-tapeworm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivgMm8IQUG_byi-5MQME2ahgnVsIKmFmtY08FMfoArMDUwjVkQbEB0yCGNCbXrVwI7kLv5a03fBICJyb_dEoIl2wcmSbnJwnv7y3kAuV8SGR5BACMzHRlxz8RxR3nzic1wghFUW81ICko6/s640/1-opera-tapeworm.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tapeworm & Opera</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After buying some fuel, eating, and shipping home my bounce box, we took an Uber to Echo Lake where we would pick up the PCT again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Echo Lake was mobbed with day hikers which added to my less than awesome feeling. I was struggling getting motivated and after an average $8 milkshake, I was really ready for a nap. Instead of a nap though, we began our hike at 2:30 pm in the hottest part of the day. Almost immediately I was sweating like a whore in church.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT31Ey0HBXiTuN81xo-9BNXBURmowGFaAUvaSGTxzzVTpXjoHueQuYFKiZKb1_ZNbCei2zOf6BkFyIY3HaEp67edr0bxf82I977fp9xfRxAnGU6bm81U-ko5s02L5QFwT5WEyF3E4jKeMy/s1600/2-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT31Ey0HBXiTuN81xo-9BNXBURmowGFaAUvaSGTxzzVTpXjoHueQuYFKiZKb1_ZNbCei2zOf6BkFyIY3HaEp67edr0bxf82I977fp9xfRxAnGU6bm81U-ko5s02L5QFwT5WEyF3E4jKeMy/s640/2-lake.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Echo Lake</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Within an hour I realized the eight days of rest did nothing for my ankle. It hurt as much as ever and felt unstable and weak to boot. I have self diagnosed my ankle problem as an anterior ankle impingement. I don’t believe there’s much that can be done.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">By the time we reached Lake Aloha, I was considering where I would be ending my hike since I think my ankle will continue to get worse with each day. This was one of a handful of reasons I was in a somber mood while taking in the views of this spectacular lake.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another reason for my somber mood was because I kept thinking about Jack. I now carry a picture of Jack in my backpack, which I took out at Lake Aloha so Jack could share the view. I kept wondering if Jack knew how much he is missed by his friends and family.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOAYTIufYEXwDlRvrnyyowbXibJJiZ2mespu1R-OSzWBkczciiRgfrKvUaigAM84Pkp4jvHpPGSiK2YZX6gpF62GDltSvINLE1_gvcrf1XYER1KKQjn4lxkiQ2QMjoPaXjo1HrDsdzI7a/s1600/3-jack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOAYTIufYEXwDlRvrnyyowbXibJJiZ2mespu1R-OSzWBkczciiRgfrKvUaigAM84Pkp4jvHpPGSiK2YZX6gpF62GDltSvINLE1_gvcrf1XYER1KKQjn4lxkiQ2QMjoPaXjo1HrDsdzI7a/s640/3-jack.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq7sDfhPDuSsqoE55rhJjdyTpId8DTt7vkV5KZdon2-8d8tABkbUEK8xy1mLfIvVOmu5JH1fnwSVIgYrRbfWb8zEH0rXqFxNPZ9quZ7hijWz_bYnM6AJVx2Glfxg4VMKfQQsnz84CkmZ8F/s1600/4-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq7sDfhPDuSsqoE55rhJjdyTpId8DTt7vkV5KZdon2-8d8tABkbUEK8xy1mLfIvVOmu5JH1fnwSVIgYrRbfWb8zEH0rXqFxNPZ9quZ7hijWz_bYnM6AJVx2Glfxg4VMKfQQsnz84CkmZ8F/s640/4-lake.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWbdknTO6-Y8jPFcDNZ8f1OEErGXxolJvQq_Jz4O4vNU0SVmACN38Jf7us89vyuNz5pLIfNbjuWNYFAgSfbV4QdojtMfjlCHZbu00yo6kuiTPiko_jqgatizIXPs5NkfwUc4xg6WSEfWCc/s1600/5-lake-far.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWbdknTO6-Y8jPFcDNZ8f1OEErGXxolJvQq_Jz4O4vNU0SVmACN38Jf7us89vyuNz5pLIfNbjuWNYFAgSfbV4QdojtMfjlCHZbu00yo6kuiTPiko_jqgatizIXPs5NkfwUc4xg6WSEfWCc/s640/5-lake-far.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I limped across the imaginary line at mile 1100 and stopped shortly after to get water.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeiqOCvo4mL5FSxpqb3etG4W1OWlxQ6kbPQ46RbwAHX-H-4MTrsrVoOxrRn79Rp8CPetU8bZHHjGW34WFyxrDvg9pMAbzAgCQ8iPnxAIW4NHl3KNBrZ2NufZZxhj5qoGw95Ryprt0rh2Ci/s1600/6-mile-1100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeiqOCvo4mL5FSxpqb3etG4W1OWlxQ6kbPQ46RbwAHX-H-4MTrsrVoOxrRn79Rp8CPetU8bZHHjGW34WFyxrDvg9pMAbzAgCQ8iPnxAIW4NHl3KNBrZ2NufZZxhj5qoGw95Ryprt0rh2Ci/s640/6-mile-1100.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mile 1100</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> While putting my water treatment bag away, a guy walked up who looked really familiar. It took me a second but my mouth dropped with surprise when I realized it was Paint Peeler! I hadn’t seen him since the town of Julian around mile 80 back on day five of my hike. Over a 1000 miles later there we were, talking and walking together like we’d been hiking together the whole time. This was really strange since earlier in the day, I had crossed paths with Surgeon and Mouse while buying fuel. I hadn’t seen them since Idyllwild. I learned that Paint Peeler had also been battling ankle problems in addition to a broken toe. His perseverance motivated me to continue rather than bailing on my hike even if it meant hiking with constant ankle pain. Paint Peeler stopped for the night around Heather Lake. I pushed onto Susie Lake where Opera and Tapeworm were waiting.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkR5CBPzBqb5zvSnubQ1HCIVbZn5x9ib-2Fi1Nby-LrdWVjTA8uhMMaXp86f5vWV-bD7TkaBfqIZ7tRL9lRYXUwKmB9teGc9pB-PJfIK-dLSh3NKk-PHPHbacfAQ3u-ca9VJ2vNK6KTd95/s1600/7-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkR5CBPzBqb5zvSnubQ1HCIVbZn5x9ib-2Fi1Nby-LrdWVjTA8uhMMaXp86f5vWV-bD7TkaBfqIZ7tRL9lRYXUwKmB9teGc9pB-PJfIK-dLSh3NKk-PHPHbacfAQ3u-ca9VJ2vNK6KTd95/s640/7-lake.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We ate dinner and shared laughs like old times. A little bottle of whiskey even made the way around our triangle. It was so heartwarming to be sitting in the dirt and eating with my friends again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After dinner, Tapeworm and Opera were busy rigging a bear bag hang as I took a short stroll and watched the final alpenglow fade on the mountains in the distance. I thought again of my nephew Jack. I thought of a few people that I wished I could share this moment with. Instead, I stood alone on the rocky hillside watching the last of the light fade to black. Then suddenly, that moment of my life was gone... shared with no one.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCdB7sZ-4g-M8HLRrIND0udq9GmOAafoyYMORYR3S2kQTwRyMcYjOOIKr2TQ9n95zTlDd2GEYiPcDklWd3RON8aVGO5S9hJp2W-YSqV4gr_gdvIrKsRB_xh1PavWh4wppkqnvB914EEx82/s1600/8-sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCdB7sZ-4g-M8HLRrIND0udq9GmOAafoyYMORYR3S2kQTwRyMcYjOOIKr2TQ9n95zTlDd2GEYiPcDklWd3RON8aVGO5S9hJp2W-YSqV4gr_gdvIrKsRB_xh1PavWh4wppkqnvB914EEx82/s640/8-sunset.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tomorrow may bring another moment similar to this, but then again, maybe not. Every single moment is precious. If everyone treated these moments as THE potential last moment, just imagine the powerful love we’d all share.</span>Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-18518421823834617452018-06-24T06:47:00.000-06:002018-06-24T06:47:44.031-06:00PCT - Day 66: 6/23/2018 - Help from Greg and Carolyn<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 13.7 from 1057.4 - 1071.1</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 18.1</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I received a call from my Dad while in my tent last night. He informed me that Jack passed away during surgery. I didn’t sleep much after that. That and there were multiple deer wandering around my campsite making me constantly have to inspect whether it was deer or a bear.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLh21AfCAHzYQxyCbPXeu_2gE3N3NAFOfC4uKlHDPaK0P94cC4B_wsers8ILAHSMmNQJGWCM6nS5PF4f6bKqOyk6EF0rS2HuajU8ygwApu04lUxI6yuBIdRxWvlyf3ppYj_lJjgJ6Lm8Z4/s1600/1-morning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLh21AfCAHzYQxyCbPXeu_2gE3N3NAFOfC4uKlHDPaK0P94cC4B_wsers8ILAHSMmNQJGWCM6nS5PF4f6bKqOyk6EF0rS2HuajU8ygwApu04lUxI6yuBIdRxWvlyf3ppYj_lJjgJ6Lm8Z4/s640/1-morning.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">From the time I woke up Jack was dominating my thoughts. I desperately wanted to be off trail and to be home with my family. I have no idea how to console someone with the sudden loss of a child or sibling. I was hiking with a heavy heart with tears flowing freely for much of the morning. Three times I simply dropped my trekking poles and sat in the middle of the trail and cried. The second time this happened I ran into the first hiker I saw all day. His dog was ahead of him and it walked up and started licking the tears from my face. The guy asked me if I was doing ok. I briefly explained to him what was going on and he then politely apologized for his dog and quietly walked away.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2o-oExc7dfFU4p0X9LdgGS-Ci3gILektdGiS1tAUEiQTSD03vNGCPepcEyVA57BA9Rkwyj3mlJYoyO1_ev07_6Wa5JN-PM1LDNOsk_RG9G6mYXDpd7Xc55AV01OzK9dUyE5HxzaC4GBIV/s1600/2-sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2o-oExc7dfFU4p0X9LdgGS-Ci3gILektdGiS1tAUEiQTSD03vNGCPepcEyVA57BA9Rkwyj3mlJYoyO1_ev07_6Wa5JN-PM1LDNOsk_RG9G6mYXDpd7Xc55AV01OzK9dUyE5HxzaC4GBIV/s640/2-sign.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn’t even really pay attention to the trail or the surroundings much today. About 7 miles into my day, I crossed Blue Lakes Road where I immediately got the idea of hitchhiking into South Lake Tahoe so I could accelerate getting to Reno for a flight to Boston. I tried hitchhiking for about ten minutes but only saw one car, which drove by and waved at me, but didn’t stop. I saw a couple other hikers a hundred yards down the road. I walked over and discovered they’d been hitchhiking for over an hour and had only seen three cars. They suggested I might have better luck getting to Tahoe by hitchhiking from Carson Pass which was another 11.1 miles north on the PCT. Just then, another car drove by, I stuck my thumb out and was again waved at as they drove by. It’s as if they were saying “I see you, but I’m not picking you up”. This angered me. I could have chucked a rock through this guy’s rear window as he drove by. Instead I stormed off and started hiking the 11.1 extra miles to Carson Pass.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW19-RGuURfBOT9oi1Hf5kfs68mW2aXAvH9gS9GHnH4BA1hJKF33St-HNLCk5RmXSAnu-RVDiOWXxq5sYwtacGQURwrjVYVy2DwvakSm9tWh2R_tFYjGy_c4hxzGZ4o5NwvAzyhXy3a0EK/s1600/3-flowers1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1600" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW19-RGuURfBOT9oi1Hf5kfs68mW2aXAvH9gS9GHnH4BA1hJKF33St-HNLCk5RmXSAnu-RVDiOWXxq5sYwtacGQURwrjVYVy2DwvakSm9tWh2R_tFYjGy_c4hxzGZ4o5NwvAzyhXy3a0EK/s640/3-flowers1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I took pictures of flowers as I went to calm myself down. The Chesse-Burg-Er birds gave me audible hugs with their song. I hiked with a purpose only focusing on my foot placement, yet I still tweaked my ailing ankle another two times in a five mile stretch. While climbing a steep hill above the Lost Lakes, I passed numerous ponds where the mosquitoes tried to use my ears like secret passageways, as if my head was a game of Ms. Pac-Man.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiomWsL-CTPTlOaCLskpAG35MqJF9NPuTCswKJZEunVlLXGQvUJ7pPMyHWuVvhWIOxsIbzCN5Kxl7HIZuv8k_LLwVK3em45v-EmEO9Yzq1v1oB79MVaXM1i2RhVLvumzgeqXPrgd2uDWXg8/s1600/4-flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiomWsL-CTPTlOaCLskpAG35MqJF9NPuTCswKJZEunVlLXGQvUJ7pPMyHWuVvhWIOxsIbzCN5Kxl7HIZuv8k_LLwVK3em45v-EmEO9Yzq1v1oB79MVaXM1i2RhVLvumzgeqXPrgd2uDWXg8/s640/4-flowers.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was so hot, and I was in mission-mode. I refused to even stop to drink water. After a few hours my body began shutting down from lack of hydration and food. I still refused to stop until I intersected with a Jeep road in hopes of scoring a ride to town from a weekend warrior. Twenty minutes later, I sat in a small patch of shade at this intersection of a 4x4 road and the PCT. It was almost 2:00 pm. I ate a snack and drank some water. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-d8Mn4ZilY7waSWvEoM_1PdaspeZIihl3SQRojdb9c016wvgMzC4gWRz6n04fAteiaHVHj6IZvBCXuAwvdIYl5Kl9lAxPomqDAH_RrgjIHZsA0RpLXj8nGUyAXjmmHqk7C4G4Wjrp3FZ/s1600/5-trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-d8Mn4ZilY7waSWvEoM_1PdaspeZIihl3SQRojdb9c016wvgMzC4gWRz6n04fAteiaHVHj6IZvBCXuAwvdIYl5Kl9lAxPomqDAH_RrgjIHZsA0RpLXj8nGUyAXjmmHqk7C4G4Wjrp3FZ/s640/5-trail.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I was cooling down, I caught some movement from the 4x4 road. A young couple was walking in my direction. As they approached, I asked if they knew any place closer to potentially hitch from in order to get into Tahoe. They reiterated what I already knew... Carson Pass. I explained why I was asking and thanked them. They walked off, but quickly returned and offered to drive me to South Lake Tahoe. I graciously accepted this offer and offered gas money which they refused. We introduced ourselves and this is how I met Greg and Carolyn. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">These two were the most kindhearted people I’d met in 1071 miles. We hiked two miles on the dirt road towards their truck. We were heading back south at a lower elevation from the direction I’d just come from earlier. We took a short detour to see the Lost Lakes since that was one of their objectives in the first place. We talked a bit but also hiked in silence that under most circumstances would have been awkward. Today that silence was like the silence a couple of good friends can share without it being uncomfortable.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJWaxGjWkpR4HgCgmMixAuSv3oxpqNYpRc3qxh-mdaQXK_fZoFKbMpFAGWO48LOw4sxocAH4EcsptugYzOoGoSo1hV-Tl4lkc0LtMAi-Ttekv5gigMRgiq8U4GqY8C_N-JSm0gVRLlwKJ5/s1600/7-lake2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJWaxGjWkpR4HgCgmMixAuSv3oxpqNYpRc3qxh-mdaQXK_fZoFKbMpFAGWO48LOw4sxocAH4EcsptugYzOoGoSo1hV-Tl4lkc0LtMAi-Ttekv5gigMRgiq8U4GqY8C_N-JSm0gVRLlwKJ5/s640/7-lake2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">They drove me about an hour to South Lake Tahoe. Once I received a cell signal on our drive, I was trying to coordinate my travel plans and chatting with family. Greg and Carolyn were very understanding. They dropped me at the hostel and I hugged them and thanked them profusely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I went into the hostel explained my situation and they informed me that they were sold out and I couldn’t stay the night. They did give me a free beer and offered me a “day use” which included a shower for $10. I took this offer knowing I needed to shower before boarding a plane. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">While I was in the hostel lobby, Carolyn poked her head in and just said “We’re taking you to Reno.” This made my already fragile emotional state just crumble. I could’ve hugged Carolyn for ten minutes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ziploc was also at the hostel when I arrived, and she knew of what happened with Jack. She was great and offered to help in any way possible. After a hug that kept my tears going, she ran to get me a couple things from the store while I showered and stripped my pack of anything TSA would bitch about (trekking poles, knife, tent poles & stakes, fuel, etc.). All the while, Greg and Carolyn waited patiently for me to get my shit together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I was readying to leave, I realized I would likely never see Ziploc again. I gave her a big hug and my heart was again broken. This time it was with the idea that I’d probably never see my amazing German friend again. Ziploc and I clashed a lot because we both have strong personalities, but in the end, I really enjoyed her company even if I never had a chance of keeping up with her when hiking with her. By the time I get back to trail, she will be 200+ miles in front of me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After Ziploc and I shared a teary and emotional goodbye, Greg and Carolyn drove me 90 minutes in traffic to Reno’s airport. I had reluctantly accepted that I’d be spending a long night at the airport since every single hotel in Reno and South Lake Tahoe was sold out thanks to numerous weekend events. When they dropped me off, I gave Greg and Carolyn hugs that expressed my deepest gratitude. Thanks to them, soon I’ll be able to share hugs with my family in Massachusetts. These two angels were empathetic, classy, and truly amazing; just the kind of character Jack was. </span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">~ For those that follow this blog closely, my return flight to Reno is on 7/2. I hope to make it back to the PCT sometime on 7/3. Until then, this blog will be going dark. Thank you for your understanding. ~</span>Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-454657319827944122018-06-23T06:38:00.000-06:002018-06-23T07:50:12.847-06:00PCT - Day 65: 6/22/2018 - Trail Angels and Sad News<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 21.2 from 1036.2 - 1057.4</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 22.9</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4J6t5WmCuy35Vbjemwab3iw5zY3fzcW-9D9ahDH0gXA6PhJ4hO1CWErqeGN25fvzaKrqQaEoT-HW6FoC7Mz1ZlSzMNVpHYse9VltqHhIlE0_JCiXREfAhRZQ-t64209G8gP1kXZpKEVE7/s1600/1-morning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4J6t5WmCuy35Vbjemwab3iw5zY3fzcW-9D9ahDH0gXA6PhJ4hO1CWErqeGN25fvzaKrqQaEoT-HW6FoC7Mz1ZlSzMNVpHYse9VltqHhIlE0_JCiXREfAhRZQ-t64209G8gP1kXZpKEVE7/s640/1-morning.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What a roller coaster of emotions today. This day was a day of dreams becoming reality, but also nightmares coming to fruition.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">First, I’ll let the readers know that this post is going to be difficult to digest. Maybe don’t read this one at the office.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The morning started like most mornings on the trail. I woke up at 5:30 am and immediately pulled my hood down to block the light and went back to sleep until 6:40 am. After packing up my brand new tent (which is awesome), I was on the trail at 7:15 am and clicking off miles pretty quickly. The trail took me through a forest and past a meadow or two, some creeks, and a lake or two.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7maO2ZN9amgC58zS36ALJSc3SpfVahBcEvLFoZe1Sn_fG7o59b587PS49YlH-H5ngS07dGjGB6OtAu_twvxOz2X4FiEwsAj4nmgUmQA6mYRLEQpHi-mTSbgRvY4xoCFnwrz3NW-BVFzE/s1600/3-lakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7maO2ZN9amgC58zS36ALJSc3SpfVahBcEvLFoZe1Sn_fG7o59b587PS49YlH-H5ngS07dGjGB6OtAu_twvxOz2X4FiEwsAj4nmgUmQA6mYRLEQpHi-mTSbgRvY4xoCFnwrz3NW-BVFzE/s640/3-lakes.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">During my morning hike, I grabbed a few jelly beans from a bag of jelly beans and looked in my hand and there was a jelly bean flower. I assume this flower is for my wife who is nice enough to remove all the black jelly beans before sending me these in a resupply box.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRNJ-GX3AuRdkJETViXNXG8NT_gltyMmI0DNyHKkZX59EMU8JXsqQDolmBHkrF58o5a-2JuTUMKFnYtHTIEAAqXWLfjv5qAXq9HpK7_3mXqi0EcBKqmQLWOb0mveCwSQSVwOLXYk4IMoPw/s1600/2-jelly-beans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1210" data-original-width="907" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRNJ-GX3AuRdkJETViXNXG8NT_gltyMmI0DNyHKkZX59EMU8JXsqQDolmBHkrF58o5a-2JuTUMKFnYtHTIEAAqXWLfjv5qAXq9HpK7_3mXqi0EcBKqmQLWOb0mveCwSQSVwOLXYk4IMoPw/s640/2-jelly-beans.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jellybean flower</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had stopped on a ridge to upload content for my blog when Mermaid showed up. I’d met her only once or twice before and each encounter was brief. This time we hiked together and talked for a few miles. The conversation flowed well but eventually she and a friend of hers named Raven, who’d caught up with us, turned on the jets to make it to trail magic. Text messages from people in front of us confirmed rumors of “trail magic deluxe!” at highway 4.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The last two miles before the trail magic, my ankle was really bad. I was in a lot of pain and I limped into the trail magic at Ebbetts Pass. My bad mood from the ankle troubles suddenly vanished.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAW7uOdLx3JA0bcrHOUSmeut4M5rRPsTc5SKMPR0YiH1ZNGfQHCGQBV5osaDRJj6wMjtqjclbPU7G9CM15VGjp7yCKTbdXoXUJXf6M6uz5VP5sG9re5kgzSf_ArdxT2ZAGhgRj9d9-khqw/s1600/5-majic-sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAW7uOdLx3JA0bcrHOUSmeut4M5rRPsTc5SKMPR0YiH1ZNGfQHCGQBV5osaDRJj6wMjtqjclbPU7G9CM15VGjp7yCKTbdXoXUJXf6M6uz5VP5sG9re5kgzSf_ArdxT2ZAGhgRj9d9-khqw/s640/5-majic-sign.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trail Magic Ahead</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This trail magic was like nothing I’d ever seen. Multiple trail angels tended to each hiker. They saw I was limping and before I knew it I was sitting in a chair with a ziploc bag full of ice on my ankle. Then I was ASKED... “Pizza or Burger?” I looked at their setup and they had a grill AND a pizza oven!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I of course went with the pizza option and while it was being baked, I feasted on a banana, cookies, potato chips, and a caramel covered brownie. I washed this and the amazing pizza down with three sodas.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW9-vrEO1s00s2ol8T1Kmz8zlgBl3xk1exu7qcOuw-i8IdCWMcb5152S6uJvjyHcv1ROiprtZUnELleQ6AiPMcwO9RK9uyVCsEmnIer6JZg7C_bY5g-aUKnoMqQS0eA0yqEXg7BlEc6OTM/s1600/4-hiker-majic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1210" data-original-width="907" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW9-vrEO1s00s2ol8T1Kmz8zlgBl3xk1exu7qcOuw-i8IdCWMcb5152S6uJvjyHcv1ROiprtZUnELleQ6AiPMcwO9RK9uyVCsEmnIer6JZg7C_bY5g-aUKnoMqQS0eA0yqEXg7BlEc6OTM/s640/4-hiker-majic.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The trail magic is run by two guys named Alan and Tim. They are dedicated and they’ve even branded a van with the name “Limit Situation Trail Magic”. These trail angels are so generous (like all the trail angels we meet). When I asked why they do it, Alan’s response nearly brought me to tears, because it did bring him to tears. He said he does it because it’s one of the truest ways to connect with people. He said the hikers he feeds and treats like kings and queens are truly grateful. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh543DD17U3WMcTPdoMBhyphenhyphenB0nu_olB97q3W3n2e6Wmlj6e0pfSY6G-8BID5l8Mmrwy6m4qhLYkfRERVK8GqOQJS6i0gsomeo3fJUtU0bg51CGoXk9FUt-7-A-hiiLuXjg6uc8MOlr-8msHS/s1600/6-majic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh543DD17U3WMcTPdoMBhyphenhyphenB0nu_olB97q3W3n2e6Wmlj6e0pfSY6G-8BID5l8Mmrwy6m4qhLYkfRERVK8GqOQJS6i0gsomeo3fJUtU0bg51CGoXk9FUt-7-A-hiiLuXjg6uc8MOlr-8msHS/s640/6-majic.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hikers and Angels Connecting</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He also noted that the time hikers spend lounging at his setup is quality time where hikers and the trail angels get to really connect with one another without interruptions of cell phones, etc. I have the utmost respect and gratitude for Alan and his huge heart. Guys like him restore faith in humanity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After spending over three hours just hanging out with Scuzi, Spiceman, Raven, Mermaid, Pants, and others I was the first to depart at 4:15 pm, knowing my ankle would give me some trouble and I still wanted to hike another 6-8 miles. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQp7BohayXr2C-OM7xXu6gYoODH9OIVMH6-Ml14zXvrR3G9B-BCicmh_dORVg_i7ENuEheIEhnHyhmuqyoNIr_DGsbnKzitmGAc7bZXW_3Hbo8rtA3hVDd-3gJXs1awwhJy45yhRVbn-t/s1600/7-cliffs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQp7BohayXr2C-OM7xXu6gYoODH9OIVMH6-Ml14zXvrR3G9B-BCicmh_dORVg_i7ENuEheIEhnHyhmuqyoNIr_DGsbnKzitmGAc7bZXW_3Hbo8rtA3hVDd-3gJXs1awwhJy45yhRVbn-t/s640/7-cliffs.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZP9jexcn99dbgHzdIis2ns4lX2CBCSnK6BD0zIxU9VpxHht4Swb6eOdb7cJVQMf2XM0QVKJiUZZgNJXmyMqc2sjn-UK2X-8C-FHvxoKTDOalOF92gmXZ1jRRolbmp47SCkEBTmXl9FDl/s1600/8-trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZP9jexcn99dbgHzdIis2ns4lX2CBCSnK6BD0zIxU9VpxHht4Swb6eOdb7cJVQMf2XM0QVKJiUZZgNJXmyMqc2sjn-UK2X-8C-FHvxoKTDOalOF92gmXZ1jRRolbmp47SCkEBTmXl9FDl/s640/8-trail.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I ended up hiking almost 10 more miles through terrain that resembled parts of Colorado. Aspens, wildflowers, and conglomerate rock dominated the afternoon’s trail. As daylight was waning, I finally exited a canyon and found a tent site.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzuW1PLZtVUk3zOsMp6vw_JWaDCfTK54K6l8jxoQbiD1ZmWeX2If9bkx7AEE34pJgj9icM4wsJdqDZYGsfF09rgzTRDv9ljyAyf4Sr-w-6ug1i8-Ca5Oes1dz_RcTgg-RC1xAR4RrinKEA/s1600/9-evening-light.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzuW1PLZtVUk3zOsMp6vw_JWaDCfTK54K6l8jxoQbiD1ZmWeX2If9bkx7AEE34pJgj9icM4wsJdqDZYGsfF09rgzTRDv9ljyAyf4Sr-w-6ug1i8-Ca5Oes1dz_RcTgg-RC1xAR4RrinKEA/s640/9-evening-light.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This was right as the sun was setting. Before I even started settling up my tent, I took my phone out of airplane mode and that’s when my day took another drastic turn.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilwqsfMS56RpY8AEdGtVasM_uAsbrBUlb-nt1uPu42NbbbHySo9n7Fj1om4ggEIQnPYImdFYevPmgEF7zrFf5-E6iyNLD7XNssqMVRHFJ8hkg8jQt2tSeEhpdogAm8QEtl78nrJYLF4xQ9/s1600/11-sunset1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilwqsfMS56RpY8AEdGtVasM_uAsbrBUlb-nt1uPu42NbbbHySo9n7Fj1om4ggEIQnPYImdFYevPmgEF7zrFf5-E6iyNLD7XNssqMVRHFJ8hkg8jQt2tSeEhpdogAm8QEtl78nrJYLF4xQ9/s640/11-sunset1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SdcQvj5vjf-337YijS_Ds5EMdifrD-H99uPe9phARsM4bpFAeI8Y5mQr3Lg53BGdwJyh89dx7kI1AW6x_3rT4n5uC7tEE-rjiwm63-PwbslVevPxfY3ZkVCe0a6t8Uggz47vw6z5fXTc/s1600/10-campsite-new-tent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SdcQvj5vjf-337YijS_Ds5EMdifrD-H99uPe9phARsM4bpFAeI8Y5mQr3Lg53BGdwJyh89dx7kI1AW6x_3rT4n5uC7tEE-rjiwm63-PwbslVevPxfY3ZkVCe0a6t8Uggz47vw6z5fXTc/s640/10-campsite-new-tent.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Tent</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I learned from my brother Chris that my nephew Jack had been in a very bad motorcycle accident tonight. He was airlifted to a hospital in Boston and apparently he had to be revived a few times en route. I dropped to the ground and wept after hanging up the phone. I called my other brother Eric and he answered. He was at the hospital waiting for Jack to emerge from surgery. I felt helpless. There was nothing I could say or do. Eric was emotional as any parent would be in this situation and he told me what I could do was say a prayer since I, being in the mountains, was probably closer to God than anyone else in our family at the moment. After crying on the phone with Eric, I sat in the dirt while watching the alpen glow from the sunset and uttered my first prayer in twenty years. I prayed aloud for Jack to pull through this and make a full recovery.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvjccn2rMkfcC-uPy9PpBg7-g7t9Sb4nFSlqm8TuF-U8k0khZwxBwFn6cbYicNDmSf2_xa5Bt7n7z5a3Sq1g_GK5IpIhgU7ZtuaO0m4oZrsjxjsNP3WSm8Z17beglqS0U510umnCGRPFC/s1600/12-sunset2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvjccn2rMkfcC-uPy9PpBg7-g7t9Sb4nFSlqm8TuF-U8k0khZwxBwFn6cbYicNDmSf2_xa5Bt7n7z5a3Sq1g_GK5IpIhgU7ZtuaO0m4oZrsjxjsNP3WSm8Z17beglqS0U510umnCGRPFC/s640/12-sunset2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I then cried some more while doing routine hiker chores like treating water, making dinner, and setting up my tent. While cooking, I was staring off into the twilight and a huge buck trotted right by about 20 feet in front of me. He had an enormous rack and stopped for 2 seconds in front of me, looked at me, and then trotted off. I like to think it was a positive sign for Jack. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also learned tonight that HoosierDaddy is getting off trail at South Lake Tahoe and heading home due to some medical problems. That guy was a class act and I’m certain this breaks his heart. I just wish I could give him a hug and tell him what a great friend I think he is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tonight, I lie awake wondering how the surgery is going and waiting for any message or phone call. Thus far it’s almost two hours after hiker midnight and I’ve heard nothing. It’s almost 2:00 am now in Boston.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This morning I would have done anything to be rid of this ankle pain. Tonight I’d hike another 1600 miles to Canada with this pain or worse if it meant that Jack recovers from this.</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">Editorial update from Adam's Dad: It is with a heavy heart that I write this update. At 2:13 am (Boston time) just after Adam sent this email for me to post, I got a call from Eric and found out that Jack had passed away due to injuries from the accident. I called Adam and updated him. He plans to hike to South Lake Tahoe as soon as he can. He then expects to fly to Massachusetts to be with his family in this time of sorrow. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA3_1supMudQEeYwPw47VZ2EPm2UN9K9l1h5-exbEOGsdLdYaVsIumnJ6KnbtV6ERPwaPzcYugQU3OSspu3n6X0FZ9Lx4xATV9NzfwyWtimhib4XZwQL4VbVwxDZ0NhanTyr_0tbHFYY07/s1600/jack-cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="449" data-original-width="272" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA3_1supMudQEeYwPw47VZ2EPm2UN9K9l1h5-exbEOGsdLdYaVsIumnJ6KnbtV6ERPwaPzcYugQU3OSspu3n6X0FZ9Lx4xATV9NzfwyWtimhib4XZwQL4VbVwxDZ0NhanTyr_0tbHFYY07/s320/jack-cropped.jpg" width="193" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RIP Jack Wilbur 1997 - 2018</td></tr>
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Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-20736751701668332352018-06-22T12:27:00.000-06:002018-06-22T12:27:30.490-06:00PCT - Day 64: 6/21/2018 - Zombie hiking, random thoughts, and Ant Power<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 19.3 from 1016.9 - 1036.2</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 20.5</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiVurORjiemCJKocuYxPzYMVAY1wO8kF2Yw5EKcoJc2X2TNT8h_DKO2L8u9ygEKZFj2q-hoV0J5yp6xgl-mO1V7ptRHU-tPlN8KAXb673JjgnNVc-rusETQQg_8dDI_b1VTQj6enW04I2J/s1600/8-trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiVurORjiemCJKocuYxPzYMVAY1wO8kF2Yw5EKcoJc2X2TNT8h_DKO2L8u9ygEKZFj2q-hoV0J5yp6xgl-mO1V7ptRHU-tPlN8KAXb673JjgnNVc-rusETQQg_8dDI_b1VTQj6enW04I2J/s640/8-trail.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yes today was the international “hike naked” day. I didn’t see anyone participating unfortunately.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">$35 at Kennedy Meadows North gets a shower, laundry, and a bed in a dorm. After drinking a lot of beer and wine I barely even woke up at 2:00 am when the generator turned on for some unknown reason. When it did, our room was lit up with bright light. I slept through that, but woke up at 4:45 am for no reason and never really got back to sleep.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We ate breakfast and Dan, the bartender from the saloon, gave us a ride to the trailhead. It took me a while to get into hiking mode. I felt like just taking a nap for much of the day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hiked by myself all day and barely talked to anyone for longer than a minute or so. I really miss my trail family from the pre-Sierra days. It was nice to have lunch with people on occasion. Now I’m often finding myself in zombie hiking mode listening to music.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg61mSREmLD0LbV5BmDSRKYeIp2bO9NTcdpuO5ZBqWD3cfy6TM2UyBlXE7aiskGtWJQmMPRH7Pqzk88e04BrIek7GFpy4Sw9yAIQFvkza57SSZ67YYCIinKLNe1jk-OigfNUCfpUFSgjT_d/s1600/1-mountains.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg61mSREmLD0LbV5BmDSRKYeIp2bO9NTcdpuO5ZBqWD3cfy6TM2UyBlXE7aiskGtWJQmMPRH7Pqzk88e04BrIek7GFpy4Sw9yAIQFvkza57SSZ67YYCIinKLNe1jk-OigfNUCfpUFSgjT_d/s640/1-mountains.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The day started with a climb up over 10,500 feet. The views along this part of today’s hike were great but not as picturesque as the Sierra. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkImsLVfiF8-uBvFgxgxGh5knxY_3ug_wjcjEWpoIafyk_S83GLHT9FtcMsdm_PCgZTJK3e_5fIVzWyPzveQKXTGe8kKC0eCvc3TZxdxAyx9YMuqghZO9QOUud6YNWMijZL8e77PYX5FDA/s1600/2-mountain-thru-rocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkImsLVfiF8-uBvFgxgxGh5knxY_3ug_wjcjEWpoIafyk_S83GLHT9FtcMsdm_PCgZTJK3e_5fIVzWyPzveQKXTGe8kKC0eCvc3TZxdxAyx9YMuqghZO9QOUud6YNWMijZL8e77PYX5FDA/s640/2-mountain-thru-rocks.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I would have given up these views to not have to deal with more snow. On the north side, when I started descending, the trail was difficult to locate in all the snow. This made for some slow going, postholing, and route finding until I finally found a trail again.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil14-q5doQdyhJza3a_w25fbz68Rn3ztaWJATCZF18Cq6wYj_rJKnNgawDjND5_WJcAAi1cuCzEXE0ohyqzkUJLLU_N9018glZHqoHR3JdFZy18oVQg5OHv7Zhn0WUwgFejudDEo_NnTTe/s1600/3-snow-field.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil14-q5doQdyhJza3a_w25fbz68Rn3ztaWJATCZF18Cq6wYj_rJKnNgawDjND5_WJcAAi1cuCzEXE0ohyqzkUJLLU_N9018glZHqoHR3JdFZy18oVQg5OHv7Zhn0WUwgFejudDEo_NnTTe/s640/3-snow-field.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had started on the trail shortly after 8:30 am. By noon I’d only covered about 7 miles. I sat down and ate lunch by a creek and spent half my lunch break swatting flies. I was intrigued at the power of one ant, when it began dragging away a dead fly body.</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzVrbcEXVCcY6QJPEfl9bn7BZqsgCJilVOeUC1tueNPD1PgB0lDuTAxkBMTytXsD6uRYO5xt4tWpjH5-0qaGw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another random thought I had at lunch is wouldn’t it be cool to know the history behind every log you seen on the forest floor? Was it wind? Was it heavy snow? Was it bark beetles? When did this tree become a log? Was anyone ever around to see this?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also thought about how the trail teaches us to not delay saying things to those we care about. It’s entirely possible a hiker you’re friends with and hanging out with for weeks can suddenly be ahead or behind you. Without cell signals for the majority of the time, sometimes you don’t even know. The point is, if you want to communicate how important another person is to you, do it now. I think this is a good principle to apply to off-trail life too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As an example, I know a guy who was not super close to his father. There were conversations that were always delayed and feelings never openly communicated. Then one day the father died of a heart attack and those unsaid things died too and left a hole in that guy’s heart for a long time. The point is, express yourself. It’s good to live with no regrets.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After lunch, I zombie-hiked through the noticeable heat wave, which appropriately showed up on the first day of summer. I hiked through the forest up very steep hills and down muddy slopes. One of these muddy slopes got the best of me and I went for a 10 foot slide on my rear end. My freshly laundered shorts, now covered in mud.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjai7TeEB5zOwUir4FO8zudpy4ST8elnffo0_pdG9y3Az15iTyqHcIs6EV3evEktH52sgPXNc8urM-d-h5jjO1uGQZFFf9V4TxUiYvJRZ8dN92ubTb0_9JWtT0oSmR0tlbmuQBs7x8sUtYp/s1600/5-creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1555" data-original-width="874" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjai7TeEB5zOwUir4FO8zudpy4ST8elnffo0_pdG9y3Az15iTyqHcIs6EV3evEktH52sgPXNc8urM-d-h5jjO1uGQZFFf9V4TxUiYvJRZ8dN92ubTb0_9JWtT0oSmR0tlbmuQBs7x8sUtYp/s640/5-creek.jpg" width="358" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNxH7amyXeLvxKRkN-h3jEaFoEvN8V_NU6PZvtwZKIg4deTCUdzggFnfplmXTmgInEy0D4xabZrcsu-KaBrDyjHvdkGyHtDDUCsfWrQZdNnYhz36UWu0TU7N1g9uZwHw6c-fJteSffnnny/s1600/6-field.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNxH7amyXeLvxKRkN-h3jEaFoEvN8V_NU6PZvtwZKIg4deTCUdzggFnfplmXTmgInEy0D4xabZrcsu-KaBrDyjHvdkGyHtDDUCsfWrQZdNnYhz36UWu0TU7N1g9uZwHw6c-fJteSffnnny/s640/6-field.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My ankle was not good, but not the worst it’s been either. The outside of my left knee is now starting to bother me. Likely an issue caused by compensating for my shitty right ankle. That being said my main issue today was simply lack of sleep. I stopped and took a 30 minute nap on the ground at 3:30 pm. I woke up feeling better and hiked another 8 miles before settling up camp at a tent site in the forest. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-v3YgpkEIzdvXGPwR6kPOy9SpFsNgIVEwRkTwOWeGlBU-T4vs2Bu0EhF3ocauUB35Reul2IrDj2cwjdHUtptSOQD0h9M6mO_Y9VyWxPzo0RsDIYyK9V0RopRPAHBlqYKofo1spgd7Xwhy/s1600/7-campsite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-v3YgpkEIzdvXGPwR6kPOy9SpFsNgIVEwRkTwOWeGlBU-T4vs2Bu0EhF3ocauUB35Reul2IrDj2cwjdHUtptSOQD0h9M6mO_Y9VyWxPzo0RsDIYyK9V0RopRPAHBlqYKofo1spgd7Xwhy/s640/7-campsite.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">campsite</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I’m camped by myself for the ?fourth? night in a row. I like the quiet that comes with sleeping in a campsite alone. I do however miss sharing good conversation over dinner. Tonight while eating I wondered again where Chilly Bin was since I think she’s the closest person from my trail family that’s behind me. She was one of my favorite people to hike with since she and I often hiked at the same pace and had good talks and good humor. I miss her singing too. I hope she catches me before I leave South Lake Tahoe next week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I plan on getting to town on Sunday, and then taking two zero days. I plan on using one of my zero days to just play poker at a casino and rest my legs. The other zero day is likely involving a pool, a hot tub, Jessica Alba (in my dreams), and a few cold IPAs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Since this blog post was merely a collection of random thoughts, here’s one last one. I really miss is watching Red Sox games with my wife while sitting on the couch with my two huskies, drinking a Firestone Union Jack and eating my homemade mashed potato pizza topped with mushrooms, red onion, fresh basil, and andouille sausage. I must hike faster to make it home in time for the playoffs.</span>Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-69018878580713160992018-06-21T08:28:00.000-06:002018-06-21T08:28:02.560-06:00PCT - Day 63: 6/20/2018 - Kennedy Meadows North, new friends, best friends<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 6.7 from 1010.2 - 1016.9</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 7.7</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I woke up at 5:15 am to catch a sunrise and then promptly went back to sleep for two hours. I finally started hiking at nearly 8:00 am.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMGbnA0vSY1N8UCkWHWnHdS8SC667NsP9mECxwQC2Uczpio3DQ7-RllCmzwp66Lh9ryzT95Rjyv9_IAdC0_YrlnSWKJYKJeCq1ve7_fs3C-LmnBRXM8xXIFxpqX4HWpSJZp3o5jo4ohcL/s1600/1-morning+light.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMGbnA0vSY1N8UCkWHWnHdS8SC667NsP9mECxwQC2Uczpio3DQ7-RllCmzwp66Lh9ryzT95Rjyv9_IAdC0_YrlnSWKJYKJeCq1ve7_fs3C-LmnBRXM8xXIFxpqX4HWpSJZp3o5jo4ohcL/s640/1-morning+light.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning Light</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My hike was fun, with a mixture of snow, rock, and mud. The trail had good views looking back at the Sierra. It’s bittersweet to think I’m done with the Sierra Nevada, but not even halfway through my hike yet.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJzA2d1vi_ECLTbqdgewzIKgeZUjlO7z87L_onkd22kSvm_RRO4y51v8UEFd-Aj0n5qiZbZRHEeZ6Ih9IA7Y1VBFkQ-zgPlIeb-MzCj8TFX3HJX4Rliw0OthS3hJPPQZkerNUu5UHlfGQY/s1600/3-view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJzA2d1vi_ECLTbqdgewzIKgeZUjlO7z87L_onkd22kSvm_RRO4y51v8UEFd-Aj0n5qiZbZRHEeZ6Ih9IA7Y1VBFkQ-zgPlIeb-MzCj8TFX3HJX4Rliw0OthS3hJPPQZkerNUu5UHlfGQY/s640/3-view.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sierra</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I walked by myself singing along to music and did short standing glissades on the snow where the lack of sun-cupping made it possible. Parts of the trail were covered in snow so I just opted for a direct line down a snow gully. I really wanted to get to town. Mostly I was looking forward to my first shower in nine days.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirF6VVf6E_KhflrTL_gLBaSDnPZms_mjuiykGPior7Y4upM6RF-0utbbljuB-FfJ_TcMExqcLmh38hs8kQA3IKx_nberkPzl2wW0BD-OdW-E-SWFm7hFdbQZrh4eMASW4NcUhShbQbXRwy/s1600/2-snowfield.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirF6VVf6E_KhflrTL_gLBaSDnPZms_mjuiykGPior7Y4upM6RF-0utbbljuB-FfJ_TcMExqcLmh38hs8kQA3IKx_nberkPzl2wW0BD-OdW-E-SWFm7hFdbQZrh4eMASW4NcUhShbQbXRwy/s640/2-snowfield.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glissade = yes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Iz69UnGl1thsfqDEAyP-HzuXqMh-CVNW416YYFEks11eT0x56AUYyCNRKbqPBBNcRyPtQJdI5tQwIS9UOYRjK1YO25YP56eue_UkpSLAH2wic-anuHI3IY5vfzmbCjYXfLyO4Tui7myo/s1600/4-trail-mountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Iz69UnGl1thsfqDEAyP-HzuXqMh-CVNW416YYFEks11eT0x56AUYyCNRKbqPBBNcRyPtQJdI5tQwIS9UOYRjK1YO25YP56eue_UkpSLAH2wic-anuHI3IY5vfzmbCjYXfLyO4Tui7myo/s640/4-trail-mountain.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gllissade= no</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrHSThpCgDqPYj79nZBj_532DpdD0QodKpKJPLWALKU6EZvbkhJWvF6K8_2mx0EeV47ohphf7RRPazwsMZia8U_Y61WDhWCu-aDGoJwCJag-1S0IV_6dWvRqvPS2R3ea7Tw0-lRmOF4PL-/s1600/5-snowhole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrHSThpCgDqPYj79nZBj_532DpdD0QodKpKJPLWALKU6EZvbkhJWvF6K8_2mx0EeV47ohphf7RRPazwsMZia8U_Y61WDhWCu-aDGoJwCJag-1S0IV_6dWvRqvPS2R3ea7Tw0-lRmOF4PL-/s640/5-snowhole.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glissade - 100% wet</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMG3SvyHkzsnCr9eSsUKe_IaG4pRIWvCEpIAqc4whFJ7Cp3QUqGHixBBHimOVtm7pM9wTn1gkx1Zdp3Z4zUXMo60hrQ3mtnpepkSmjrSYFw4x1kN_F6eEfjrAq4TLWTNTLHt2nRV9v0I9Q/s1600/6-sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMG3SvyHkzsnCr9eSsUKe_IaG4pRIWvCEpIAqc4whFJ7Cp3QUqGHixBBHimOVtm7pM9wTn1gkx1Zdp3Z4zUXMo60hrQ3mtnpepkSmjrSYFw4x1kN_F6eEfjrAq4TLWTNTLHt2nRV9v0I9Q/s640/6-sign.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Stanislaus" is German meaning = "glissade at your own risk"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVM4dh_Mzc-erBcj4f0UYnrce3z48WF6KVo9iYIt2lv-Z5XsCqJJ0Tc8Ime7rWAgMPLDN9C0kM2AjlzYnKbDM3ajR0jv2FXBYiifHYEyJjF9vvTEB9uULujmI1iPytbb-GfVykYE3a3GM-/s1600/7-snow-cup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1555" data-original-width="874" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVM4dh_Mzc-erBcj4f0UYnrce3z48WF6KVo9iYIt2lv-Z5XsCqJJ0Tc8Ime7rWAgMPLDN9C0kM2AjlzYnKbDM3ajR0jv2FXBYiifHYEyJjF9vvTEB9uULujmI1iPytbb-GfVykYE3a3GM-/s640/7-snow-cup.jpg" width="358" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">G- li-ss-ad-e = bumpy on snow cups</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">When I arrived at highway 108 /Sonora Pass, I was joined by another hiker named Scuzi that I’d seen off an on for a couple days.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"></span>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She and I hitchhiked together and after almost an hour we finally got a ride into Kennedy Meadows North. Mark picked us up with a van full of kids. He was an absolute sweetheart and even drove us a mile down a side road which was out of his way, just to bring us to the front door. He also gave us a Coke and a fresh baked brownie on our drive!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When we pulled up, I saw Ziploc walking out. She stopped to say Hi/Bye but then continued on her mission.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Kennedy Meadows North is way better that the similarly named shithole to the south. There are a pile of dogs roaming around and horses everywhere. It’s a place my wife would like a lot I believe. I showered, did laundry, picked up my resupply which had a touching message from my wife (and a box of Girl Scout cookies). I also picked up my new tent and shipped home my bear can, micro spikes, and a fleece.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8QWpVk671MqgDORd_0kYQZU9KGmKPzQdhpNKUZNX3r-sObC-haGUsX9z0fwIJ4qrR8JLsvPPSnHVEGpFNfFQeWqaXk2jUmkv7NSKxkE7M2dBURroDUjEJBFt9HUsWxNUSolAfXO3ZCla8/s1600/8-hikers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8QWpVk671MqgDORd_0kYQZU9KGmKPzQdhpNKUZNX3r-sObC-haGUsX9z0fwIJ4qrR8JLsvPPSnHVEGpFNfFQeWqaXk2jUmkv7NSKxkE7M2dBURroDUjEJBFt9HUsWxNUSolAfXO3ZCla8/s640/8-hikers.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kennedy Meadows North</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBwQU5thbexERKqfpVuYhvoytO-B5fgU6H3zaDqx0Pxp9Z8ukFWGeB1d596MKi4_zoNc6NIx0gvjTNmE4hKuC0i4A0RMdM9aGudD78R4IBqg4TAw2DLIZx_tOGlwVBRTiT62V46qhgZddM/s1600/9-dog1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBwQU5thbexERKqfpVuYhvoytO-B5fgU6H3zaDqx0Pxp9Z8ukFWGeB1d596MKi4_zoNc6NIx0gvjTNmE4hKuC0i4A0RMdM9aGudD78R4IBqg4TAw2DLIZx_tOGlwVBRTiT62V46qhgZddM/s640/9-dog1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">KMN dog</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Scuzi introduced me to her friends Bagels and Townie. We hung out at the saloon together and had a few drinks. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvNEQPZadnUOJ4oRJriXyvStoaeMYOGdsMV2jFNd024CduMF-vKp7NJhxf8MzB2S1KhfVYSYewaGHhRVIlXihv9Ie5kXZIjq9wqjsNGAZov9Nqkmin5STHmUg1laOedkZCW1YHTOci6C7D/s1600/10-friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvNEQPZadnUOJ4oRJriXyvStoaeMYOGdsMV2jFNd024CduMF-vKp7NJhxf8MzB2S1KhfVYSYewaGHhRVIlXihv9Ie5kXZIjq9wqjsNGAZov9Nqkmin5STHmUg1laOedkZCW1YHTOci6C7D/s640/10-friends.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scuzi, Bagels, and Townie (guess who is who)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We then moved our party of four to the restaurant and the fun continued with two bottles of wine with dinner. Bagels is from Seattle and oddly enough even knows the company I work for. Scuzi is from South Africa. Townie is from Winnipeg, Canada. Bagels told us a hilarious story which had the rest of us in tears from laugh. The story involved him resupplying in Lone Pine with sixteen Snickers Bars among a few other things. He also shared some information with me about the guy with the garden hose which was learned during a drunken night at Casa De Luna. Apparently that guy’s trail name is “15 Foot” and he talks telepathically to his garden hose (which is a female BTW). Somehow there’s also a connection between the hose and 15 Foot’s obsession with finding Bigfoot. Seriously, I can’t make shit up like this: non-fiction is the best.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNQj21DITyWLv8JXGKeov4JW6fEfr8YPLT7aoYBHngjVhrBq4U_aBW9cFRfnMqP0jab_PkxasZF2vWJxX_6egKzCo338yr4_9r-3O6REhP9jSVyxRQV66BSLBpoedE13K4G7WRKMb13Ph3/s1600/11-friends2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNQj21DITyWLv8JXGKeov4JW6fEfr8YPLT7aoYBHngjVhrBq4U_aBW9cFRfnMqP0jab_PkxasZF2vWJxX_6egKzCo338yr4_9r-3O6REhP9jSVyxRQV66BSLBpoedE13K4G7WRKMb13Ph3/s640/11-friends2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stories over wine and dinner</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Our conversation also touched on real but less humorous topics, like how the trail restores faith in humanity. The trail changes one’s perspective and creates almost a sense of patriotism due to the unbridled kindness we see continually from complete strangers. People that just want to help us and get nothing in return. The hearts of people like Mark, or the ones that comment on this blog to give me motivation when I need it most are the most amazing part of the PCT! All of these people are participating in our somewhat selfish goals of getting from Mexico to Canada. With the kindness of others we might just make it, with or without a 15 foot section of garden hose.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvREIhihSve-IWx0wkTDPtF2Zi7r1gLwaN458MB7trisNpZdp4ldzEB3KiYV3DMd5EP_56ZgF50sbAhd2xvCbk9ds0wieT_mCwqhUiv9CFe5DsozBtkreJLv2mZZ-R_3ELp9LOc0kk4RxD/s1600/12-dog2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvREIhihSve-IWx0wkTDPtF2Zi7r1gLwaN458MB7trisNpZdp4ldzEB3KiYV3DMd5EP_56ZgF50sbAhd2xvCbk9ds0wieT_mCwqhUiv9CFe5DsozBtkreJLv2mZZ-R_3ELp9LOc0kk4RxD/s640/12-dog2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Human's best friend - listening to trail stories</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">I’m getting back on trail tomorrow. My first zero day in nearly 400 mil</span><span style="font-size: large;">es awaits me in South Lake Tahoe, assuming my ankle doesn’t fall off in the next 74 miles.</span>Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-76139949659678555472018-06-20T17:24:00.001-06:002018-06-20T17:24:37.127-06:00PCT - Day 62: 6/19/2018 - From Hell to Heavenly<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 20.7 from 989.5 - 1010.2</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 23.1</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3tXmN6mZFJqlaOWP_pr7VEJ3JxhX1FVGNW7KRuGF7a7aRYt6bDc1wWFVARlXeCiBsZpRsC6HdXpbgip6yP5_5tNTLLSdC93j_zaflJX2VteCTUcA3Amf0DzK100fhDRNG6ztL1J3HeLU3/s1600/15-sunset-shadow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3tXmN6mZFJqlaOWP_pr7VEJ3JxhX1FVGNW7KRuGF7a7aRYt6bDc1wWFVARlXeCiBsZpRsC6HdXpbgip6yP5_5tNTLLSdC93j_zaflJX2VteCTUcA3Amf0DzK100fhDRNG6ztL1J3HeLU3/s640/15-sunset-shadow.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My ankle hurt so bad this morning. Because of that, I was sitting in my sleeping bag at 5:30 am with a question repeating itself in my mind. “Is this the end of the PCT for me?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip8K1vAp0RvbEMd5kK94EfRE5hm3G_SqQCSS_lexKQJm6qGHuuRNe7p0uUA-6-64b8C3HoHC2hc3AAy6zyu0JIZsOBrPjoKmWFFW2CESf2yPNXWmoFfTCibY68w2SlJTct83aGuvezV_bx/s1600/1-morning-view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip8K1vAp0RvbEMd5kK94EfRE5hm3G_SqQCSS_lexKQJm6qGHuuRNe7p0uUA-6-64b8C3HoHC2hc3AAy6zyu0JIZsOBrPjoKmWFFW2CESf2yPNXWmoFfTCibY68w2SlJTct83aGuvezV_bx/s640/1-morning-view.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I could barely hobble out of my tent to take a piss. My ankle was swollen and in a lot of pain. I again cursed the day from February 2013 where the original horrific ankle injury occurred. To start the day, I was 27 miles from Sonora Pass and Kennedy Meadows North. There wasn’t even reliable cell service there. I was 100 miles away from South Lake Tahoe, which is the first place I might be able to get medical attention.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I decided I had only one choice. Hike. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So, I got ready. I put on my repugnant shirt that had only been rinsed in a river once in the last eight days. I packed up my stuff as quickly as I could to minimize my exposure to mosquito hell.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I limped for the first mile and using my poles for crutches I covered that mile in 45 minutes. My second mile took 35 minutes. My ankle was loosening up a bit, but the pain was still very real.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This was the worst morning I’d had thus far on the PCT. My ankle was excruciating. Much of the trail was muddy or filled with puddles of muddy water. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAMMYXObPYeRel1LrDQIpF7KOiaE0wYejkAHiiZ0jZwo9t0AKmcSH9iOKmM7n6KM8F1bm02EVnXbVowmhiEbM6d5BS0PsK5boroJHDxoajlzK58ghTmFIOH8-qQwAr32qNoSVKG3rQmiqV/s1600/3-muddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAMMYXObPYeRel1LrDQIpF7KOiaE0wYejkAHiiZ0jZwo9t0AKmcSH9iOKmM7n6KM8F1bm02EVnXbVowmhiEbM6d5BS0PsK5boroJHDxoajlzK58ghTmFIOH8-qQwAr32qNoSVKG3rQmiqV/s640/3-muddy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mosquito Heaven</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Hoards of mosquitoes engulfed me every time I stopped to do anything. I was hiking with my buff pulled up to cover my ears and mouth. I had headphones in with music playing so I couldn’t hear these evil fuckers. I was wearing hat, sunglasses, and mosquito head net. I was also wearing my rain jacket to prevent mosquitoes from biting through my shirt. My legs were drenched in deet. While treating water the cloud of mosquitoes around my head was so thick that it obscured vision. I limped along, sweating in my rain jacket, sinking up to my ankles in mud, wishing I was anywhere but in this meadow. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">A buck stopped what he was doing to laugh at my attire. Never seen a laughing deer? Just dress like I was and walk around Yosemite for a while.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3HUhETkE7tFWN-eipPGLjr6rmrqpknoweUsxTyEsF3HOVwjWMNt5UM6DhtZLP9DharLoxxc8R_yFjomtLJffelcpxZqu3h4Bgz3oQtOXN45pknCy9CiSFaG2oQf9NnTbq3Pe1CZ9RZe1/s1600/2-spying-buck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3HUhETkE7tFWN-eipPGLjr6rmrqpknoweUsxTyEsF3HOVwjWMNt5UM6DhtZLP9DharLoxxc8R_yFjomtLJffelcpxZqu3h4Bgz3oQtOXN45pknCy9CiSFaG2oQf9NnTbq3Pe1CZ9RZe1/s640/2-spying-buck.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laughing Buck</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Eventually I started gaining elevation and made my way to beautiful Dorothy Lake. I stopped here long enough to rinse my socks and my shirt in this pristine lake. The views of the water with snow behind it was breathtaking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I continued up and over Dorothy Lake Pass which was also my exit from Yosemite National Park. I stopped a half a mile shy of the mile 1000 mark to eat lunch in a rare spot with only a few mosquitoes.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUafssHZkoiOpNHJBelrDDEZB1KtUcnlwdOybO3kU0f-us5KP61NAlKaRImk86Re9VZZLNUSA56Kd3l-taGzRx1mN-4RNjOE2M7FLZYuzrs1tnGR5vnMWOID0NaYbFOEV0Bl2n2DLpJD7R/s1600/6-rest-by-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUafssHZkoiOpNHJBelrDDEZB1KtUcnlwdOybO3kU0f-us5KP61NAlKaRImk86Re9VZZLNUSA56Kd3l-taGzRx1mN-4RNjOE2M7FLZYuzrs1tnGR5vnMWOID0NaYbFOEV0Bl2n2DLpJD7R/s640/6-rest-by-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At lunch I wondered what I’d do with my summer if my ankle didn’t get better. Maybe I’d go play a couple of events in the World Series of Poker. Maybe I’d ride my motorcycle somewhere awesome. I also wondered about my trail family that is no longer together. How’s Chilly Bin doing? Where are Tapeworm and Opera? How’s HoosierDaddy doing after seeing the doctor? How far ahead is Ziploc? How’s Sleeping Beauty enjoying her first day back at work after the JMT? What’s up with Peanut Butter, Ranger, Gandalf, Whiplash, and so many others I’d met over the last thousand miles?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj38BikHsep2qNLzKnLorctgq1vXYAQrdaqIAkobNVXOMSYYcRH-i06sjGWmhZr27WsYi7j7t09QjhBhHFlzmpcqS8WXSH8WIOfMFjhloWkXEqbI_0nxnI7218xIfWN1Jo1zddQAkZihd81/s1600/8-trail-woods.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj38BikHsep2qNLzKnLorctgq1vXYAQrdaqIAkobNVXOMSYYcRH-i06sjGWmhZr27WsYi7j7t09QjhBhHFlzmpcqS8WXSH8WIOfMFjhloWkXEqbI_0nxnI7218xIfWN1Jo1zddQAkZihd81/s640/8-trail-woods.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had no answers. I ate my lunch in the same manner as I hiked and camped for the last three days, by myself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mile 1000 was a letdown. I didn’t feel like dancing, and I was in too much pain to even think about it. I crossed mile 1000 the same way I started the PCT at mile 0, by myself.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxduXlRLhoD4WXMUxh-bwyG44VOj57UJTY8-hCukaQj2z07S-eEhQ82kfICJATImoyuKrKxZNcKAdczArw7ZgihK4-1fgj-f4H-bl7k5hPFj7iC_lz5JSxMYObO19hZzzkB_v8TD_KfJD-/s1600/7-mile-1000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxduXlRLhoD4WXMUxh-bwyG44VOj57UJTY8-hCukaQj2z07S-eEhQ82kfICJATImoyuKrKxZNcKAdczArw7ZgihK4-1fgj-f4H-bl7k5hPFj7iC_lz5JSxMYObO19hZzzkB_v8TD_KfJD-/s640/7-mile-1000.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hiking the rest of the day was a grind. I counted the miles remaining till Sonora Pass. I am in desperate need of a shower, laundry, and time off my feet.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4RstBBvJFNBgcjKChAxNZvbsd6j0GLHmbXK_fQJX3IiP43QduDSdII4CgRUx1vBMSLauXIybEKywWsgV8ABx09OfWfSb4LlHpI_aV6u0pCydiE3ItLDTxsAoruXI_jBiUcxYgGgF5cM8F/s1600/11-trail-snow-cups.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4RstBBvJFNBgcjKChAxNZvbsd6j0GLHmbXK_fQJX3IiP43QduDSdII4CgRUx1vBMSLauXIybEKywWsgV8ABx09OfWfSb4LlHpI_aV6u0pCydiE3ItLDTxsAoruXI_jBiUcxYgGgF5cM8F/s640/11-trail-snow-cups.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Briefly during my climb I forgot about my pain and my loneliness. I even forgot about the mosquitoes for a while as the views of the mountains grew with each step up in elevation. I stopped to camp at one of the highest camp spots on the route at nearly 10,600’.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy10jz1BsZ2DTCbMorddp8MMh3Ri8M0Y6_ZEy6GDpceEqbEHYcwkgB2ghY4u7pmRsB4e1uCxjhhToRLs0iZdW6qtJAADJgABGF8sC32zFSHIsLnBrzcjV9qF1bfCjVrACXPAduJRJ5Y1MV/s1600/12-view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy10jz1BsZ2DTCbMorddp8MMh3Ri8M0Y6_ZEy6GDpceEqbEHYcwkgB2ghY4u7pmRsB4e1uCxjhhToRLs0iZdW6qtJAADJgABGF8sC32zFSHIsLnBrzcjV9qF1bfCjVrACXPAduJRJ5Y1MV/s640/12-view.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I ate in silence and tried to use a spotty LTE connection that seemed to disappear any time I tried to do something. Instead, I sat and watched the sun setting in the west and the alpenglow to the east.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4aT8kL_Wai_8B1JY4EYFp_w96EY2881iU66xNDphoOoqqu7Ouuauka8WR94eKpwLcm2DUZr0wGDpvzWGBoGCiaKOS2rq2u55pZRe7Pe104ddObf9zqVviR6NWinkgd-No-Cse4ZTz2YgM/s1600/13-trail-thinking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4aT8kL_Wai_8B1JY4EYFp_w96EY2881iU66xNDphoOoqqu7Ouuauka8WR94eKpwLcm2DUZr0wGDpvzWGBoGCiaKOS2rq2u55pZRe7Pe104ddObf9zqVviR6NWinkgd-No-Cse4ZTz2YgM/s640/13-trail-thinking.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBwTmMs3Ve2zYRWRUofhMO1ZTf_gm7bX42MQ0Se6fkyVlT6bcBBc3dX6zK-qFQOCqUKQeeQcrS9pH4T11pNFs8p4ZQGXSdCsXO9u7HMym41I2ylPQ6m3WLv3wKDQ9TEAqD7qidxwzKcr3/s1600/14-sunset1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBwTmMs3Ve2zYRWRUofhMO1ZTf_gm7bX42MQ0Se6fkyVlT6bcBBc3dX6zK-qFQOCqUKQeeQcrS9pH4T11pNFs8p4ZQGXSdCsXO9u7HMym41I2ylPQ6m3WLv3wKDQ9TEAqD7qidxwzKcr3/s640/14-sunset1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was my favorite moment of my entire PCT hike. A day that started with hell finished with heavenly views.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8frC7KgjCFai0uqdGuFRjcmOWhOG6mmdx6DcsSDCJLYrSsdcuallA8KifseSlBCBi2dLRNGcjknluVz0SSgCKccyq-bBUeZNkS0q7kIprwisj-Nhbd7eEuBQFEz86tX6fK5fLhfbmdgBN/s1600/16-sunset3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8frC7KgjCFai0uqdGuFRjcmOWhOG6mmdx6DcsSDCJLYrSsdcuallA8KifseSlBCBi2dLRNGcjknluVz0SSgCKccyq-bBUeZNkS0q7kIprwisj-Nhbd7eEuBQFEz86tX6fK5fLhfbmdgBN/s640/16-sunset3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkBlINOjNpAjkGMV3EBxejEQWjNJIx0rsKmH5TVuIN9-s7Q_CHjQa15nprtkbjeukYscfEe2bwSe8_veFl44Pe_DedmXypQ6uiGm1cRDOnOJ8jIKQLlLs_GW78n8oxsI7b9P9m2v9rUpiD/s1600/18-goodnight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkBlINOjNpAjkGMV3EBxejEQWjNJIx0rsKmH5TVuIN9-s7Q_CHjQa15nprtkbjeukYscfEe2bwSe8_veFl44Pe_DedmXypQ6uiGm1cRDOnOJ8jIKQLlLs_GW78n8oxsI7b9P9m2v9rUpiD/s640/18-goodnight.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-44270613243396328252018-06-20T16:56:00.001-06:002018-06-20T16:56:26.319-06:00PCT - Day 61: 6/18/2018 - Yet another ankle sprain<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 18.9 from 970.6 - 989.5</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 19.6</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9qp9HtgiHVe8IiZX6JZLp5ElAbmcz-MRz-5GAPkQOZYU02xM9KsJe-X59-k6KaPz5Bjo3_32ik1P1mvw52bl9CGuyBaOTgPPYRJYPORrv0-UgerSD6-eTu-OGgF4w1ApIfWzIu78EjbT8/s1600/3-tree-on-rock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1555" data-original-width="1166" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9qp9HtgiHVe8IiZX6JZLp5ElAbmcz-MRz-5GAPkQOZYU02xM9KsJe-X59-k6KaPz5Bjo3_32ik1P1mvw52bl9CGuyBaOTgPPYRJYPORrv0-UgerSD6-eTu-OGgF4w1ApIfWzIu78EjbT8/s640/3-tree-on-rock.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Getting out of my sleeping bag was a real challenge. I have been sleeping relatively well lately. I guess when your last zero day was twenty days ago, the body takes whatever rest it can get. I finally started hiking at my latest starting time yet, 7:15 am.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqVwBSrDqcNigmaPjpcFD-GCDK7RXK5EEtAZW_oT1u44euzoK35yHZwsHYfsX4RE8OzyW-fvol8VY8dIziHVWRUjPZ9xPwJegj5VH7TNSklkHs9yYMfMAC0Wfp32poVfDsvINzKEwtJ1SZ/s1600/1-trail-grass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqVwBSrDqcNigmaPjpcFD-GCDK7RXK5EEtAZW_oT1u44euzoK35yHZwsHYfsX4RE8OzyW-fvol8VY8dIziHVWRUjPZ9xPwJegj5VH7TNSklkHs9yYMfMAC0Wfp32poVfDsvINzKEwtJ1SZ/s640/1-trail-grass.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The day started with a steep descent on a rocky trail. When I arrived at a sign for Benson Lake, I just continued figuring the PCT goes by this lake. I was in a thick forest and the trail was lined with tall wet grass. “Car wash grass” we used to call this on the Colorado Trail. While walking I noticed the muddy trail didn’t have familiar footprints that I’m accustomed to seeing. After a quick check of Guthook, I realized I went wrong at the sign. That’s OK, it’s nice to start the day with some bonus miles.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was also slowed by several creek crossings. Some required good balance on logs, rocks, beaver dams, or some combination of all these. Other creeks required me to change shoes. I found that I’m a happier guy with dry feet, so I’ve been opting to swap into my Crocs when fording creeks.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcno-E1que8gtgCda_A0Dl8mmHT0AnvB-SzvPPQ59mew3mL2LQ4BxcoFd3bwhI9Fo6m35ICP7jqd3S-ds6P2v4HUtZaEtJRgjxwTUltf55YM_7aE7OtfSCoOs0dE9h02EsLY5WINVeKgG1/s1600/4-5-trail-in-rocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcno-E1que8gtgCda_A0Dl8mmHT0AnvB-SzvPPQ59mew3mL2LQ4BxcoFd3bwhI9Fo6m35ICP7jqd3S-ds6P2v4HUtZaEtJRgjxwTUltf55YM_7aE7OtfSCoOs0dE9h02EsLY5WINVeKgG1/s640/4-5-trail-in-rocks.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I began a 1500 foot climb up Seavy Pass. I was stopping often just to admire the scenic lakes, rock formations, and views across the valley. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6qle0asHlqNVBFt-YQUVHYminPFefKzJSHJeZrHGTR9imifrwrY7xctVe_951CtmujKiqO0z7ds6P71dEUgokW6qLHbrai9zSWVaVRgnPYr1O2fNMyDyg5CAN9S1g049rBAjJiKsnxdVN/s1600/4-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1600" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6qle0asHlqNVBFt-YQUVHYminPFefKzJSHJeZrHGTR9imifrwrY7xctVe_951CtmujKiqO0z7ds6P71dEUgokW6qLHbrai9zSWVaVRgnPYr1O2fNMyDyg5CAN9S1g049rBAjJiKsnxdVN/s640/4-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There were only a couple patches of snow, which made me happy. I surprised a couple deer right next to the trail, but they knew I was not a threat and after saying hello to me with a stare, they went back to munching on bushes. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hsajyPXx9jmBfKfHjloiP-8LgR0jKfEOMG99NgeLNq2RVBoDScrW6TfPhyLS5eoNrg8GUc-ZxFfvpdKxO7Nh68CY0h0k4EfZLBXZSNHQbeSFJYiOk_5BLSMYftU_mEe9mO0DYZZxE0lU/s1600/6-deer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hsajyPXx9jmBfKfHjloiP-8LgR0jKfEOMG99NgeLNq2RVBoDScrW6TfPhyLS5eoNrg8GUc-ZxFfvpdKxO7Nh68CY0h0k4EfZLBXZSNHQbeSFJYiOk_5BLSMYftU_mEe9mO0DYZZxE0lU/s640/6-deer.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At the top of Seavy Pass, it was 10:45 am, and I had only covered five miles thus far. I still had two more steep climbs and a couple of tricky fords to do.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Kerrick Creek was the first of the tricky fords. I arrived at this creek about 12:15 pm and oddly enough I had not yet seen another northbound hiker yet. I crossed by myself in a quick current, with water levels reaching my upper thigh. The current was strong, but slower than Bear Creek where it had been about the same water level.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCBj_7_EIAVs_aFZ0f3ECwyKF8KEFnzvFElSL4NrjpTS_v66r_gC91Mj6Nh4SKTC8D1NKCSdlYAin4STB_lcYeUDMeOtn6RvcAj6NWE-Dk423AtXgg1Qipa80waa2Oq0_fNCZd8TX-jFAh/s1600/5-100-percent-wet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1210" data-original-width="907" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCBj_7_EIAVs_aFZ0f3ECwyKF8KEFnzvFElSL4NrjpTS_v66r_gC91Mj6Nh4SKTC8D1NKCSdlYAin4STB_lcYeUDMeOtn6RvcAj6NWE-Dk423AtXgg1Qipa80waa2Oq0_fNCZd8TX-jFAh/s640/5-100-percent-wet.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">100% Wet</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">After the ford, I stopped for a lunch break. In the sun, I laid out my tent, sleeping bag, underwear, and socks which were recently laundered in Kerrick Creek.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I sat and ate and didn’t really think about much. I just listened to birds and tried to make ants recognize that my legs are officially a “no ant zone”.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After eating as much as possible from my bear can, I packed up everything and began my second climb of the day which was steep but only gained 800 feet or so. I flew up this trail powered by a bunch of calories from lunch.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Before I knew it, I was back down the other side and fording a creek in Stubblefield Canyon. The most recent reports had said this was a chest deep ford. I crossed at 3:00 pm and it was only knee high. A few hours of anxiety for nothing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My third climb gained another 1400 feet or so. This part of my day is where I’ve seen the most wildflowers thus far. It’s nothing compared to the endless wildflowers on the CT, but it was a nice change.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeBMsxwNq2JAAA9JDhfsCocT9LZFjnsOGjPv3Ft7p5CLJmTTvpqh1gkfj6spjO0SN7zgmLY7cUMbhBBw6PlKq07sMTT9ISUtdxVIyUcFx5NbFQ7hvcIkkc26Hhyb6HtXbUSJMkaouuOuyt/s1600/7-red-flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeBMsxwNq2JAAA9JDhfsCocT9LZFjnsOGjPv3Ft7p5CLJmTTvpqh1gkfj6spjO0SN7zgmLY7cUMbhBBw6PlKq07sMTT9ISUtdxVIyUcFx5NbFQ7hvcIkkc26Hhyb6HtXbUSJMkaouuOuyt/s640/7-red-flowers.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDaBgAKbL9u8Xg36t8ffexua0C0x1tVbORvN6n9nUPuKnM98GQ1t7B_eRzq3VWx86JJRvdBM0OttNQrIFC2HgJLE6CJg1vssu_Eo3tuMjs8gK0kwXBP3WaS_l0bPAz6YrdRieVptfx8jKD/s1600/8-orange-flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDaBgAKbL9u8Xg36t8ffexua0C0x1tVbORvN6n9nUPuKnM98GQ1t7B_eRzq3VWx86JJRvdBM0OttNQrIFC2HgJLE6CJg1vssu_Eo3tuMjs8gK0kwXBP3WaS_l0bPAz6YrdRieVptfx8jKD/s640/8-orange-flowers.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTFKtVtQZ3AQIDOrN9jWSKupIGVJU_uTSNPiz5_vCqyptss3S5bMNPIDDehWk18-NJHimiyyxBMWXtRCwrtOw1Dpy6GT9WHbQ2rzR0FE6ZEAwfu2AANeIK30WNt8fDC5uNVIo-dsjxidhw/s1600/9-pink-flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTFKtVtQZ3AQIDOrN9jWSKupIGVJU_uTSNPiz5_vCqyptss3S5bMNPIDDehWk18-NJHimiyyxBMWXtRCwrtOw1Dpy6GT9WHbQ2rzR0FE6ZEAwfu2AANeIK30WNt8fDC5uNVIo-dsjxidhw/s640/9-pink-flowers.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Right near the top of this climb, I sprained my piece of shit right ankle AGAIN. I also fell this time and landed on my hands and knees. It’s a good thing I had seen so few people today, because I yelled something like “Fucking Fucking Fuck! Fuck! Fucking Fucking Fuck!!!”</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwFLygYlr8oFELUQdm210KqY5Z9S2gqRjdMMHxrqiqls1rSGUGyjDfAFArAMd2053QGe5T6zVXYSrNnI5OBWpv6ilERubjCowa4lIjWa_FWtsPpJ84wxU0Lg_S6uj3IaFd9FcGaAWSb-Ov/s1600/10-trail-in-trees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwFLygYlr8oFELUQdm210KqY5Z9S2gqRjdMMHxrqiqls1rSGUGyjDfAFArAMd2053QGe5T6zVXYSrNnI5OBWpv6ilERubjCowa4lIjWa_FWtsPpJ84wxU0Lg_S6uj3IaFd9FcGaAWSb-Ov/s640/10-trail-in-trees.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I was back in limp and hobble mode. And this time the pain seemed worse that previous times.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The trail then dropped my gimpy ass into pond and lake hell. I mean, this place is probably awesome in other circumstances, but not today.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA7Kicd7QQA8dWCldwOlSjFMqL5d0k-s3wQtP0BdawNidCgzVq4RgTnp3ObpfdcH37UtVlAe143KcypGoYsI2G1yqHp3RdGamjqwjYtnubz5k-0i4-IrL2qQKgwYtNrSa0QaibvDik0gfB/s1600/11-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA7Kicd7QQA8dWCldwOlSjFMqL5d0k-s3wQtP0BdawNidCgzVq4RgTnp3ObpfdcH37UtVlAe143KcypGoYsI2G1yqHp3RdGamjqwjYtnubz5k-0i4-IrL2qQKgwYtNrSa0QaibvDik0gfB/s640/11-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wilma (aka Wilmer) Lake, the nearby ponds and the surrounding area were overflowing and water encroached the trail and completely covered it in a few places. The water however was avoidable.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">What wasn’t avoidable were the hoards of mosquitoes. The best defense against mosquitoes is to not stop and hike fast. I was walking slowly and gently to avoid more pain in my ankle. Therefore I got eaten alive. I had basically bathed in deet and that helped slightly, but then I’d ford a creek and my legs were again fresh meat. I hopped on one leg and crutched along with my trekking poles for a bit because my ankle was so sore. When I stopped to get water from a stream, the mosquito hoard engulfed me. I hobbled in a circle to keep them at bay while I whipped up an Aqua Mira concoction to treat my water.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I didn’t intend to camp where I did, but my ankle was failing to move anymore. After setting up my tent and cooking dinner, I could barely walk from where I ate back to my tent.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPsjFFf13TWzaOSgQPS6cSzGmIPkAU-LLjIMaZOmJI93Y0KTTHdCH_z9pB0PUWlEVwe6D0-OkGIsG368YhAPyZD2I2RnWCWVxAeLd8aLUZVh7DjBdLk-w3eO5Z3lM3tdvZmTsctFud1FCD/s1600/12-campsite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPsjFFf13TWzaOSgQPS6cSzGmIPkAU-LLjIMaZOmJI93Y0KTTHdCH_z9pB0PUWlEVwe6D0-OkGIsG368YhAPyZD2I2RnWCWVxAeLd8aLUZVh7DjBdLk-w3eO5Z3lM3tdvZmTsctFud1FCD/s640/12-campsite.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Campsite</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope my ankle is better tomorrow as I have my sights set on mile 1000. Mile 1000!!!</span><br />
<br />Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-87191827681529086012018-06-20T16:27:00.001-06:002018-06-20T16:28:32.669-06:00PCT - Day 60: 6/17/2018 - Accept, Adapt, Appreciate<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 19.1 from 951.5 - 970.6</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 21.4</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJcSmwLT42GP-heNL2bn-gfeXILFpvVfg5NUCaTTVaYxY_Q4SnaRzOTexavrrvskUyIh_dkQtQVc3bS-j-ww2I_zgqVrl-qC_U35ISx3bjKFY5uICt_Kz24ffJ-PEF__Lho2oISMIZBve/s1600/2-frost-closeup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJcSmwLT42GP-heNL2bn-gfeXILFpvVfg5NUCaTTVaYxY_Q4SnaRzOTexavrrvskUyIh_dkQtQVc3bS-j-ww2I_zgqVrl-qC_U35ISx3bjKFY5uICt_Kz24ffJ-PEF__Lho2oISMIZBve/s640/2-frost-closeup.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It’s a bit of a bummer that on Fathers Day, I didn’t have a cell signal. I would have loved to talk to my Dad and hopefully hear from my daughter. But, I’m currently at the mercy of the trail. Happy Fathers Day Dad! I love you!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The morning was really cold. Frost covered my tent and the entire meadow we had camped near. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCwAp60w8HvmPuP8UWLuy3GDfSqQqrHSwGwQS196mev70ww-WHNpViHYUrSbu_O8xoLd_WSiy3CN8_h-yicMsky56BhL78O86MnkPTZn85ut32sDvzPv__nWIomm2PMos7_alyf_nRX6-/s1600/1-frosty-morning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCwAp60w8HvmPuP8UWLuy3GDfSqQqrHSwGwQS196mev70ww-WHNpViHYUrSbu_O8xoLd_WSiy3CN8_h-yicMsky56BhL78O86MnkPTZn85ut32sDvzPv__nWIomm2PMos7_alyf_nRX6-/s640/1-frosty-morning.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frosty morning</td></tr>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Since we’re in Yosemite National Park, I assumed there wouldn’t be too many creeks to ford. I guess I was thinking that the NPS would’ve put bridges in place or something. I was wrong, I probably forded five or six creeks today. The most adventurous one being Return Creek which was about thigh high with a decent current behind it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ziploc had hiked ahead of me since I was still moving at a slightly slower pace due to my ankle problem. While I was walking right after the ford of Spiller Creek, I nearly had a heart attack when a deer jumped across the trail about three feet in front of my face. He then stopped on the other side and looked back at me like I was the one who startled him.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEb9YL8DEePZ33Q6M9kDQDni1dtYz9zvWePFUESg9BoOy-D4IqzU_9EmJMLrf8g_zpBgmJXRLLS-375sR1UD0kmqu68BfkSQeOB3NjF-D6dGITAkaSlk8xVXC2_8skmMdiaHQ_IaOCUsD/s1600/3-trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEb9YL8DEePZ33Q6M9kDQDni1dtYz9zvWePFUESg9BoOy-D4IqzU_9EmJMLrf8g_zpBgmJXRLLS-375sR1UD0kmqu68BfkSQeOB3NjF-D6dGITAkaSlk8xVXC2_8skmMdiaHQ_IaOCUsD/s640/3-trail.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Around 9:30 am, I caught up with Ziploc since she was sitting on a dead log drying her tent. She wasn’t in a good mood. She was getting frustrated with the nonstop challenges the Sierra throws at us; steep ascents/descents, trails that are rocky, muddy, or snowy, and constant creek and stream crossings that keep one’s feet wet most of the day. I tried to encourage her and repeated a mantra that I’ve been trying to remember myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Accept. Adapt. Appreciate.<sup><span style="color: blue;">1</span></sup></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><sup><span style="color: blue;"><br /></span></sup></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiakJAnNf06fHGUBDwvrv89SdxlhdxPqUyLUBRmWW7ETI8ya7NtDvm2-S13HUZlmDRU-BPwDu5Fo-ecrQMnRfk3Lpivtdpi8YggXOVXyURRAhwXKeC0O2hiRIyplg6VIQdbLyeVWAaRyX2V/s1600/4-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiakJAnNf06fHGUBDwvrv89SdxlhdxPqUyLUBRmWW7ETI8ya7NtDvm2-S13HUZlmDRU-BPwDu5Fo-ecrQMnRfk3Lpivtdpi8YggXOVXyURRAhwXKeC0O2hiRIyplg6VIQdbLyeVWAaRyX2V/s640/4-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I can’t take credit for that, I read it in some other hiking related blog, but I love it and think it’s a great attitude to have towards the outdoors in general. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">To add to Ziploc’s misery, a couple hours later, I caught up again to find her trying to extract a large piece of metal from her shoe. She had stepped on this sharp rusty object and was lucky it didn’t puncture her foot in addition to her shoe. I was chuckling on the inside as I removed the thing from her shoe.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgSSa15KdHrHX8CJk6_k59aUEUFlJ0m1aEtzDZb5_NCaKyB2qv1b48zK2zA5JpWOI_gQzeZ0NnwgxxQC1j2oxrsPXGkWKGL1VCvqWonvVGNatrfPtDR_8ebOQGVPKEky36KItd5N9zv5q/s1600/6-nail-shoe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1210" data-original-width="907" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgSSa15KdHrHX8CJk6_k59aUEUFlJ0m1aEtzDZb5_NCaKyB2qv1b48zK2zA5JpWOI_gQzeZ0NnwgxxQC1j2oxrsPXGkWKGL1VCvqWonvVGNatrfPtDR_8ebOQGVPKEky36KItd5N9zv5q/s640/6-nail-shoe.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nail in shoe</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">About an hour later, I walked up to a creek to ford on our way up Benson Pass. I reluctantly dropped my pack and switched from my dry trail runners to my Crocs to ford this creek. That’s when I saw Ziploc bashing around off trail but still on the same side of the creek.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I asked her what she was doing and she replied “Building a bridge”.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I laughed as I walked across the creek, getting wet only up to my knee. She then threw a log into the creek in attempt to build a “bridge” or at least a way to step across with dry feet. The log just floated down stream. I couldn’t contain my laughter anymore. Seeing that log she threw just float away was too much. I roared with laughter as she was being a good sport about it even if she was pouting a bit. She finally reluctantly took her shoes off to cross.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicLoAfaYzCm_HbYlHdNdUONnyMXJJOtoxXhC9g2vmW6h3jikZj6pjH7J6g_qRE8K3hkPwGD2jx28HTIvSzfKO1fKOO3EpXth_tbpgMly5P2lOFe4fPq5s45lLzYWBZeM8UvXWkfR9xGMxu/s1600/7-trail-rocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicLoAfaYzCm_HbYlHdNdUONnyMXJJOtoxXhC9g2vmW6h3jikZj6pjH7J6g_qRE8K3hkPwGD2jx28HTIvSzfKO1fKOO3EpXth_tbpgMly5P2lOFe4fPq5s45lLzYWBZeM8UvXWkfR9xGMxu/s640/7-trail-rocks.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">On the way up the pass I was crawling. Fatigue was getting the best of me. The views from this pass only really got good when descending the north side. That’s where I passed Smedberg Lake which I thought about camping at but ultimately decided to push a couple more miles to lose a little elevation. Mostly, I was hoping I would be warmer down a few hundred feet.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2W0hqek7tTk7EthG32UP7h00M1BU1qIIkUbNchZCpdJU3PS6LaRVdLP7CgjM52FuP11IyNjKZrJZMDvsGIhht2UKbWYlW00OrIAsTZy7_-C6RasPc9dIfGa1TTT-_24o7rVKcYcDgtUl0/s1600/8-view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2W0hqek7tTk7EthG32UP7h00M1BU1qIIkUbNchZCpdJU3PS6LaRVdLP7CgjM52FuP11IyNjKZrJZMDvsGIhht2UKbWYlW00OrIAsTZy7_-C6RasPc9dIfGa1TTT-_24o7rVKcYcDgtUl0/s640/8-view.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ziploc wanted to do a 22+ mile day, and I simply didn’t want to or need to. My ankle needs rest and I am carrying plenty of food to where I don’t need to hurry through this beautiful area. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg5Fds65GlFPs19RMwu6j0eJE_TAWid9HGPXp8hutUZ7sNz_tSNrv8MaI_E7e3DOCjg49cL3BeaK_DN1R9rYcPYQCy2xLGOMgVYLPDr-qwnNnkIkHI4pvxI6RZM5bHWSBD8XT2hfAwagUw/s1600/9-lake3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg5Fds65GlFPs19RMwu6j0eJE_TAWid9HGPXp8hutUZ7sNz_tSNrv8MaI_E7e3DOCjg49cL3BeaK_DN1R9rYcPYQCy2xLGOMgVYLPDr-qwnNnkIkHI4pvxI6RZM5bHWSBD8XT2hfAwagUw/s640/9-lake3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">She kept going when I stopped to camp near a waterfall. I was surrounded on three sides by huge granite walls.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4rcy-9DFNkVtBVQmLSj7ARTozr_l7jJ2vNmNdLGbZ0MrxY-jvV9kazo1l2dljfYe8-luLs0l8uYKtbWvME8eYIsaE3XFiluWK_KpgKTnYDaWslghXZ8Fidw58Jm0xpBoxWss7KzlKmNQ/s1600/12-falls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1555" data-original-width="874" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4rcy-9DFNkVtBVQmLSj7ARTozr_l7jJ2vNmNdLGbZ0MrxY-jvV9kazo1l2dljfYe8-luLs0l8uYKtbWvME8eYIsaE3XFiluWK_KpgKTnYDaWslghXZ8Fidw58Jm0xpBoxWss7KzlKmNQ/s640/12-falls.jpg" width="358" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I am always amazed that somehow trees can grow from tiny ledges on these stone walls.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe8xFTdthEGu1CZpNJHs30GOOBOP2efaEI5DbT6IhGM4il27g66ZwTgiokq3CKD43zWg8uoWY32WL6uW7aGnPr7VUz0h-UpGPi8GsMCtcz_XrCdEZ5c5ePihuvAlo2ewNezL-mqG4caEHu/s1600/10-cliffs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe8xFTdthEGu1CZpNJHs30GOOBOP2efaEI5DbT6IhGM4il27g66ZwTgiokq3CKD43zWg8uoWY32WL6uW7aGnPr7VUz0h-UpGPi8GsMCtcz_XrCdEZ5c5ePihuvAlo2ewNezL-mqG4caEHu/s640/10-cliffs.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I treated myself to my first PCT campfire as a way of celebrating day sixty and Fathers Day.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuG57Am4KXplmfEDBPSX3daSr_oL7IpoIgx-BcfL6j0mL4qFJ4hKLwbTHJHOOox_o7A8Cq7cTdP2NKslnrnW61lr0NkJ7g2b7-sq3sdNbB_7aoyQenz85ARdB0AH6d0OkmChPEWCnnL886/s1600/11-campsite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuG57Am4KXplmfEDBPSX3daSr_oL7IpoIgx-BcfL6j0mL4qFJ4hKLwbTHJHOOox_o7A8Cq7cTdP2NKslnrnW61lr0NkJ7g2b7-sq3sdNbB_7aoyQenz85ARdB0AH6d0OkmChPEWCnnL886/s640/11-campsite.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am camped alone. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I had time after my 2000 calorie dinner to just think about home. I miss my wife. I miss my daughter and my step-son. I miss my dogs. I wonder if my youngest dog will even remember me when I get home.</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: medium;">1. For more information on the source of the three A's see: <a href="https://www.thehikinglife.com/2018/06/the-three-as-2/">https://www.thehikinglife.com/2018/06/the-three-as-2/</a></span>Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-86656406860739818632018-06-20T15:46:00.000-06:002018-06-20T16:28:53.726-06:00PCT - Day 59: 6/16/2018 - Broken Tent, Resupply, and Delaney Creek<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 17.9 from 933.6 - 951.5</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 18.8</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3PnaX104dsbupPWfV3lQNONKHQpwwk2_xFo9zhTaSAVm3qLMdocXtSW4tTKcHm0Ta4qeOkeonMSBu2A0kYnMG65-xSvT83YXnE7MiN7hrE5v5dhHrS36m3jedvz1aalAGPd5GCCIPNAEo/s1600/1-morning-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3PnaX104dsbupPWfV3lQNONKHQpwwk2_xFo9zhTaSAVm3qLMdocXtSW4tTKcHm0Ta4qeOkeonMSBu2A0kYnMG65-xSvT83YXnE7MiN7hrE5v5dhHrS36m3jedvz1aalAGPd5GCCIPNAEo/s640/1-morning-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The zipper on the mesh part of my tent had been giving me some trouble for a couple weeks. After getting up to go to the bathroom at 4:45 am, it failed completely. This is always nice when you are deep in mosquito country. Since there’s no cell service out here, I asked Sleeping Beauty to help me by contacting my wife when she finishes the JMT on Sunday. Hopefully I can get a new tent soon.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR2E6l7fhCAd_blCqMOwOwH-zGYc63P5mjOi-fh96F-GUWZ7mSv2wqMdTPcQKYTdewqeKVcbOJBwEjhxjfuIS5PlPUVL3NPl4IKpTSksWTRoiKN5woXPIvo5Sbx5DOJ9ZsOrv8KT3KSjOC/s1600/2-flats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR2E6l7fhCAd_blCqMOwOwH-zGYc63P5mjOi-fh96F-GUWZ7mSv2wqMdTPcQKYTdewqeKVcbOJBwEjhxjfuIS5PlPUVL3NPl4IKpTSksWTRoiKN5woXPIvo5Sbx5DOJ9ZsOrv8KT3KSjOC/s640/2-flats.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the morning we left camp at 6:30 am and hiked nine miles to the Tuolumne Meadows Post Office which is on a main road in Yosemite National Park. The morning was frigid and we hiked quickly past grazing deer and a beautiful meadow. The trail was quite muddy and in one particular section I attempted to jump a mud puddle and slipped on the landing. I ended flat on my back in the mud, sort of like the character Vinny in the movie My Cousin Vinny.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbEmqiCVfOKLZK3fl4mELy9D49BCbQ5dBZoSegFtc-PHDEkMihy3udiXZg1YCfScHMh7kiIy_1JLE9OgVlZKD1wc-px8hj7CWhvg-GC3CkySzzVYCDnT7WglMk5oz_HyjbcD6qq-YvRdfa/s1600/4-tuolumme-po.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbEmqiCVfOKLZK3fl4mELy9D49BCbQ5dBZoSegFtc-PHDEkMihy3udiXZg1YCfScHMh7kiIy_1JLE9OgVlZKD1wc-px8hj7CWhvg-GC3CkySzzVYCDnT7WglMk5oz_HyjbcD6qq-YvRdfa/s640/4-tuolumme-po.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tuolumme Meadows Post Office (and Grill?)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We arrived there around 10 am and went into hiker trash mode rather swiftly. Within minutes we had pack explosions on picnic tables. I was sorting out resupply items while I ate a breakfast sandwich, a cinnamon roll, a side of bacon, an ice cream bar, and a bag of Chili Cheese Fritos. I was also alternating between drinking Pepsi and beer.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIemfSfGu2LN50eDCpVoid3OcBvEE6oG4aBkfqGftLLk4hMyQZhFiNtiZ0duqH9DAOPiShXj7c9UMpBRhWlfdiAFAYF-4QJKUb7wNOihyphenhyphenO4jLG-vp9nD3hc8FeqNriIfYfiwiuvjBNSkC/s1600/5-resupply-belly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIemfSfGu2LN50eDCpVoid3OcBvEE6oG4aBkfqGftLLk4hMyQZhFiNtiZ0duqH9DAOPiShXj7c9UMpBRhWlfdiAFAYF-4QJKUb7wNOihyphenhyphenO4jLG-vp9nD3hc8FeqNriIfYfiwiuvjBNSkC/s640/5-resupply-belly.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nothing like Chili Cheese Frito's and Beer</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmhf7aNIZOkrffsCV_8zaePbfVZIlybM8NO_FpRoz9oaa2KIoEamA7sOjnvU5-OTr7dzhf-OuwS_x8cKStF0GLGj3cx9OTmqoBRMkLoNOkRbnHWoz2DNDUN2cVxCglwDdFM0BDGurW7BB/s1600/3-hiker-trash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmhf7aNIZOkrffsCV_8zaePbfVZIlybM8NO_FpRoz9oaa2KIoEamA7sOjnvU5-OTr7dzhf-OuwS_x8cKStF0GLGj3cx9OTmqoBRMkLoNOkRbnHWoz2DNDUN2cVxCglwDdFM0BDGurW7BB/s640/3-hiker-trash.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiker Trash Mode</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There must have been 20 thru hikers just loitering out front of this place that was a Post Office, Grille, and General Store all in one. The only downside of this place, other than the nonstop flow of tourists, is there are no showers or laundry facilities here. Ziploc didn’t let this stop her from washing her socks, underwear, and shirt in the bathroom sink, and then lay it on a rock in the sun to dry. I was too lazy to do that so guess I’m going to have to go four more days without clean clothes or a shower.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVBvyaBICchA0e2sCc0QpwyQW4dPaQkIgz_vAZ0GH3FQAm9PkeDCUpE5t3_sVYE56hOgffwGwPkMl2Jef7fuB5j7VlL2tKaMKDaSI2ekJmDTILoNymxM3kNNAU5j1HCyqOJcKyzDHJwf9U/s1600/6-drying-panties.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVBvyaBICchA0e2sCc0QpwyQW4dPaQkIgz_vAZ0GH3FQAm9PkeDCUpE5t3_sVYE56hOgffwGwPkMl2Jef7fuB5j7VlL2tKaMKDaSI2ekJmDTILoNymxM3kNNAU5j1HCyqOJcKyzDHJwf9U/s640/6-drying-panties.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drying Panties and Socks</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We chilled in the sun by the road looking like homeless people. After a few hours, we finally extracted ourselves from society again. We hiked a half mile or so together until we got to the JMT/PCT split. We hugged Sleeping Beauty, said goodbye and wished her the best on her last day on the JMT. I then watched as my friend hiked away. I’m really going to miss her. She has been my best friend over the past two years, and I hope our argument from a few days ago doesn’t kill that.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6n0X-zo25rcY6dJowlFR5f7gqZmJ1ZguZf4X8pStodc-eq1tbKC-Wr0lB8D4-0B4FuLzA9W2ZWXKR7p6uf4eCZ0Hw6PG53OByFqdbW-pUsP7yHvfQ3G551ZNVJw18OoD5pavEWCPgTeF/s1600/8-sb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6n0X-zo25rcY6dJowlFR5f7gqZmJ1ZguZf4X8pStodc-eq1tbKC-Wr0lB8D4-0B4FuLzA9W2ZWXKR7p6uf4eCZ0Hw6PG53OByFqdbW-pUsP7yHvfQ3G551ZNVJw18OoD5pavEWCPgTeF/s640/8-sb.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sleeping Beatuy on JMT</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ziploc and I still had over 1700 miles left in our journey, so we decided to keep moving. We hiked for about another half a mile and while walking on perfectly flat ground, I again sprained my right ankle. It’s about the hundredth time I’ve done this so it’s not new for me to hike along slowly in significant pain for hours or sometimes a couple days. Let me clarify, it may not be new, but it still hurts and it still sucks. Ziploc hiked on ahead while I crutched along with my trekking poles grimacing in pain with each step. I took a couple Ibuprofen and a pain killer and within forty minutes, I was moving at an acceptable pace again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hobbled down a rocky trail towards a intense sounding waterfall. It was the Tuolumne Falls and they did not disappoint. It was spectacular! Little rainbows appeared in the misty spray in the breeze. I found Ziploc waiting for me there too.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKcKnzHnzHOrKXcQd9oDLAe3PSDQ6wMfy6FGM7Hgh7UBIts5aeAg33zK1WyEdi6UrMYyjMk9x_qzPxDgRzvkPf5Y3n2iXnz43h25-qwYGbeDEKZqRw7aOMutTaoVV0D4Y4VqyoTDbQWLpX/s1600/9-falls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKcKnzHnzHOrKXcQd9oDLAe3PSDQ6wMfy6FGM7Hgh7UBIts5aeAg33zK1WyEdi6UrMYyjMk9x_qzPxDgRzvkPf5Y3n2iXnz43h25-qwYGbeDEKZqRw7aOMutTaoVV0D4Y4VqyoTDbQWLpX/s640/9-falls.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tuolumne Falls</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">After the falls, I stopped at a smaller waterfall and rinsed my gross smelling shirt. We then plodded along for a few more miles gaining elevation and losing light as the forest thickened around us.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk901MaI4mZMk04JGHqfbZsb1sttHbGbIwNH9gtV7LNrzReQC0oTaBdcAmmBrucWxy8fexAa1xeG8ZwTXq4Rf-PeX8-WaG90lR3wk08RP4FqUpMoGP7i4pg9hvsn7gk1M369KTCRdxJxQy/s1600/10-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk901MaI4mZMk04JGHqfbZsb1sttHbGbIwNH9gtV7LNrzReQC0oTaBdcAmmBrucWxy8fexAa1xeG8ZwTXq4Rf-PeX8-WaG90lR3wk08RP4FqUpMoGP7i4pg9hvsn7gk1M369KTCRdxJxQy/s640/10-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We setup camp and as fate would have it, I broke a tent pole while setting up my already broken tent. Ziploc helped me repair it enough that I could get it to work, but now my need for a new tent is even higher.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNXhYckuNF2wtYSInR69OhUoltNufLVYRuzzwDMqPhGP6OqJstFJQzXvSTd3xMTOFAaVzRNCrgpO5VTiBUQbFB4zq-aQJTg2D5P9KEcSMY2OdY8bdaNwwVsFG9a2TXBonfU2NHdKPaKN-H/s1600/11-campsite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNXhYckuNF2wtYSInR69OhUoltNufLVYRuzzwDMqPhGP6OqJstFJQzXvSTd3xMTOFAaVzRNCrgpO5VTiBUQbFB4zq-aQJTg2D5P9KEcSMY2OdY8bdaNwwVsFG9a2TXBonfU2NHdKPaKN-H/s640/11-campsite.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ziploc and I decided tonight while eating dinner that we would not take a zero day until we get to South Lake Tahoe in about 140 more miles. Assuming my body doesn’t come apart at the seams like my tent is doing, this would mean we will have hiked the entire Sierra section of the PCT without a zero day. Some say that’s crazy. I might be one of them saying that too, but at this point it sort of makes sense to just go for it.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjyyPCoeYaet30cNSXLeH8eBGV2wzBmVKH2ASC-z3YoXpEhgByNzAgpMBVnTMMx5fYGnMb3C1b0p4A-DVx63ck3wDtHxIahqApmlOmftEqPWleCAO7naSqY0iI5Ahyphenhyphen19Isq9fcLh8pQB7q/s1600/7-guthook.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjyyPCoeYaet30cNSXLeH8eBGV2wzBmVKH2ASC-z3YoXpEhgByNzAgpMBVnTMMx5fYGnMb3C1b0p4A-DVx63ck3wDtHxIahqApmlOmftEqPWleCAO7naSqY0iI5Ahyphenhyphen19Isq9fcLh8pQB7q/s640/7-guthook.png" width="360" /></a></div>
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue;">(editor comment: </span><span style="color: blue;">T</span><span style="color: blue;">his </span><span style="color: blue;">photo was in the set of pictures Adam set, without any description about it. </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><br />However, it is a creek named after a special person. </span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">I put in here to let he know she has a creek named after her.)</span><br />
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<br />Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-67397724431915899562018-06-20T12:34:00.001-06:002018-06-21T07:33:44.962-06:00PCT - Day 58: 6/15/2018 - Donohue Pass, Ziplock and Sleeping Beauty<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 17.6 from 916.0 - 933.6</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 19.3</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Last night, I decided to stop blogging. I switched my blog to “private”; and for a few hours yesterday it was so. I did this because my writing it’s unfiltered. It’s often an all too clear view into my thoughts, my weaknesses, and my fears. I worried that I would be judged by family, friends, or coworkers that may read it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then I got a message from a guy I’ve never met named Kevin. Oddly enough, I got this message on Facebook Messenger while writing in my tent last night. I’m paraphrasing, but his message basically asked “Hey what happened to the blog? I really enjoyed reading it.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I didn’t realize that more that just a few friends and family were reading this, so I looked at the stats and saw that I am getting several hundred hits a day. I was surprised at the stats and touched by the message. I decided that the worst thing that may come from people reading the musings of a guy hiking the PCT with bipolar disorder is that people may judge me for being real. If that’s the case, so be it. My “real” may not be your “real”, but that’s why the world works. We all have different fears, perspectives, and experiences. Those lead to different decisions and different emotions. These are just my points of view, and my emotions. Anyway, thanks Kevin, and thanks to all the others out there reading and scrutinizing my waning sanity as I proceed northward on the Pacific Crest Trail.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">—</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I began my day after a poor night of sleep that was plagued with muscle cramps and sliding into the bottom of my tent repeatedly, thanks to a not so flat campsite.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ4l0xTNZeVNpEOByN697wntkyxJPnJrC8xNNMA9pgELLlHtWe2ij0zp6nNDlM-G1B3SwzgZUm1OWUYjaN8ey2nOOdygjp9meqRzFHBiIzFURhzIhxY8_HGhFVVwwCfTMfejhCCeqO_O7p/s1600/1-morning-mountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ4l0xTNZeVNpEOByN697wntkyxJPnJrC8xNNMA9pgELLlHtWe2ij0zp6nNDlM-G1B3SwzgZUm1OWUYjaN8ey2nOOdygjp9meqRzFHBiIzFURhzIhxY8_HGhFVVwwCfTMfejhCCeqO_O7p/s640/1-morning-mountain.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The morning views across the valley were beautiful. I could see and hear a waterfall coming out of Shadow Lake. I pressed on in solo hiking mode until I was caught doing my Jon Bon Jovi vocals impersonation by a southbound JMT hiker. She smiled and said “Hi” as I immediately ceased my singing of “Wanted dead or alive”.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1hnmO4cHAgqZu3fhIeNIQbEfbfhCGgFhBtuXWWodH-utkEVLuaMtYo0X4i7uOapNUqY6YO5WZs2qxGfDV0nIKE78QnJH-1i77jWQAiJUoPSCH_t6Fw6f3Ip-We3HzoQpZRjb1mkF0VIJK/s1600/2-creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1hnmO4cHAgqZu3fhIeNIQbEfbfhCGgFhBtuXWWodH-utkEVLuaMtYo0X4i7uOapNUqY6YO5WZs2qxGfDV0nIKE78QnJH-1i77jWQAiJUoPSCH_t6Fw6f3Ip-We3HzoQpZRjb1mkF0VIJK/s640/2-creek.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was trying to hike quickly in the morning since I had to go over Island Pass and Donohue Pass today.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hiked up to Thousand Island Lake half expecting a lake filled with salad dressing. Instead, I found an aptly named spectacular lake. Little islands dotted the surface.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpb81oHFQXBqtU6m6STp5HkbwWhJR5U5G7TX_rmPby0lJUP7tgvzKx8AbGxk4PgbP1Ojx9BClcup7tbFXsICb_biF3xq7hrsoyWljOqmklCEfrOo-C0plnTwKiHXLAmoIWQyfL-ZAlzhN/s1600/3-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpb81oHFQXBqtU6m6STp5HkbwWhJR5U5G7TX_rmPby0lJUP7tgvzKx8AbGxk4PgbP1Ojx9BClcup7tbFXsICb_biF3xq7hrsoyWljOqmklCEfrOo-C0plnTwKiHXLAmoIWQyfL-ZAlzhN/s640/3-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thousand Island Lake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I hurried up Island Pass which was mostly snow free or at least snow-avoidable. On the ascent, I re-aggregated my ailing right ankle. It was not as bad as the day on Muir Pass, but close. After the anticlimactic top of Island Pass, I hobbled down a mile or so very slowly. I crossed a creek at the bottom of the descent, walked a couple hundred yards more to a sunny spot where I was hoping to avoid mosquitoes. I then sat down for a break. After two minutes, I had not yet been swarmed, so I decided to eat an early lunch there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Forty five minutes later as I was wrapping up a long lunch, I heard a hiker approaching. It was Ziploc AND Sleeping Beauty!</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5BP2wMssX4E9h01-eHgplIW2cvn0CjSIDMYy_VPKHCmOPg6HbhgBMoJq0s38-OXMydf8KeiZaq5e0z0eW44854R_hBJd4N1a_K2dRSlKpO8YH27nqXJSpNFaF79u0Ea5IJZzG2ub2tL2/s1600/4-sleeping-beauty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5BP2wMssX4E9h01-eHgplIW2cvn0CjSIDMYy_VPKHCmOPg6HbhgBMoJq0s38-OXMydf8KeiZaq5e0z0eW44854R_hBJd4N1a_K2dRSlKpO8YH27nqXJSpNFaF79u0Ea5IJZzG2ub2tL2/s640/4-sleeping-beauty.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sleeping Beauty</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">I was not really surprised to see Ziploc since I knew she was behind me, but I was very surprised to see Sleeping Beauty. Back around Thousand Island Lake the JMT and PCT rejoined after being separated for approximately 14 miles. As fate would have it, Sleeping Beauty and Ziploc crossed paths ten minutes before seeing me. Now here we all were once again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I invited them to sit with me and eat lunch. We did, and things weren’t even weird. I thought we all felt that it was sort of odd that we met randomly again considering we’d all left VVR a few days ago at three separate times. We had also all camped separately last night. We shared lunch with smiles and shared some stories from our solo days.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After lunch, we continued towards Donohue Pass, or so we thought. After descending more than I thought, I took a look at the map and discovered we were about .75 miles off trail on a different trail. We doubled back and found an obscure sign we’d missed earlier at a creek crossing, but after 1.5 bonus miles, we were back on the PCT again.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN8SHDIhO7Wc6YZgzdnnAzr9GPVeyfCvT02bgi_6CJ8clmc3uT_HeMtV6_sV5EUhX2K0vkZVD-kGNEhTTK9gl66CydqPOrD3aoFAOZ7R6ljoFAMLdU1MGn7HDnHNcXGdE8M5wLGCgoQpQl/s1600/5-lake2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN8SHDIhO7Wc6YZgzdnnAzr9GPVeyfCvT02bgi_6CJ8clmc3uT_HeMtV6_sV5EUhX2K0vkZVD-kGNEhTTK9gl66CydqPOrD3aoFAOZ7R6ljoFAMLdU1MGn7HDnHNcXGdE8M5wLGCgoQpQl/s640/5-lake2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At 12:30 pm we began the climb up Donohue Pass where we leapfrogged with an older guy named Spook. The “trail”, if you could even call it that, was like an obstacle course where the challenge was to keep your feet dry. We must’ve crossed over a hundred streams or creeks in about four miles. When it wasn’t water, it was mud. Either way, we eventually clicked of a mile at a time, and found ourselves on the top of a very windy pass. I had achieved 100% dry feet, but my hiking mates not so much. I found a small spot shielded from the worst part of the wind and decided to sunbathe a bit while Sleeping Beauty tended to a blister on her foot. Ziploc joined me with her ninja look on full display.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6_uwuWevlwNedqx7jfDJ1Y8sLK_VXv1cUqpF_3yURfAFbHZHbTRuCCqF4065ik3aZeUHM2kjz_RaDEt7o7RKRnhgIADeoSkneqokTHzUZ1QGI3u3mFE1rJlbS7AdeHKk3ofIKBuUvRhJu/s1600/6-sunbathing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="926" data-original-width="696" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6_uwuWevlwNedqx7jfDJ1Y8sLK_VXv1cUqpF_3yURfAFbHZHbTRuCCqF4065ik3aZeUHM2kjz_RaDEt7o7RKRnhgIADeoSkneqokTHzUZ1QGI3u3mFE1rJlbS7AdeHKk3ofIKBuUvRhJu/s640/6-sunbathing.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunbathing Circus Act and Ninja Ziplock</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The hike down Donohue Pass was our entrance into Yosemite National Park. The descent was also easier than I thought it’d be. We mostly avoided snow and soon were standing at a surreal place named Lyell Fork. The water was crystal clear and glimmered in the sunlight.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTYLPhMMg25qgv_N_NIu6QNvYDi1fNEAxJU8ZGQdEcIbyUKPuuczUm4fwrDn2ADyIIJc4nnj5fKh4Lt86kG7vJYIuEy-GjeywXnSzvtG4OjMXrGHBMpIY-FP9BBNxMld065Mlrm3rXqtst/s1600/7-ziplock-SB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTYLPhMMg25qgv_N_NIu6QNvYDi1fNEAxJU8ZGQdEcIbyUKPuuczUm4fwrDn2ADyIIJc4nnj5fKh4Lt86kG7vJYIuEy-GjeywXnSzvtG4OjMXrGHBMpIY-FP9BBNxMld065Mlrm3rXqtst/s640/7-ziplock-SB.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We stopped for pictures but eventually began a long slog down a steep and challenging trail. We sarcastically wondering aloud if the trail builders were just doing weird shit with rocks just to fuck with us hikers.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wJc1vuUOwbQ-nNluFeRXWUK39Ww6jHioImSn0JF-O2R44ivBySPuEPpuNxkeh4xePBOEbfjt5bfZiGOs2bxGQ47ZSWjPN5o-J0ue5E5yUk-kAGqTTqXRNvKJC_8WfV9EBxb1vsmbIBr3/s1600/8-lake3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wJc1vuUOwbQ-nNluFeRXWUK39Ww6jHioImSn0JF-O2R44ivBySPuEPpuNxkeh4xePBOEbfjt5bfZiGOs2bxGQ47ZSWjPN5o-J0ue5E5yUk-kAGqTTqXRNvKJC_8WfV9EBxb1vsmbIBr3/s640/8-lake3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIKPDACltZADP1Rfbh0XyXIKRIfSSNAYy1Bg-PJNiJWtEP2HIg4sIdK6ZjJnT66Yk0H0bGMupV0QvBs0oq-6-YRV9Wmsov5koO-PdbJD59rZFBZ6UWVDAXItiJjbrnZWMlbgaZQ_uU_RAf/s1600/9-in-creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIKPDACltZADP1Rfbh0XyXIKRIfSSNAYy1Bg-PJNiJWtEP2HIg4sIdK6ZjJnT66Yk0H0bGMupV0QvBs0oq-6-YRV9Wmsov5koO-PdbJD59rZFBZ6UWVDAXItiJjbrnZWMlbgaZQ_uU_RAf/s640/9-in-creek.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After fording the Lyell Fork and having my foot dryness immediately drop from 100% dry to 0%, the terrain opened up and exposed a gorgeous meadow.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7NPUWKSMXprRMcgzOUGyELLF8ks88H-MN8hNmELVRp9kzavY_XGxManTjRBVIuKydrZOV6lSgBNMpSjo-Sssz1NOUfWoD5nmUEiU1FfrEo2NkH18sltLYFRWH-2yRY8-eyxfKSi4V71vw/s1600/10-cliff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7NPUWKSMXprRMcgzOUGyELLF8ks88H-MN8hNmELVRp9kzavY_XGxManTjRBVIuKydrZOV6lSgBNMpSjo-Sssz1NOUfWoD5nmUEiU1FfrEo2NkH18sltLYFRWH-2yRY8-eyxfKSi4V71vw/s640/10-cliff.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We camped in the forest at the meadow’s edge and had a “we have too much food and we are resupplying tomorrow” feast. It was great to share a day with my friends again. Sleeping Beauty will be done her JMT hike and heading home on Sunday. As for Ziploc, she’s on a tight schedule and needs to crush miles to get to Canada by mid-September. I don’t know if we’ll continue hiking together or not. I’m just happy for this one day with my two friends.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0LuLkhH461K9wNhRZuJvWqkNBHaoiwu0JsIiZZZp7Bhk0fvrn-XIsuYNiOMrJzAJeD40mP911K4E6GNeADZFXAAK4t0u7UFehHbJde1tBrVsWJObA4gAkXr00WpqRu0IP2BrEZr3p7-jy/s1600/11-evening-creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0LuLkhH461K9wNhRZuJvWqkNBHaoiwu0JsIiZZZp7Bhk0fvrn-XIsuYNiOMrJzAJeD40mP911K4E6GNeADZFXAAK4t0u7UFehHbJde1tBrVsWJObA4gAkXr00WpqRu0IP2BrEZr3p7-jy/s640/11-evening-creek.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A funny sidebar conversation that came up today. While we were descending Donohue Pass, Sleeping Beauty told the story from history of people who resorted to cannibalism on similarly named Donner Pass way back in the day after getting trapped in a fierce snowstorm. This then led to us talking about the book “Alive”. Then jokingly, I mentioned that both Ziploc and Sleeping Beauty could probably survive for a week on one of my thighs. Ziploc then said “Your thigh would be too lean. I’d eat your ass since it’d have a better mixture of meat and fat for better flavor. But, I’d trim off your ass chafe first.” This received roaring laughter from both Sleeping Beauty and myself. I was laughing so hard that it stopped me in my tracks. It’s moments like this I really missed when rocking out my solo days.</span>Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-71736753643100902722018-06-15T04:59:00.000-06:002018-06-15T05:02:38.761-06:00PCT - Day 57: 6/14/2018 - Crushing Miles<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 24.6 from 891.4 - 916.0</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles: 25.8</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtNcEe2OozPbOBSQgF9KoRmQ0RYwWfL5Yw3NuBuARb2mvBGKvb8MK4Y_WD2CPdwFkh1F_klZtv_NT0Nvn9GffJhm21T0P2JUwPZsb9lH0SMD1rXe2GQNgJTM85LGwLnZpXrK-DDtCM8H4/s1600/1-mountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtNcEe2OozPbOBSQgF9KoRmQ0RYwWfL5Yw3NuBuARb2mvBGKvb8MK4Y_WD2CPdwFkh1F_klZtv_NT0Nvn9GffJhm21T0P2JUwPZsb9lH0SMD1rXe2GQNgJTM85LGwLnZpXrK-DDtCM8H4/s640/1-mountain.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">I put on a clean, dry pair of socks this morning. My feet were 100% dry... for about three minutes. I had the option of fording a lake inlet or rock hopping. I chose the latter. The rocks were spaced such that maybe a NBA player could have hopped these with ease, but I’m 5’ 7”</span><sup><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">1</span></sup><span style="font-size: large;">. I slipped off a rock and ended up thigh high in the lake. So much for my dry feet.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I smirked, because what a better way to start a long day of hiking than falling into a lake.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEJpw5gvDVKumqxT6glbFvAJkRPgUfNGJaGXh4D-uB8VrQqoERYXEYL6Z6AKq5Y3mL0OSIhU1R-2y0Y8gSleexHZxJ7KsAt1w-2Cv63rc5CBhSRIvMTSnkP2rGiPN5TMOqh7K3RxnH1-CO/s1600/3-creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEJpw5gvDVKumqxT6glbFvAJkRPgUfNGJaGXh4D-uB8VrQqoERYXEYL6Z6AKq5Y3mL0OSIhU1R-2y0Y8gSleexHZxJ7KsAt1w-2Cv63rc5CBhSRIvMTSnkP2rGiPN5TMOqh7K3RxnH1-CO/s640/3-creek.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mile 900 was on the radar this morning, and I hiked with a purpose, which is still slower than most people. I hiked by Purple Lake, which is so poorly named. I was then on a trail that meandered through the trees for much of the rest of the day.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-INm_l9SVE8a9_vxoQD_CLaX7S2GV_g_bEZs9r7zCMJhD2VNrscz5iwHz4jqNCrTiE1EY1ep8zAntoKfXh8xduvkm_yF3zkVr5pFqUBI5MAnctCsLRn51jSKzjNgo2sAU01syRw4hGuz4/s1600/2-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-INm_l9SVE8a9_vxoQD_CLaX7S2GV_g_bEZs9r7zCMJhD2VNrscz5iwHz4jqNCrTiE1EY1ep8zAntoKfXh8xduvkm_yF3zkVr5pFqUBI5MAnctCsLRn51jSKzjNgo2sAU01syRw4hGuz4/s640/2-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">All morning I was considering quitting the PCT because it’s really hard on me mentally. When I saw the rocks spelling “900” laid out on the side of the trail, I thought of my daughter.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4GpD7oA8NDSNWriBqhKVgwiEvFfkTwMk__bP6BFa1HO0HL3j2ICLN2Sc58MG1WeWO2rPcbuT6d6U-btB8mVzo4AWDfmadp9g-z3nTx5vywT3JHlA_8HDEO50lUGtM7U3z8mGpndhuwPNg/s1600/4-900-miles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4GpD7oA8NDSNWriBqhKVgwiEvFfkTwMk__bP6BFa1HO0HL3j2ICLN2Sc58MG1WeWO2rPcbuT6d6U-btB8mVzo4AWDfmadp9g-z3nTx5vywT3JHlA_8HDEO50lUGtM7U3z8mGpndhuwPNg/s640/4-900-miles.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Clipped to my pack for every adventure I have been on since my daughter was age two is a plastic bracelet that she made for me. It’s faded now, but it has beads that read “Delaney <span style="color: red;">❤️</span> Dad”. This bracelet has now made it over 900 miles on the PCT. This bracelet was also with me for the entire Colorado Trail. It was on my pack last year for the hike I did with my Dad of the WRT. It has been on my pack for hundreds of hikes and climbs of 14ers & 13ers in Colorado. It’s been there through post-holing, falls off logs into creeks, 60 mph freezing winds on Mt Lady Washington, a glissade of the Refrigerator Couloir, bushwhacking a 26 mile day across the Gore range, a fall down a few ledges in the Red Gully on Crestone Peak, so many gnarly ridge traverses, and many other crazy times. One might think a plastic bracelet clipped to the outside of a pack wouldn’t last this long. But it’s still there, and as long as it’s still there, I’ll still be hiking the PCT.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qC_v4A_RJkJ68yHS0xahkTWKg4EaYhYDJgnTTAhNa32V7twsvmg30JisyWCksooOS4ZusCiHh1sHupB2bmGQnfHiIm2HsXMIBISCgIGEi4n8Hkjhdu-73YnmAn_PTuRysj-xkcAK63i3/s1600/7-two-deer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qC_v4A_RJkJ68yHS0xahkTWKg4EaYhYDJgnTTAhNa32V7twsvmg30JisyWCksooOS4ZusCiHh1sHupB2bmGQnfHiIm2HsXMIBISCgIGEi4n8Hkjhdu-73YnmAn_PTuRysj-xkcAK63i3/s640/7-two-deer.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9O4FhJSmOmanlvcI-2roY-lnxDJTJk_M-kNACums49t7p8TKlqwlvkm7py9-cAmHYjHYjtwbEKfmiRkjqkLtBNUxIR0Zfd0aj4olvyPYRJrCLxEMLySjvnf0arC8-KW33rGP9_y2EbiWD/s1600/8-rocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9O4FhJSmOmanlvcI-2roY-lnxDJTJk_M-kNACums49t7p8TKlqwlvkm7py9-cAmHYjHYjtwbEKfmiRkjqkLtBNUxIR0Zfd0aj4olvyPYRJrCLxEMLySjvnf0arC8-KW33rGP9_y2EbiWD/s640/8-rocks.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Butterflies have been circling me off and on for three days now. Big yellow Monarch butterflies. My friends this morning were these butterflies and of course the Chesse-Burg-Er birds that I like to whistle at.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEEUAXFGWnTPqWigKuzwXNAPS8diFtcuafS4VHLDot3Vy-p0wLV2c9efqzKQ8b0zraiCVfpZwF8VH6T95roFba-kNYRxk7IPSUQZhctKaEp1D0AZu-IT8HX57Hi_8eVJlzE-JQXDVsmp92/s1600/5-trees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEEUAXFGWnTPqWigKuzwXNAPS8diFtcuafS4VHLDot3Vy-p0wLV2c9efqzKQ8b0zraiCVfpZwF8VH6T95roFba-kNYRxk7IPSUQZhctKaEp1D0AZu-IT8HX57Hi_8eVJlzE-JQXDVsmp92/s640/5-trees.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I realized today that my next resupply is at Tuolumne Meadows Post Office, which is closed Sunday which was the day I thought I’d be arriving. This forced a change of plans. I would hike my ass off today and Friday just to make it to the post office before it closes at 1:00 pm on Saturday.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguzPpnCBDiaxUmq-LwVfjse9V7o_fVx7HT-q0L58O9aiaTKiyFoMl28yHyZq_ZzNMgPNmwduFK5fRVW52Wl6SGnpt_Ro8-aXHkif4GH5O_Q738ybj9yAuA4Thb81Giyf43jFrhN_0NSsWj/s1600/9-cliff-straws.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguzPpnCBDiaxUmq-LwVfjse9V7o_fVx7HT-q0L58O9aiaTKiyFoMl28yHyZq_ZzNMgPNmwduFK5fRVW52Wl6SGnpt_Ro8-aXHkif4GH5O_Q738ybj9yAuA4Thb81Giyf43jFrhN_0NSsWj/s640/9-cliff-straws.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After about nine miles, I was sitting on the side of the trail eating lunch and using a cell signal for the first time in a long time when, to my surprise, Ziploc came hiking down the trail. I used this opportunity to apologize, but it sort of fell on deaf ears, because I’d been an asshole. I guess sometimes bridges that are burned remain burnt. I ultimately packed up, said goodbye, and hiked for another fifteen miles. I only stopped briefly to get water or take sand out of my shoes.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifLnhLaaJy5nOkEUPsl3DjbfbNr5s-tZgnNk_8_Ql0AJjO2X1xmazKiVp2TR6HFqjDeo_mnrx7me3tf0-ELcJYRtqNUlu-HED4DG7x25GrTA_V0SRTKsyoK1RRkKbFEA9McxaHsOORctlG/s1600/6-burned.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifLnhLaaJy5nOkEUPsl3DjbfbNr5s-tZgnNk_8_Ql0AJjO2X1xmazKiVp2TR6HFqjDeo_mnrx7me3tf0-ELcJYRtqNUlu-HED4DG7x25GrTA_V0SRTKsyoK1RRkKbFEA9McxaHsOORctlG/s640/6-burned.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hiked through a burn area just before the junction to Red’s Meadow Resort. I hiked right past the junction with no interest in having a shower or a burger. I just wanted to crush miles today. I started making a mental bucket list of places I want to see before I die. One of the places not on that list is Minaret Falls, but damn for waterfall lovers, this is a must see. Pictures don’t do it justice.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7oogXevJwEoQx5WqTQbxRCzWNQ9kabc3ETD-Jr1ogOKiMmGb9wmFM_cqmrT4R2xjZHZlVjNHaFSmbW6Hrp342QrjQT1x_Z9C1Rd1eQiq_DrLoPlIYkjiz29VEQyVTTdP4Phwvhi4f7A6O/s1600/10-falls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1555" data-original-width="874" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7oogXevJwEoQx5WqTQbxRCzWNQ9kabc3ETD-Jr1ogOKiMmGb9wmFM_cqmrT4R2xjZHZlVjNHaFSmbW6Hrp342QrjQT1x_Z9C1Rd1eQiq_DrLoPlIYkjiz29VEQyVTTdP4Phwvhi4f7A6O/s640/10-falls.jpg" width="359" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Minaret Falls</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For several miles I was surrounded by thick forest, only briefly broken by a small meadow or pond. I also hiked through the Devils Postpile National Monument, which was sort of a letdown. After entering the Ansel Adams Wilderness, aspens and thick pines grew together like long lost friends.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvVjjO0zgfc1L_-hIMsoP0Ek9HXCXk61-u31MEMWfntyHF6GfLyCERzw7nYgwdu9zrTBUNakXeX-zjbD8pUVbRHsom66rwcgOnocEeujgt3vHQgGGqNtmAPaADFrrSsd-5dBoUAWduUc3/s1600/12-ansel-sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1166" data-original-width="1555" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvVjjO0zgfc1L_-hIMsoP0Ek9HXCXk61-u31MEMWfntyHF6GfLyCERzw7nYgwdu9zrTBUNakXeX-zjbD8pUVbRHsom66rwcgOnocEeujgt3vHQgGGqNtmAPaADFrrSsd-5dBoUAWduUc3/s640/12-ansel-sign.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hiked to a solo campsite and watched the sunset while eating Ramen Noodles, Pecans, Cheese & Crackers, and the rest of the Oreos.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5KJDKcEPm4dufImXqYDRZw5swvlm79b_w0MrbGXMuH7zjwI8ilodurm2t4m6Kov7sJx5sc4DwizNZT2-TF_SUFEzz7V76BQ5zHwyWGHgzOc5GLQs9wACWrE2QGbajg67sylhqWi-aTIHQ/s1600/13-campsite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5KJDKcEPm4dufImXqYDRZw5swvlm79b_w0MrbGXMuH7zjwI8ilodurm2t4m6Kov7sJx5sc4DwizNZT2-TF_SUFEzz7V76BQ5zHwyWGHgzOc5GLQs9wACWrE2QGbajg67sylhqWi-aTIHQ/s640/13-campsite.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I tried to imagine what it is I’m hoping to get out of hiking the PCT. I still have no idea why I’m out here.</span><br />
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<i><span style="color: blue;">1. - editor's note: You are NOT 5' 7". I didn't know if you made a typo or were trying to be like a NBA player and lie about your height. </span></i>Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-59823749265809303292018-06-14T14:06:00.002-06:002018-06-14T14:06:44.021-06:00PCT - Day 56: 6/13/2018 - Lakes, Loneliness, and Frogs <br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 12.7 from 878.7 - 891.4</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 17.3 (yay bonus miles!)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNyqWqMtPewy8OqMc94bGaZwRnFNoYSqyIsaGDaXeUlZYdpXcl8wDw-RSBecRI9KIdtGjs6bxzrj7XZlcAkrRzYy1rUILpeZ5Rms20XAlwAu_JDaSLokCQdGVyqvHIudElkoJRxE5WG_GU/s1600/2-signs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNyqWqMtPewy8OqMc94bGaZwRnFNoYSqyIsaGDaXeUlZYdpXcl8wDw-RSBecRI9KIdtGjs6bxzrj7XZlcAkrRzYy1rUILpeZ5Rms20XAlwAu_JDaSLokCQdGVyqvHIudElkoJRxE5WG_GU/s640/2-signs.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Leaving VVR this morning was a mixed bag. I was itching to get out of there since it’s a black hole where money goes to live. I ate four meals, bought a few things to supplement my resupply package, picked up a resupply package, drank five beers, bought a $7 shower, and paid $7 for laundry. After I bought a one way ferry ride back to the trail, my final tab was $169. That’s a little insane seeing as I spent less than 24 hours there.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOM4BMRV6dkJSjTriqaWN4WBoK-RbunRyhf8Mm0r6IUEYkYwI47hbV5hHkk5U6vPFu38x4j7EGx9an4hMNvYGV3NRCiwQewY7NqtO5lxq7yLVGSpZy3MuuZAOu8dH_pwVXI-66y7TKrsRJ/s1600/1-VRR-ferry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOM4BMRV6dkJSjTriqaWN4WBoK-RbunRyhf8Mm0r6IUEYkYwI47hbV5hHkk5U6vPFu38x4j7EGx9an4hMNvYGV3NRCiwQewY7NqtO5lxq7yLVGSpZy3MuuZAOu8dH_pwVXI-66y7TKrsRJ/s640/1-VRR-ferry.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">VRR - Ferry</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">At breakfast, Ziploc approached me and asked if I was leaving on the morning ferry without her, and I told her I was. She understood that I was tired of the drama, but asked me to reconsider. I just coldly said I would still be leaving on that ferry and that we may see each other somewhere down the trail. We hugged and she was crying, and it was hard for me not to cry too, but I didn’t. I didn’t know it at the time, but my tears about this were just delayed, but I’ll get to that later.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After the ferry dropped me off, I started hiking with some music playing in my earbuds. After an hour or so, I was back on the PCT climbing up Silver Pass, which I took slow just because I could. I was on nobody’s schedule but my own. By the time I reached Silver Lake, the music was annoying me, so I turned it off and just listened to the frogs.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Rl5sJ5Ath02wvP4zgHzX-no_LoG2QyyO7yu4qEg_AMz6VNE2TfAsotlm-8nnTTbmMJkxX2fRk9e_LlYnh4sRU4Yp9XGN8tSXP-Qdb1v-4NTYY8DlzzTRbpEOrZ44jv9x9Fu1QMtGZyGs/s1600/3-waterfalls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1555" data-original-width="1166" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Rl5sJ5Ath02wvP4zgHzX-no_LoG2QyyO7yu4qEg_AMz6VNE2TfAsotlm-8nnTTbmMJkxX2fRk9e_LlYnh4sRU4Yp9XGN8tSXP-Qdb1v-4NTYY8DlzzTRbpEOrZ44jv9x9Fu1QMtGZyGs/s640/3-waterfalls.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">The climb up Silver Pass was long, but easier than I anticipated. I originally had some anxiety about some of the creek fords in this section, but the few I did today were all much easier than Bear Creek a couple days ago. When I reached the top of Silver Pass, I checked for a cell signal because I really wanted to talk to my Dad </span><sup><span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">1</span></sup></span><span style="font-size: large;">, but of course there was no signal. Instead I sat on a rock and just enjoyed the sun for a few minutes.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiChc2ld3ABa9krghO13d3hyVcQvwGlpdAjhCrXIraDgBTq9f610zJxkCoGiQl9r39VQEZRN221UrWFuScyq24XDSKlS5HJ60CNfsEtybeVohjOwxGOumb64lS_hKXPQy_n137r1fyx0Mmc/s1600/7-view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1166" data-original-width="1555" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiChc2ld3ABa9krghO13d3hyVcQvwGlpdAjhCrXIraDgBTq9f610zJxkCoGiQl9r39VQEZRN221UrWFuScyq24XDSKlS5HJ60CNfsEtybeVohjOwxGOumb64lS_hKXPQy_n137r1fyx0Mmc/s640/7-view.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The descent down Silver Pass was less shitty than expected considering it was 2:00 pm and the snow was soft already. I post-holed a handful of times which added to the growing lack of skin on my legs. Mostly I was able to talus hop and avoid the snow until I found the trail again. I then raced past Warrior Lake, Chief Lake, and Squaw Lake just to avoid getting devoured by mosquitoes or having to do small talk with a batch of JMT hikers at Squaw Lake.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOmq-EwO9Yu023gQvcfB1vWP0Cj9nQVjmoH_zbT5ggCVh7qdiRRTQMEOneVh5_J2GMP-F44H9ejFD1GPnQ0QxsjlodUVWEPAEEqojZP6zLToRx0hYbGqHv-4egpt-q_O52zuCX4-rE2cYI/s1600/4-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOmq-EwO9Yu023gQvcfB1vWP0Cj9nQVjmoH_zbT5ggCVh7qdiRRTQMEOneVh5_J2GMP-F44H9ejFD1GPnQ0QxsjlodUVWEPAEEqojZP6zLToRx0hYbGqHv-4egpt-q_O52zuCX4-rE2cYI/s640/4-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZNqehGDqdDOS2dJEDviMFUwZHGKrDD6BaDLQNQdiTBOZIs_UIpeFEteyLf_k5Yuk_OSbnpVsfG9hcBN0j09zFQ4EfFtFZ534f7p9-VPO_XUq8LqlDvUd2T7E743Jx-qtcfouUSJrVYDWs/s1600/5-view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZNqehGDqdDOS2dJEDviMFUwZHGKrDD6BaDLQNQdiTBOZIs_UIpeFEteyLf_k5Yuk_OSbnpVsfG9hcBN0j09zFQ4EfFtFZ534f7p9-VPO_XUq8LqlDvUd2T7E743Jx-qtcfouUSJrVYDWs/s640/5-view.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMw_UAYBGiTZwU_gGmVzs7FLaplFjkWtf7qc6OUm641v-tyG4k-_8po0M6xjclGeAA0ztTxq2tdH9yt6SDcML64iW_W-In_Mhwod9_cGIcVu-XK2-Al5qpQyyjYkoAIaDyLV3_fW0Emgd/s1600/6-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMw_UAYBGiTZwU_gGmVzs7FLaplFjkWtf7qc6OUm641v-tyG4k-_8po0M6xjclGeAA0ztTxq2tdH9yt6SDcML64iW_W-In_Mhwod9_cGIcVu-XK2-Al5qpQyyjYkoAIaDyLV3_fW0Emgd/s640/6-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmIEHhMjJS72pqPCY3K1q8VjuDXKleA1Y7qRZOTLgehzF7EIozkwXOE9MlMKIQ5g9-NDtWvZh3aja1mWh7ZMtVQXZvgaeo8dB2ljb9ujVkURUqtqRbcYSzjSsnTO1vI0v_KQiPnOugGhSs/s1600/8-lake-view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmIEHhMjJS72pqPCY3K1q8VjuDXKleA1Y7qRZOTLgehzF7EIozkwXOE9MlMKIQ5g9-NDtWvZh3aja1mWh7ZMtVQXZvgaeo8dB2ljb9ujVkURUqtqRbcYSzjSsnTO1vI0v_KQiPnOugGhSs/s640/8-lake-view.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After reaching the junction with the Cascade Valley Trail, the PCT ascends steeply up to Lake Virginia. Hiking up 1300 feet in elevation over the next 1.5 miles was tough on the legs, considering I’d already climbed 3300 feet during my climb of Silver Pass. I arrived at Lake Virginia at 5:00 pm, which is the earliest I’ve stopped and setup camp in a long time. I relaxed in between doing chores of filtering water, cooking dinner, and washing my socks. The socks were already filthy since earlier I landed in some mud up to my calf on both legs.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOW5XU1SGqfHwMokZCSX0EeiQWv6uBTF_WucCHrcg5EwKglivXAbD_i7kdUe3IxDyidKX2Aw3EUacNL5YNkFIlumd4weUlgV7MyqJgh-OMqmZPxivT7s7bICX-1PjBJUhl7RlKtyrbtdfX/s1600/9-campsite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOW5XU1SGqfHwMokZCSX0EeiQWv6uBTF_WucCHrcg5EwKglivXAbD_i7kdUe3IxDyidKX2Aw3EUacNL5YNkFIlumd4weUlgV7MyqJgh-OMqmZPxivT7s7bICX-1PjBJUhl7RlKtyrbtdfX/s640/9-campsite.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Second thoughts about how I was so cold to Ziploc came at camp that night. Ziploc’s passion for having a plan and sticking to it is something I understand even if I don’t always agree with it. That being said, she’s a good person and I treated her like crap just because I was frustrated with the drama surrounding daily plans. Before we hiked Mt Whitney, I promised her I would not abandon her in the Sierra since she didn’t have much mountaineering experience. And now I’ve done just that, I’ve abandoned her and I not only feel guilty for doing that, I also miss her company.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I sat above Lake Virginia after dinner, watching the sunset and snacking on Oreos, it all hit me. I had such a great campsite with a beautiful view over the lake, yet I had no one to share it with. I laid in the dirt with my head on a dead log and wept about the fact that I was lonely. The tears were worse when I realized I only had myself to blame for this feeling.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I again had racing thoughts that were all over the place. I thought of just waiting for Ziploc to catch up so I could apologize. I thought about waking up really early and trying to hike so hard and long that I would collapse from exhaustion and have no time for my thoughts to swirl. I again thought of leaving the trail, but for what; I had the same empty feeling awaiting me at home. I thought of putting a bullet in my head to just have peace and to end the racing thoughts. I never have been able to escape my head. I have hiked almost 900 miles on the PCT, and I’m just as fucked up as when I started. The only difference is VVR has $169 of mine now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">At least I can listen to the cacophony of frogs tonight as I try to sleep.</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><i>(before watching thevideo below, turn on your sound and listen)</i></span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxoE_Slg-vHLL4uq1s-xtfriX6-nS3BAq9wObbis3lbB5o7-EcF0G_LoRN8ccuOj2P1d_A6zyoqrRy1Cz1StQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">1. Your dad wanted to talk to you too.</span></div>
Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-29152329049496592792018-06-14T13:33:00.000-06:002018-06-15T04:22:32.474-06:00PCT - Day 55: 6/12/2018 - Found Kate, Leaving VVR Alone<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: .6 from 873.9 - 874.5</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 9.1 (includes 7.2 bonus miles on the Bear Ridge Trail to VVR</span><span style="font-size: large;">)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6V6uoAXdfMc1KibknXDSjhdJlKTf9MXOvHUeg7HmlhLLEftJ2sQl_HYdH9m0ND0OPcfyn0cbE4F8XkAhjl7jOqYVLjbqobI70uqop90JJpNdf4wCmsg-UMUFA9OfauFP-0a1euesxxKAE/s1600/1-morning-sun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6V6uoAXdfMc1KibknXDSjhdJlKTf9MXOvHUeg7HmlhLLEftJ2sQl_HYdH9m0ND0OPcfyn0cbE4F8XkAhjl7jOqYVLjbqobI70uqop90JJpNdf4wCmsg-UMUFA9OfauFP-0a1euesxxKAE/s640/1-morning-sun.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My day started with pissing off Ziploc yet again, because I had deviated from a plan we discussed the previous evening. I changed my mind and decided rather than leaving camp at 6:30 am and meeting up with Kate at VVR </span><span style="color: blue;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">that, instead, I wanted to wait for Kate since we now knew for sure she was behind us. I hiked a half mile to the junction of the Bear Ridge Trail and plopped myself nearly in the trail as to not be missed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Kate arrived only 15 minutes after I sat down. I greeted her and my greeting was met with anger and hostility. I understand her anger of being separated on the trail. I had also been angry about it the previous day when I thought she was in front of us. She asked me to explain what happened, but after I got one sentence out, she hiked off quickly refusing to even listen to my side of the story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had told her that initially after Ziploc had come up from behind me, we assumed Kate was still in front of us because neither of us had seen her. We waited ten minutes at the junction of the alternate crossing for Evolution Creek and when she didn’t show up, we assumed she was ahead of us. It was at this point of the conversation that Kate just stormed off. What she didn’t get to hear all the things Ziploc and I did to try to figure out where Kate was.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprXNRXDjHLz4mL_97xizoy2mUw_DBqhOcPh7ZBWrN7VzSAnjqwI73rgbsoaJnPKSvxCx__XyOP7j9tqQjEdIM2cYPBpKUaZoZvwEenpe1-HSFHJq7dVdYfJep7LrO5t4XFpro7t2ndfhl/s1600/2-trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprXNRXDjHLz4mL_97xizoy2mUw_DBqhOcPh7ZBWrN7VzSAnjqwI73rgbsoaJnPKSvxCx__XyOP7j9tqQjEdIM2cYPBpKUaZoZvwEenpe1-HSFHJq7dVdYfJep7LrO5t4XFpro7t2ndfhl/s640/2-trail.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bear Ridge Trail</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">But, I never even got an opportunity to tell her any of that. I just got the brunt of her anger, and in the process I also pissed off Ziploc for changing my plan this morning to wait for Kate. It was at this point, while hiking down Bear Ridge Trail by myself and getting eaten alive by mosquitoes that I decided that I just need to hike by myself going forward.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjifUMu34d8kV6XyauqJWzvlbJNjoh6QqIKHgERy8CBDTRYOSW6MHu6psVTV99AQL4-tl_gGc373FoSzwlA7iPrVgzmjdeNtY_VAuiP0kyzKVWLLBesVc9JCodANzsnMD4EpRhRG6InzIT-/s1600/3-view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjifUMu34d8kV6XyauqJWzvlbJNjoh6QqIKHgERy8CBDTRYOSW6MHu6psVTV99AQL4-tl_gGc373FoSzwlA7iPrVgzmjdeNtY_VAuiP0kyzKVWLLBesVc9JCodANzsnMD4EpRhRG6InzIT-/s640/3-view.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Upon my arrival at VVR around 10:00am, I immediately at an ice cream bar, drank a Firestone Easy Jack IPA, and chugged a Mountain Dew while doing laundry. My $7 shower was also worth every penny. I had missed breakfast, which was a shame since I rolled into VVR with one handful of almonds and that’s it for food.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR1m4I8JMAIyC7RokuAf38erbKL7eAb1abEgdFGu8SSLDAGgaeDNmnJahMy2SdJ1v2UsGjGsy1cpzAfWX-wxuIIpdHGEDTinTG5m5kvFNbtK7J0aCKu_MPE8RHC7VlPGKV-PVzdvqVCAr5/s1600/4-resupply.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR1m4I8JMAIyC7RokuAf38erbKL7eAb1abEgdFGu8SSLDAGgaeDNmnJahMy2SdJ1v2UsGjGsy1cpzAfWX-wxuIIpdHGEDTinTG5m5kvFNbtK7J0aCKu_MPE8RHC7VlPGKV-PVzdvqVCAr5/s640/4-resupply.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Resupply backpack, body and sole</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I setup my tent and just laid there enjoying a reprieve from the incessant mosquito assault. At 12:00pm, I walked back up to the store to order my first of two lunches and get my resupply package.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I expected to have WiFi at VVR to make a call or two and pay my daughter’s tuition bill which usually rolls in the middle of June. VVR has no WiFi though.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Multiple times today I considered quitting the trail completely. I’m not even sure why, but honestly it’s probably just psychological. I’m just sort of a wreck mentally right now. Plus, my body has numerous problems; sprained right ankle, hurting left knee, and pain in my right elbow (the same one I broke in February). That and a few times in the past two weeks I have been pissing blood.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">That being said, I felt slightly better after being at VVR for a bit. In eight hours I drank five IPAs, a Mountain Dew, and a Pepsi. In that same period of time, I ate a bacon cheeseburger w/ fries, a side of chicken fingers, another side of fries, an ice cream bar, a half a bag of Cheetos, 12 double stuff Oreo cookies, and a plate of beef tacos with black beans & Spanish rice served with pineapple salsa.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">After hiking away from me earlier this morning, Kate came by my tent as I was doing tent repairs. She wanted to say goodbye since she was leaving on the afternoon ferry. I politely wished her well and we shared a brief emotionless hug. She left and I suspect it’s the last I’ll see of her due to what is probably permanent damage to our friendship.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ziploc also tried chatting with me a couple times, but I just sort of ignored her, mostly because I was still pissed about the exchange we had this morning regarding changing plans. That and after I caught hostility from both Kate and Ziploc, I arrived at VVR to find them chatting away like old friends. Some things I’ll never understand.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0LSvzXUboX0O50sz66aAo_mwjdF8HMA0bXzohER7B_UQs55mnrBnGH9N8hxF_6g1J_RIESPOgG18zqv20g7pOYvKRLjfLDJ5Lm8XKQsFgC0wEfEpUk9kxclUwFg3PJvH3XOiIEEJpVpMu/s1600/5-VRR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0LSvzXUboX0O50sz66aAo_mwjdF8HMA0bXzohER7B_UQs55mnrBnGH9N8hxF_6g1J_RIESPOgG18zqv20g7pOYvKRLjfLDJ5Lm8XKQsFgC0wEfEpUk9kxclUwFg3PJvH3XOiIEEJpVpMu/s640/5-VRR.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">VVR (Vermilion Valley Resort)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, I’d already decided that I am continuing onward tomorrow by myself. I went and hid in my tent at 6:30pm and avoided everyone. I’m leaving VVR on the first ferry in the morning. I find the constant drama, coordination, and bull shit that comes from hiking with others to be a mental drain. For a while at least, I’ll stick to hiking and camping by myself assuming there are camp spots away from other hikers. I will get by with my music, star gazing, naps in the sun, and talking to my only real friend, myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It’s fitting that as I finish writing this, my music, which is on shuffle, started playing the song “Don’t make me go” from the punk rock band Off With Your Heads. For those of you too lazy to listen to a three minute song, the lyrics go like this:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">~~</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Please don’t make me go home</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I can’t handle the sight of that place again</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Please don’t make me go home</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I’m wanted there even less than I’m wanted here</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>If I have to go home and say I’m sorry for things I’m not sorry for</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I’d rather keep on destroying myself for my own needs, than opening up that door</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Please don’t make me go</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Please don’t make me go home</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>They blame everything on me even though it’s not my fault</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Please don’t make me go home</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I can’t handle seeing that place again</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I know they think I’m fucked up</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I know exactly where everybody stands</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Please don’t make me go home</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>And face everything that made me who I am</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Please don’t make me go</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Please don’t make me go</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I’m not going home</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I’m not going home</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Please don’t make me go</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">~~</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I used to listen to this song and think it was appropriate for how I never want to go back to where I grew up in Massachusetts. Now it has a second and wildly different meaning.</span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-42406417141997577042018-06-14T13:15:00.000-06:002018-06-15T04:24:35.556-06:00PCT - Day 54: 6/11/2018 - Stalking deer, Located Kate and Food Rationing<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 18.0 from 855.9 - 873.9</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 20.4</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIvTWCjKMdNmlUldPVrG26meCjOdpJlKWd2uQUVAD1iUznxggw1s9W3rC1RpO6_21pHUsXfzWUdhxvegc8-tkDxMnkppyEtQ-ac6G-PiDcuAlyz_JazzQl8qqnxCWiI5BgfIaHI7fvMdTh/s1600/5-brich%253Dtrees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="1" data-original-height="1555" data-original-width="874" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIvTWCjKMdNmlUldPVrG26meCjOdpJlKWd2uQUVAD1iUznxggw1s9W3rC1RpO6_21pHUsXfzWUdhxvegc8-tkDxMnkppyEtQ-ac6G-PiDcuAlyz_JazzQl8qqnxCWiI5BgfIaHI7fvMdTh/s640/5-brich%253Dtrees.jpg" width="358" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I started the day hobbling down the trail for the first mile or two. My right ankle was in significant pain until the Vitamin I kicked in. After it warmed up, I was able to walk OK, just not as quickly as normal.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59k3KDqp5wx2eeno0c_pqb9VAicUsm5qCs3wzvnvCKSAoZyRqvEsY5KcW8JNDdwQ0U3_aASO0nwkJdZ33dT592UI7ewpueNmO1ZxkohctdY00-V6h3RPTmHqZuO2U-rNDXZEYX19wqO3_/s1600/1-JT-sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="1166" data-original-width="1555" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59k3KDqp5wx2eeno0c_pqb9VAicUsm5qCs3wzvnvCKSAoZyRqvEsY5KcW8JNDdwQ0U3_aASO0nwkJdZ33dT592UI7ewpueNmO1ZxkohctdY00-V6h3RPTmHqZuO2U-rNDXZEYX19wqO3_/s640/1-JT-sign.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Welcome to John Muir Wilderness</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Today we left Kings Canyon National Park and entered the John Muir Wilderness area. As if to signify this, a deer actually followed me up the trail for a while.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdJuoJc2Lv1pRBZZ4Wei61J7otrVHfiWdtqCntXJNFs3L-mbpox8DgdligCmVRlWXOOBKnll3FejiF0PKrnggHpsvz9EosVN-KBA9S5eMysiAmYaIZcuwR-QCFHy1VFnb_iRRuzxD6ZC3Y/s1600/2-stalking-deer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="1166" data-original-width="1555" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdJuoJc2Lv1pRBZZ4Wei61J7otrVHfiWdtqCntXJNFs3L-mbpox8DgdligCmVRlWXOOBKnll3FejiF0PKrnggHpsvz9EosVN-KBA9S5eMysiAmYaIZcuwR-QCFHy1VFnb_iRRuzxD6ZC3Y/s640/2-stalking-deer.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stalking Deer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">I hiked by myself all morning and saw more deer than I did other hikers. I wondered and worried about Sleeping Beauty much of the day. The only other hiker I saw before mid-afternoon passed me while I was filtering water.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNjdkO05B7kuBwK4ocD8we1JIrKczDEOSuoc78wjiUIOLPqVdEQhA9FRE1uj_vh84KI7JV0P4FuyEvc0CQbwlXGgT6yYd2aTq1i81RDgEkoE-iT_YAu-Rwg6JR2kJe69x2KcCSxKxbHV2a/s1600/3-deer-in-brush.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNjdkO05B7kuBwK4ocD8we1JIrKczDEOSuoc78wjiUIOLPqVdEQhA9FRE1uj_vh84KI7JV0P4FuyEvc0CQbwlXGgT6yYd2aTq1i81RDgEkoE-iT_YAu-Rwg6JR2kJe69x2KcCSxKxbHV2a/s640/3-deer-in-brush.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deer thru hiker</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">I climbed the 2800 feet of elevation up Selden Pass by myself. I ate lunch on the top and took inventory of my remaining food. It was depressing. This section had taken me longer than I anticipated, and I was in full rationing mode now.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiapOVUkSAybG-dgvZFJmDCS5w9hfysjCzbeaz-5-eSb8PfhJD1rFJh5uERX_d051dKgbovJMgWwtnqsm1_ppZELK13yI32yQ8_-rtpKIMYYVM3MY-LQCGoSE7DyUTda0imHS_evdJRvnKu/s1600/4-trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="1" data-original-height="1555" data-original-width="874" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiapOVUkSAybG-dgvZFJmDCS5w9hfysjCzbeaz-5-eSb8PfhJD1rFJh5uERX_d051dKgbovJMgWwtnqsm1_ppZELK13yI32yQ8_-rtpKIMYYVM3MY-LQCGoSE7DyUTda0imHS_evdJRvnKu/s640/4-trail.jpg" width="358" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The snow on Selden Pass was still annoying but there was much less than all the other passes we had done thus far. Marie Lake was pretty as was Heart Lake on the south side. Heart Lake was semi frozen and it sort of made it look like it should be named Broken Heart Lake.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvHKqL1_b_ZMEUgoPuggPs38xtlDmb5LRE6Jg36Rpwyr7VzlA_EJ-iezn7zx_Utfvyh9wLMAZc8aq5KwOOOkd1Fck8EtDAZN3LBkd5XnfMCW6_QKQOwqrA3j8jK9eJPXI6YCnuuccYNwfa/s1600/6-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvHKqL1_b_ZMEUgoPuggPs38xtlDmb5LRE6Jg36Rpwyr7VzlA_EJ-iezn7zx_Utfvyh9wLMAZc8aq5KwOOOkd1Fck8EtDAZN3LBkd5XnfMCW6_QKQOwqrA3j8jK9eJPXI6YCnuuccYNwfa/s640/6-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzFLUhZVjY3M51FFPPedA3Fgh18aIJ2hG67J3SCNhqEFzoCrQPzHa2QXXF53LbcsEXh-6KA86gBGAZaWheBL5LiMYKZhHtOM0rJr6xn2wQVeQV08VRMIQyqQRLBAjmm_1_jz2YJi5rQ47m/s1600/7-lakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzFLUhZVjY3M51FFPPedA3Fgh18aIJ2hG67J3SCNhqEFzoCrQPzHa2QXXF53LbcsEXh-6KA86gBGAZaWheBL5LiMYKZhHtOM0rJr6xn2wQVeQV08VRMIQyqQRLBAjmm_1_jz2YJi5rQ47m/s640/7-lakes.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6B0MjVaOo5nPzXuDrAxVMzuMzQ38MkP0Z_jsiDKBoyRBOmiwz80AeRa3y07q_cXxlupQOacPWuN8K7_S-KT8BinbYYZIQ0rHzBFvKZj864G5HWwAMidzX4afSk3gB1OMAGoZWpfkA4rn/s1600/8-frozen-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6B0MjVaOo5nPzXuDrAxVMzuMzQ38MkP0Z_jsiDKBoyRBOmiwz80AeRa3y07q_cXxlupQOacPWuN8K7_S-KT8BinbYYZIQ0rHzBFvKZj864G5HWwAMidzX4afSk3gB1OMAGoZWpfkA4rn/s640/8-frozen-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">After I got away from the lake and out of range of the hoard of mosquitoes following me, I found Ziploc waiting for me next to the trail. We took a break and a short nap. She napped in the shade, while I preferred the sun. Most of my nap time was spent responding to the calls from the cheeseburger birds.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4njY61KjRFtb72lpz-59fSgYYYjjljwP9SmiLrm30So3trQsJGBWEvAOC7N7_MWtDusTojjc6QAixkW3LyEHv8HK1Yxj0n7reJ2wqaX_Abu07l1RR-gwX7uusiFZYVwq_T1-N_Vb8Aplr/s1600/8-lake-mirrow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4njY61KjRFtb72lpz-59fSgYYYjjljwP9SmiLrm30So3trQsJGBWEvAOC7N7_MWtDusTojjc6QAixkW3LyEHv8HK1Yxj0n7reJ2wqaX_Abu07l1RR-gwX7uusiFZYVwq_T1-N_Vb8Aplr/s640/8-lake-mirrow.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We got a move on at about 2:00 pm and we crossed paths again with a few other hikers we’d seen. None of them had seen Sleeping Beauty.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Around 3:30 pm, in the peak time of day for snow melt, we arrived at Bear Creek. The ford of this creek has taken lives in the past. The current was noticeably fast, with whitecaps. We went downstream maybe 200 feet to a place that was a little less ugly, but not by much. I went across first. The water reached my thighs, but the real problem was the current. It was so fast that my trekking poles shook violently in the water. I made it across safely and watched as Ziploc carefully crossed without an issue. As we sat on a rock on the other side, I again worried about Sleeping Beauty.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwd5xH0ZoAQn3NZjDZZCKEWNuZWpUUWc6h3y4L-fLXz6ilHu0sBSRg-Ff480MA3NGPoqytK180Hs5NL_ZRttA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We hiked another 5 miles or so, which involved several additional creek fords and one crazy creek that had a few tributaries and was covered in dead logs. Crossing it was a jungle gym exercise, moving from one log to another until you eventually end up on the final log that has you walking across the fastest moving part of the creek about 12 feet above the water. All the while you’re walking on a slight uphill angle on a log that narrows as you get closer to the end. Let’s not forget that you are doing this with shoes that are only 40% dry at best. It took great concentration not to panic or fall off here.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0RL3dNDNFaoHczqA42u55IVIEAjBYWr4-L6vlKTyuARqmz9JZ3-Uu66gWuZ7TZt44tvJXRRK_HWBiBUwynIP0AEOC1Nq6kpqu3nm7Cx1POuHOuFHfpnMsrXNQv_Bx_ZebGbe0R-aS5XTR/s1600/10-log-crossing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0RL3dNDNFaoHczqA42u55IVIEAjBYWr4-L6vlKTyuARqmz9JZ3-Uu66gWuZ7TZt44tvJXRRK_HWBiBUwynIP0AEOC1Nq6kpqu3nm7Cx1POuHOuFHfpnMsrXNQv_Bx_ZebGbe0R-aS5XTR/s640/10-log-crossing.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing on a Log</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">At camp, we had a cell signal for the first time in almost 100 miles and I was able to message Sleeping Beauty’s boyfriend back home. He sent me back a link to Kate’s InReach tracking which showed she was alive and was camped about a mile behind us. It was a relief to know she was ok, but still a mystery to know how she got behind us in the first place. I also got a message from HoosierDaddy from two days ago saying that he and Opera had to double back to town because Opera was having bad altitude sickness. Who knows at this point where any of my trail family is.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Tomorrow, we hike .7 miles on the PCT and then 7.1 bonus miles on the Bear Ridge Trail to Vermilion Valley Resort for my first shower in a week, laundry, resupply, and a bit of rest. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My legs are absolutely shredded from the snow, and a fall I took in a stream and they could use a zero day. My ankle is also begging for rest. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzv9UvEk2gQ9AXs5Qd3Pvr_wOPHG7B2_4JdKToJ_MUusBU63mhrNa0dJexi_kjRTaWU7IeUPIUG6l5qKHticg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And while all that sounds amazing, my main goal is FOOD. After I eat breakfast tomorrow, I will cover that eight-ish miles with two handfuls of honey-roasted almonds, one Kind Bar, and nine or ten Jelly Beans. That’s because that is all I have left from the 24,000 calories I left the town of Independence with back on June 6th.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqjuF61typai_7wdnXZ3Ah8RUxf4dEfGf50v3Y685hf3_PGAVJ1iBX2fvMk-czPJ7dWyebBOMdhF9khpY4uYm6tbVYEqDW8wVKrYS2voHLuSg0uDJAYTy6pZZlFH8oRoVZHqaamsTm0Lbq/s1600/11-campsite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqjuF61typai_7wdnXZ3Ah8RUxf4dEfGf50v3Y685hf3_PGAVJ1iBX2fvMk-czPJ7dWyebBOMdhF9khpY4uYm6tbVYEqDW8wVKrYS2voHLuSg0uDJAYTy6pZZlFH8oRoVZHqaamsTm0Lbq/s640/11-campsite.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">campsite</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">After writing this, I looked up into the clear moonless sky, since I pitched my tent tonight without a rain fly, and saw five shooting stars in three minutes. I love the PCT!</span><br />
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Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-52134094340609493642018-06-12T07:40:00.003-06:002018-06-12T07:40:56.443-06:00PCT - Day 53: 6/10/2018 - Exhaustion and a missing Sleeping Beauty<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 20.8 from 835.1 - 855.9</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 23.3</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We started our day at 5:00 am sharp with the goal of making it up and down Muir a Pass before the snow warmed up too much. Ten minutes into our day we had to ford a creek, and it was ice cold. My toes were numb for the next hour or two.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sleeping Beauty and Ziploc were having a rough day. Ziploc was nursing an injury to her quad muscle. Sleeping Beauty was fatigued and slowed by some Achilles tendinitis. It was also cold and breezy making our early morning snow climb up Muir Pass with numb toes a bit more challenging. To add to the hell, the snow fields we were crossing were sun-cupped. This made every step a potential ankle breaker. We also had more mental toughness tests; like crossing sketchy snow bridges over raging creeks or seeing the steep terrain in front of you, and knowing your suffering will continue until you reach the top.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzKi62AdV3pzIOGwX-c-LYNt4i1Fe0s7e6xSMFclYl7ssibqJgi_7x1e_xFNglf_rJf0iw1MN_d4Zv3_fY6kNUj6BHYfCFbCBRhadkFFsGUY08dXX0JsuYJy3fMZkSEoqo9-Xmi0jza5yK/s1600/1-snow-bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzKi62AdV3pzIOGwX-c-LYNt4i1Fe0s7e6xSMFclYl7ssibqJgi_7x1e_xFNglf_rJf0iw1MN_d4Zv3_fY6kNUj6BHYfCFbCBRhadkFFsGUY08dXX0JsuYJy3fMZkSEoqo9-Xmi0jza5yK/s640/1-snow-bridge.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing Creek on a Snow Bridge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Frustration was obvious in both the ladies. I offered encouragement and tried to get them to focus on the positive things like the stunning views, or the fact that we were not post-holing.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5MCcGzckRvbL3edZqNY5Ik5OfXbBepQ_hvY9vEAPAWLPvev3P3ZokQ8cEGT4ODZi7HB2Wia4hzvLUbMHObnWQE10UBp0C1bsAcGl8R7QXHz6BGJqb_mVg-OyQjnWYxsG_BP5Z_f9r31Wv/s1600/2-snow-field.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5MCcGzckRvbL3edZqNY5Ik5OfXbBepQ_hvY9vEAPAWLPvev3P3ZokQ8cEGT4ODZi7HB2Wia4hzvLUbMHObnWQE10UBp0C1bsAcGl8R7QXHz6BGJqb_mVg-OyQjnWYxsG_BP5Z_f9r31Wv/s640/2-snow-field.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snow Field</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">At about 7:30 am we reached the stone shelter building at the top of Muir Pass. As I walked up, Shank and Pocket Knife walked out of the shelter. We chatted with them for a bit and then they began their descent. We followed about ten minutes later. After we’d descended about 400 feet or so, I saw Pocket Knife walking back up from the frozen lake without her pack. I yelled to her and asked her what she left up at the top. She hollered back that she’d left her iPhone in the shelter. Since I was only 400 feet in elevation away, and she was maybe 600, I told her I’d go get it. I dropped my pack and hauled ass back up. Fifteen minutes later I was jogging back down the snow with her phone in my pocket. She and Shank thanked me for my efforts and offered to buy me a beer in town. I’ll definitely take that beer but would have done that for any friend.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4IbfUu8Qqm6YQWSVU3K3UhDNwoJ4TKZQG_38kEBfEh0NKqwkWls_PB4oyVNkUh8B0Uucr-UOEAR4DNwy1xUikjH9EcV_CFT859nK5kGxjuUo1AKmYWuoaur86JQCdJg-0xgrznTKVA7oW/s1600/3-stone-shelter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4IbfUu8Qqm6YQWSVU3K3UhDNwoJ4TKZQG_38kEBfEh0NKqwkWls_PB4oyVNkUh8B0Uucr-UOEAR4DNwy1xUikjH9EcV_CFT859nK5kGxjuUo1AKmYWuoaur86JQCdJg-0xgrznTKVA7oW/s640/3-stone-shelter.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">i-Phone Storage Unit</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now we had 25 minutes less to get the hell off the snow which continued for another 3.5 miles. We were side-hilling on sun-cupped snow when I missed a step and sprained my right ankle. I screamed because the pain was intense. I tried to weight it and yelped again in pain. Slowly, after trial and error, I discovered that the pain was only really bad when pushing off with the ball of my foot. So I walked very slowly with weighting only my right foot with the mid foot or heel.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVIVPRVXyVrBM9YsnJHxBRKUS3w9isTNeSM91y8-EWT5p7pk9icapvjhUmOeV0gloEwJXENNZav4zCqpxNOMMOZRtvRZCyYYveBtWf_RCIX2HlrrsryQLV2VbQwm1LmKrWrTnZZvcNS919/s1600/5-side-hilling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVIVPRVXyVrBM9YsnJHxBRKUS3w9isTNeSM91y8-EWT5p7pk9icapvjhUmOeV0gloEwJXENNZav4zCqpxNOMMOZRtvRZCyYYveBtWf_RCIX2HlrrsryQLV2VbQwm1LmKrWrTnZZvcNS919/s640/5-side-hilling.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Side Hilling</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Around 10:00 am, we were approaching the last of the snow fields. Ziploc was in a lot of pain already from what is potentially a torn quad muscle. Then when we were descending the steepest snow slope we’d been on all day, she slipped and slid a short way in the soft wet snow. She got herself up, but was having some trouble getting down. She took out her ice ax for safety and I climbed back up without my pack to kick steps into the snow for her. After a few minutes on this treacherous slope, she made it down, but not without a healthy dose of German curse words.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We carefully rock hopped about 100 rocks in the Evolution Lake Inlet. The rocks were mostly submerged from excessive runoff, but still visible. My ankle injury made this exercise slight more difficult, but I managed. Our shoes were already 0% dry so another dose of freezing alpine lake water didn’t hurt.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-xUU5zxNE4OXTlANVcsvPIVAyFeXvbAC4gJAOWCG68F11uViGLUDgkvehpW79hyphenhyphenoC4y0t3hU7fFn1KSzDGBNMJrTGVDXJOOvFFu58kLGSA83Ncj7osxQ8LLs2GebVRa1Sb3sZwZw_mxCK/s1600/4-Evolution-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-xUU5zxNE4OXTlANVcsvPIVAyFeXvbAC4gJAOWCG68F11uViGLUDgkvehpW79hyphenhyphenoC4y0t3hU7fFn1KSzDGBNMJrTGVDXJOOvFFu58kLGSA83Ncj7osxQ8LLs2GebVRa1Sb3sZwZw_mxCK/s640/4-Evolution-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evolution Lake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">We had finally dropped enough elevation that we were out of the snow to everyone’s relief. Now we found ourselves on the shore of beautiful Evolution Lake. We stopped for a lunch break just after walking past two deer grazing alongside the trail.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC-bIlQ8UYUSsk6ZGVOXr5mP520uB4HFQya_Ellzeu-oI-YxWYV9Uu0mvNw1pa2VgRs8LOOS4ifSd2j1e81hHoVbD9mjrETs8BPrw3V7Mcte8vsHbSZ4aQdxSxpTG94ZM5yAxbrlOxLazL/s1600/6-Evolution-Lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC-bIlQ8UYUSsk6ZGVOXr5mP520uB4HFQya_Ellzeu-oI-YxWYV9Uu0mvNw1pa2VgRs8LOOS4ifSd2j1e81hHoVbD9mjrETs8BPrw3V7Mcte8vsHbSZ4aQdxSxpTG94ZM5yAxbrlOxLazL/s640/6-Evolution-Lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deer Grazing</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">At lunch, the main topic was how we were all <span id="goog_1054255296"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a><span id="goog_1054255297"></span>going to run out of food before making it to <a href="http://www.edisonlake.com/" target="_blank">VVR</a> where our next resupply was awaiting. Sleeping Beauty also voiced concern that the conditions with such challenging snow up high was making it difficult for her to finish the JMT before she had to return home. She was exhausted and needs a rest day, but her schedule doesn’t allow it. Ziploc said that she was done with the snow, and that she was going to skip a section up to Tahoe. We all knew (hoped) she wasn’t serious.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ye6gAJArbHVUMdoNbXRh9mS39MQ8SKxq6SV2wJG_8WNWFpfMzgSLzF2m6QL6qfRA0x8aRmO0XnMYh5k46K1ovblR4xQcQ23CScON7OlGbtnBnDUtBSS_vbWXIwGPKjpItX_yByy7Vidl/s1600/7-lunch-stop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ye6gAJArbHVUMdoNbXRh9mS39MQ8SKxq6SV2wJG_8WNWFpfMzgSLzF2m6QL6qfRA0x8aRmO0XnMYh5k46K1ovblR4xQcQ23CScON7OlGbtnBnDUtBSS_vbWXIwGPKjpItX_yByy7Vidl/s640/7-lunch-stop.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch Stop</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As lunch ended, we left Evolution Lake and the trout swimming around in clear view from the shore. I was moving slow due to my ankle. Advil and Vicodin didn’t even help. I hiked about two miles and saw Sleeping Beauty and Ziploc waiting for me at a switchback. It was really sweet that they waited for me. It was right about the mile where Ziploc and I crossed the “halfway across California” milestone. I thanked them for waiting but told them that we could all reconvene at the Evolution Creek ford which was reportedly waist deep.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I descended even more, the rocky trail gave way to soft pine needles which made my ankle happier. The trail followed Evolution Creek much of the afternoon. The creek would roar violently at narrow spots where waterfalls were present, and it other areas where the water widened into a meadow, it was serene and calm. McClure Meadow was like this and was one of the prettiest places I’d ever seen.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhNr7ZXsTZK1xEW84sDiMOrW2gLoruuftRuNM0zlnT8QuTXvKU16R_JLQB75UTnlvwn3oJ3RO8EGEpsDv3PeV-4af8i69tTvto943_vn0gumuZ0Giiab_6ajy214_TmdgTBwhr7YKug-T/s1600/8-evolution-creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhNr7ZXsTZK1xEW84sDiMOrW2gLoruuftRuNM0zlnT8QuTXvKU16R_JLQB75UTnlvwn3oJ3RO8EGEpsDv3PeV-4af8i69tTvto943_vn0gumuZ0Giiab_6ajy214_TmdgTBwhr7YKug-T/s640/8-evolution-creek.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evolution Creek</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ziploc caught up with me on trail after she’d taken a bathroom break. She told me Sleeping Beauty was still in front of us. However, an hour later when we reached the junction where we’d meet before fording Evolution Creek, Sleeping Beauty was nowhere to be seen. We waited for a bit and then decided to take the alternate crossing which was safer in high water. This was also the crossing that we were discussing earlier with Sleeping Beauty. She was not there either.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ziploc and I decided that she must’ve forded the creek by herself and pressed on to camp since she was tired and probably wanted extra recovery time. Just in case, we stopped and waited for an hour. Mark and Tammy walked by and we asked if they’d seen Kate (a.k.a. Sleeping Beauty) and they said they hadn’t. This made us assume that Sleeping Beauty was ahead of us and probably kicking it at camp already. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ziploc and I hiked another 5.5 miles from 5:30 pm till 8:00 pm and Sleeping Beauty was not at the tent site that we thought she was going to stop at. Unfortunately, we didn’t know if Sleeping Beauty was just catching some Zzz a couple miles ahead of us, or if something worse happened. Ziploc and I were already running on fumes. We were both nursing injuries and hadn’t even eaten dinner and it was 8:00 pm. The sun was setting and we made a difficult decision to stop and camp. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now I lay here in my tent wondering if Sleeping Beauty is snoozing comfortably somewhere or whether she got swept down Evolution Creek. My mind has played so many scenarios. She’s a strong independent woman with a ton of experience. I have to assume she’s OK. But I also know from years of climbing mountains with Kate that this is highly unusual.</span><br />
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<br />Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-67121198273210807902018-06-12T07:07:00.000-06:002018-06-12T07:08:12.019-06:00PCT - Day 52: 6/9/2018 - Frozen Socks, Raging Creeks and Beauty<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 14.6 from 820.5 - 835.1</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 15.5</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglTcXP0p52wg6huQZN6F35grbVD_zi6LwT_Js6DW-PDLuajKJfXlxWNoynLyFCETckLVNgPfX6WifQryE-4jalVQaYXrHTLEj5DGsAJ35sfQJ2LejGe2TkykCsmyxG9_S9y8q0pIe2KS4x/s1600/2-norning-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglTcXP0p52wg6huQZN6F35grbVD_zi6LwT_Js6DW-PDLuajKJfXlxWNoynLyFCETckLVNgPfX6WifQryE-4jalVQaYXrHTLEj5DGsAJ35sfQJ2LejGe2TkykCsmyxG9_S9y8q0pIe2KS4x/s640/2-norning-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Last night’s campsite was the best I’ve ever had. I woke up in the middle of the night last night before the sliver of the moon had risen. The stars were incredible, with clear views of the Milky Way.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk_YdGOzWU6xkViO48kUDp_p3jspai4gXhjmfoB4WPZKTisBy8uoP9S1HiJITqqI9ma1WOd4oJFCPbZcCCWoDgc1dwdSPDPVQ33nV-QLJIWF8dObGwEL8p0Qjm2LJOD3iOOdyTemaPW7IU/s1600/1-morning-light.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk_YdGOzWU6xkViO48kUDp_p3jspai4gXhjmfoB4WPZKTisBy8uoP9S1HiJITqqI9ma1WOd4oJFCPbZcCCWoDgc1dwdSPDPVQ33nV-QLJIWF8dObGwEL8p0Qjm2LJOD3iOOdyTemaPW7IU/s640/1-morning-light.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning light</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Today’s objective involved getting to a good high camp on the approach to Muir Pass, which put us just under 15 miles per the plan. Our late start time at 7:00 am was still early enough that Kate had frozen socks to start the day.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDiz9LYtNijQQyO36EVpWhBUsQoxK-nUZDi5Y4j-JKkv11O1rZWzYOn83tgWkujjdszOO4cR3KBY3qcMeWOky8IYXCqCKKZqa_oewaWARimL-x_1jfxQHMDhlD2FyktpF8raOg9t77AG89/s1600/3-frozen-socks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDiz9LYtNijQQyO36EVpWhBUsQoxK-nUZDi5Y4j-JKkv11O1rZWzYOn83tgWkujjdszOO4cR3KBY3qcMeWOky8IYXCqCKKZqa_oewaWARimL-x_1jfxQHMDhlD2FyktpF8raOg9t77AG89/s640/3-frozen-socks.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate's Frozen Socks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">The views along Palisade Creek, Glacier Creek, and the Middle Fork Kings River were just unrivaled. John Muir was a visionary in his efforts to protect this place. All day, we saw roaring waterfalls, creeks with crystal clear bluish green waters, stunning meadows, and a healthy forest that provides cover and shade for the napping deer. The only word I can think of to describe the Sierra is magical.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_tKyD8_zfkyHIe7AdG8TUfbDgHKcZ2OQKbSJ5383dSqksSxeajBdjvI2plqRN78MO4ogbHq3OEyfk2n_UEfnCypy1MWz592uOBS9ziFxscaL8oidBihdyj3OUfOcNrEdaFg6nRujUJSq/s1600/8-John-Muir-sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_tKyD8_zfkyHIe7AdG8TUfbDgHKcZ2OQKbSJ5383dSqksSxeajBdjvI2plqRN78MO4ogbHq3OEyfk2n_UEfnCypy1MWz592uOBS9ziFxscaL8oidBihdyj3OUfOcNrEdaFg6nRujUJSq/s640/8-John-Muir-sign.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYObhyVMk15n0jZnvjA5Ctf9ohoYLNrZ5ZgTr2oW8NpZ21PJ_4TjocWG5kzFj-aobxEvp_7UIxdSVQkn-39pjz5ou9aUUdFIZDLECGtbcOxebklYoW7OdoxdN9EgtKv2HfDm_rIxtLkFD1/s1600/4-raging-creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYObhyVMk15n0jZnvjA5Ctf9ohoYLNrZ5ZgTr2oW8NpZ21PJ_4TjocWG5kzFj-aobxEvp_7UIxdSVQkn-39pjz5ou9aUUdFIZDLECGtbcOxebklYoW7OdoxdN9EgtKv2HfDm_rIxtLkFD1/s640/4-raging-creek.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raging Creek</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At one of the dozens of creek crossings today, my right foot slipped off a log and I fell into the creek with the one leg. My other leg sustained a couple minor lacerations from the log I fell off of to add to the pain since my legs are still raw from post-holing coming down Mather Pass.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgunTQe4jwoBxgzQtdfGBOcmua5YU1Yws6ClG8oYBpH1o2KlxveQO4K0LaKZjEyoRtwiTNs1oKx0CXQwWbmTb_mh7LYYaM8wQLukGlFgz75LaOBbJ4V0Bt30f6L7LGqVzYuL_5okpFiJRcH/s1600/4-ziplock-crossing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgunTQe4jwoBxgzQtdfGBOcmua5YU1Yws6ClG8oYBpH1o2KlxveQO4K0LaKZjEyoRtwiTNs1oKx0CXQwWbmTb_mh7LYYaM8wQLukGlFgz75LaOBbJ4V0Bt30f6L7LGqVzYuL_5okpFiJRcH/s640/4-ziplock-crossing.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ziplock Crossing on a Log</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I began a rating system of measuring foot dryness. For example, if someone asked me “How’s your feet?” right after I submerged only my right foot in the water falling off the log, my answer would be “50% dry.”</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeCtGTmWaTuax89z5V26odU8lGE7D4CeEQR0EIzqgmTfLp_uDGVgQtOPLLulyflNi96f7pxv8qwzH4eqENwKvgN41loGQpryE7A_HOCf0L51JkTA-b3syax2KVCCy4r3Qa5Kue_kKoG0eI/s1600/5-circus-act-creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="1" data-original-height="1555" data-original-width="874" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeCtGTmWaTuax89z5V26odU8lGE7D4CeEQR0EIzqgmTfLp_uDGVgQtOPLLulyflNi96f7pxv8qwzH4eqENwKvgN41loGQpryE7A_HOCf0L51JkTA-b3syax2KVCCy4r3Qa5Kue_kKoG0eI/s640/5-circus-act-creek.jpg" width="358" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Today was an easier day since we did not do any passes, so we took a couple of long breaks and spent time repairing our bodies and our friendships with each other.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioNXLQXeQqLWFGwC3ANU7id7ly3oKPvl3ZJTDoQi0R5M1S2NPgBJywSkiS82kzQcfOCIyTe3c4LYcN3e03XUCoFykZHBbJLQ2nMdFbN2wXga07dTeVKC-fxlBWHbOZik19BZzXy2KAvTA0/s1600/6-creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioNXLQXeQqLWFGwC3ANU7id7ly3oKPvl3ZJTDoQi0R5M1S2NPgBJywSkiS82kzQcfOCIyTe3c4LYcN3e03XUCoFykZHBbJLQ2nMdFbN2wXga07dTeVKC-fxlBWHbOZik19BZzXy2KAvTA0/s640/6-creek.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another Creek</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;">During our second lunch break, we all fell asleep in the sun. Kate was laying face down on a rock and was sleeping so deep, that she didn’t even wake up when I started poking her with twigs and tossing small pine cones onto her back.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsUMIa3fXIHW2yVeSTPrae68FHj53UeQGn6Tz-BMGx8gFAulzpcIAJQjQiFDT-3VDbnt69INMDOVkOo9MLBCjDAhYsuqVBabQavWBxxG4IuNS2zu6MfDU3VfBtqXf8F9JD5z9YZ-Th_VNA/s1600/9-lunch-break.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsUMIa3fXIHW2yVeSTPrae68FHj53UeQGn6Tz-BMGx8gFAulzpcIAJQjQiFDT-3VDbnt69INMDOVkOo9MLBCjDAhYsuqVBabQavWBxxG4IuNS2zu6MfDU3VfBtqXf8F9JD5z9YZ-Th_VNA/s640/9-lunch-break.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ziplock Lunch Break</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDo2uUq90gnF4xXE__Y1CcF2aMhq3vRH0iDuqdGuOSXlaF8_XXoSfrJZ_iZqHYLMICEBHtxvHLOakU24jWiQpgVzSqj-CaAb35m6dzxCjLN8ysZsCnlSITqiSO4dbM67BYj5hAF5izOEGT/s1600/14-nap-on-rock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDo2uUq90gnF4xXE__Y1CcF2aMhq3vRH0iDuqdGuOSXlaF8_XXoSfrJZ_iZqHYLMICEBHtxvHLOakU24jWiQpgVzSqj-CaAb35m6dzxCjLN8ysZsCnlSITqiSO4dbM67BYj5hAF5izOEGT/s640/14-nap-on-rock.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate Nap on a Rock</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After we finally awoke Sleeping Beauty, which is now Kate’s trail name, we hiked up almost 2000 feet to our camp at 10,500 feet. Along the way, we passed one of the most beautiful meadows I have ever seen, with a clear blue creek zigging and zagging throughout it.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCy3aFStITOLN6NKv699WjdHDw1A3Ay2yzcJw7wCz9seYgPLj6BF4ADthTfCh9FQpO7BW7z1ld_FprI0mlr_5152V1qYZu12yIQnCF_ncvidLS0RgTH8CE6qhuB0GJo2QxIni2qFoze0Qp/s1600/12-deer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCy3aFStITOLN6NKv699WjdHDw1A3Ay2yzcJw7wCz9seYgPLj6BF4ADthTfCh9FQpO7BW7z1ld_FprI0mlr_5152V1qYZu12yIQnCF_ncvidLS0RgTH8CE6qhuB0GJo2QxIni2qFoze0Qp/s640/12-deer.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deer in Meadows</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM33_eKbmihsEe7OAe81fiKWdl-TZcVS9A80MyursQvg4mrCTUDrWiGgL9Fu-QWtirOmA5FiEO5BQb5XGX6lGQC0LuBSFSLU3ET9pYcuXlPS1hkwmdDsxY875qx4f9NIn0A4U2i7KmisEy/s1600/13-view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM33_eKbmihsEe7OAe81fiKWdl-TZcVS9A80MyursQvg4mrCTUDrWiGgL9Fu-QWtirOmA5FiEO5BQb5XGX6lGQC0LuBSFSLU3ET9pYcuXlPS1hkwmdDsxY875qx4f9NIn0A4U2i7KmisEy/s640/13-view.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meadow view of Mountains</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At camp Shank and Pocket Knife showed up and we all shared post-holing stories which got laughs now, even though many of our stories recounted tears at the time of the incident.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEL0kFh6DMOV98cdCVT68drHgpo7i8kM2ajSURJ6NPpaCnb030WRzBqQSTXZCYLwSPC-srhlgI-VwASUH9U-HT-ZuHUVIqmfmD1W07CGtpJz6BtMoadN8DopAgyZT8H77k7pcuPMac7ETa/s1600/16-campsight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEL0kFh6DMOV98cdCVT68drHgpo7i8kM2ajSURJ6NPpaCnb030WRzBqQSTXZCYLwSPC-srhlgI-VwASUH9U-HT-ZuHUVIqmfmD1W07CGtpJz6BtMoadN8DopAgyZT8H77k7pcuPMac7ETa/s640/16-campsight.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Campsite</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tomorrow we will start very early to get over Muir Pass and across seven miles of snow before the snow warms up too much. My legs can’t take much more of a beating from post-holing. As it is, I have scrapes, cuts, and scratches on all side of my lower legs from ankles to thighs.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU291fyKmZ-xmBcA-WxIIwMpN9KBM51bRWITVSSbYs5VQKWYKGZtUJEY0c6MUerrYFxYT5aJL-zPbDC_n0bJN3ov2zb26QvJyGGqqV9CnT-1JYp9ZIcJR5N4Msfg2H0Wde1uPAKX_0TIEL/s1600/20180609_232111910_iOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="1" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU291fyKmZ-xmBcA-WxIIwMpN9KBM51bRWITVSSbYs5VQKWYKGZtUJEY0c6MUerrYFxYT5aJL-zPbDC_n0bJN3ov2zb26QvJyGGqqV9CnT-1JYp9ZIcJR5N4Msfg2H0Wde1uPAKX_0TIEL/s640/20180609_232111910_iOS.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Muir Pass</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We are also trying to get further up the trail to position ourselves right for Selden Pass the following day. And if that’s not enough, we have the most dangerous ford thus far on deck tomorrow when we reach Evolution Creek in the afternoon. Water levels are reportedly waist to chest deep. Tonight I loaded up on calories in hopes of having a ton of energy for this push tomorrow. The Sierra in early June is relentless, but it is also rewarding for the handful of brave souls that dare hike through this area this time of year.</span>Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-4328074849787980892018-06-11T23:22:00.000-06:002018-06-12T08:08:23.580-06:00PCT - Day 51: 6/8/2018 - Fording Creeks and hellish descent<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 17.2 from 803.3 - 820.5</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 19.4</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeSpKhTa6cSnikG7ABDDS_6FJE_xgah4OphejbmvYV0fVGc_j0M8aAINkm1V-3Jabc7CKpm9xMaFQImbstatI9d1v1_JItjROe-90gw1Zk4KTvnzQkJ49DBIcrspnn2EMO3sUgH81QqAqY/s1600/shadow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1166" data-original-width="1555" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeSpKhTa6cSnikG7ABDDS_6FJE_xgah4OphejbmvYV0fVGc_j0M8aAINkm1V-3Jabc7CKpm9xMaFQImbstatI9d1v1_JItjROe-90gw1Zk4KTvnzQkJ49DBIcrspnn2EMO3sUgH81QqAqY/s640/shadow.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I woke up in a better mood, and definitely had more energy. I felt guilty for being in such a dark place the previous day, so I just wished Ziploc and Kate the happiest of hikes and set off at 5:30am. Guilt over being an asshole tempted me to go back and edit the blog post I wrote yesterday, but I decided not to out of integrity of my writing. I also think in brings up some awareness of how bipolar disorder cripples those unfortunate enough to have it. It can really destroy one’s life and relationships.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Today would be a double dose of tough climbs. My first goal of the day was Pinchot Pass at 12,107 feet. Later, in the afternoon, I would tackle Mather Pass at 12,094 feet.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsnua3iq5_cU-vGnRWfNaDp7bFpaLOQWcZ4cRbe3d3Cru_sq4p4ZvsSSS46gnkWac9EgAvw-4I0N6vixrnmY6eGz0SXqu-ZZKmBuJl7J7H7vxrUKiZTZDj4xMwKmBsH0O7fnU-BLg9zijH/s1600/2-mountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsnua3iq5_cU-vGnRWfNaDp7bFpaLOQWcZ4cRbe3d3Cru_sq4p4ZvsSSS46gnkWac9EgAvw-4I0N6vixrnmY6eGz0SXqu-ZZKmBuJl7J7H7vxrUKiZTZDj4xMwKmBsH0O7fnU-BLg9zijH/s640/2-mountain.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We had camped at about 10,300 feet. After leaving camp, I put on some music and climbed in great snow conditions. I found myself at the top of the Pinchot Pass at 7:30am by myself. I descended quickly to avoid having to walk on warm snow. For now, the snow was still mostly solid. I passed several lakes on my way down including the beautiful Majorie Lake, which is about where the snow gave way to the trail again. I say that word “trail” lightly, since this time of year the trail is often a stream. Walking all day with wet feet is quite normal in June in the Sierra.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCGNrRyEhdF2coKswuZWp5Ae-Z_ogH0Gtc5TKIcs-QQ1Vyoe2z_slZNY2j-T_1h8WPGvrZ9Y6xHiSLUmf8BdUsHaTUG19dDUUJBoI4rcgZ_kJoIVj12_OQGPF22BckUMXbo1zsHM_OFY6f/s1600/3-clear-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCGNrRyEhdF2coKswuZWp5Ae-Z_ogH0Gtc5TKIcs-QQ1Vyoe2z_slZNY2j-T_1h8WPGvrZ9Y6xHiSLUmf8BdUsHaTUG19dDUUJBoI4rcgZ_kJoIVj12_OQGPF22BckUMXbo1zsHM_OFY6f/s640/3-clear-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">On my way down, I had a trifecta of minor snafus. First, I sprained my right ankle (again) when I had a loose rock move under my other foot. Second, while I was filtering water, my sunglasses slipped off the top of my head and broke. They are now held together with duct tape. Third, I got bit twice by a fire ant after I forded the South Fork Kings River at 10,000 feet. This spot is the low point in between the two passes.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxNvPbFrPk-KShwpGYeOjlEs5p6maX_jcBc39LfprvqW1NJX6S9tshpEMfrUewIlxWzy7X8G38Fqfjr0Io033B_apFPbwGaYcn8vDVy_v7VniM5kqxMo0LgfF35ODxuSh6jTnVqS8vo9E/s1600/4-creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxNvPbFrPk-KShwpGYeOjlEs5p6maX_jcBc39LfprvqW1NJX6S9tshpEMfrUewIlxWzy7X8G38Fqfjr0Io033B_apFPbwGaYcn8vDVy_v7VniM5kqxMo0LgfF35ODxuSh6jTnVqS8vo9E/s640/4-creek.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The ford of this river is the first I would say was tricky. The current was fast, with white water at thigh level. I was worried how Ziploc and Kate would do there, so I waited for them. About 30 minutes later, they showed up and I went back into the water to assist, even though I’m confident they could have done it without me. I also thought it was a good way for me to let them know I still cared and was sorry for being difficult to get along with the previous day. Everyone made it across safely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I pushed on to Mather Pass while Kate and Ziploc took a lunch break. The climb to this pass involved fording several creeks. All the creeks fed into the South Fork Kings River, which I would end up fording again too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Near 10,800 feet, the snow became more prevalent. I had a decent sized creek to cross and it looked pretty deep. I saw a snow bridge to my right about 50 feet. The bridge was noticeably thin. I poked the thinnest part with a trekking pole and the snow fell into the creek below leaving just a hole from the snow basket on the end on my pole. I poked a thicker spot further out and it held after a couple of hard jabs. I would have to leap about 5 feet to avoid the weak part of the snow bridge. I gave it a running start since doing this with a 35 lb pack on your back is harder than it sounds. I landed and it held. I continued my climb with snow conditions worsening. I post-holed often. My lower legs were taking a beating. Often you post-hole into the snow and your shin, knee, or ankle hits a hidden rock. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The snow also causes many small lacerations all over your lower legs too. It was slow going, but eventually I found a rock rib and followed it to where the trail intersected. On an actual trail, elevation was once again gained with relative ease. I arrived at the top at 2:30 pm and ate a late lunch. I could see the route down and it looked like it would rival the Forester Pass descent that we also did in the afternoon. I decided to wait for Kate and Ziploc. I knew they were behind me, because I had seen them as little tiny people climbing up when I was on the final couple of switchbacks near the top.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When they made it to the top, we celebrated briefly, but we all knew the hellish descent that awaited us. Coming down from Mather Pass was really slow. It took the three of us almost three hours to descend just over 1000 feet in some of the worst snow conditions I’d ever seen. Trapdoor snow was everywhere. I was up to my waist several times. Sometimes it took 60 seconds to free oneself from the ugly post-hole. I had one leg in a hole and one leg still above at one point and thought I wouldn’t be able to extract myself, but eventually I did.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We tried to stick to the rocks as much as we could, but it was impossible to avoid crossing snowfields. Kate and Ziploc were having a rough go of it too. It was such an arduous descent. At about 11,300 after enduring this hell for about two hours. Ziploc post-holed really bad for about the hundredth time in the last 30 minutes. She pulled herself out after laying in the snow dejected for a few seconds. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCV0qB5N90w_RaqiTZ5Kdu0UjmMxhEWYJYc1yz-IUeWp_qtnRUpuIPTJEg86EMSK2Xcl-K-IXwu8Hm72a2NsUg3ZIwnkuBc332DzQ2tAqwpUFmaigw1AT1MyvETLOGVL5ta6U9mFJSMAS8/s1600/11-ziplock-worn-out.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCV0qB5N90w_RaqiTZ5Kdu0UjmMxhEWYJYc1yz-IUeWp_qtnRUpuIPTJEg86EMSK2Xcl-K-IXwu8Hm72a2NsUg3ZIwnkuBc332DzQ2tAqwpUFmaigw1AT1MyvETLOGVL5ta6U9mFJSMAS8/s640/11-ziplock-worn-out.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When she crawled onto the boulder that Kate and I were standing on, she started hyperventilating and couldn’t breathe. I undid her pack straps and Kate and I helped her sit up. Exhausted and frustrated with the endless snow, Ziploc just had a brief breakdown and told us she was going to camp on this rock. Kate and I explained that we were not leaving her there. Kate gave her a few gummy bears and I gave her my water w/ electrolytes. After only a couple minutes Ziploc pulled it together and we continued our descent. I followed a stream just to stay out of the terrible snow. It’s pretty bad when you opt to walk through ankle deep water to avoid post-holing in the snow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">At 6:15 pm, our hell had finished and we were back again walking on a trail that resembled a stream. Everyone was hungry, exhausted, and mentally spent. We walked along the edge of a ledge overlooking the Palisade Lakes while walking over and under waterfalls. The sun was dropping towards the horizon so we stopped to eat dinner on a beautiful spot with views of mountains in multiple directions, a waterfall above us, and a crystal blue lake beneath us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After dinner we hiked another 1/2 mile to a spectacular campsite along the lake’s edge.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We all quickly setup our tents and climbed in to take off our soaking wet shoes and put on dry socks. The sunset was beautiful, and one I’ll remember for a long time. Before everyone went to sleep, I offered sincere apologies to both Ziploc and Kate for my bad mood yesterday. They each agreed to forgive me and I hugged each of them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tomorrow is an easier day. We’ll drop elevation and then climb back up to a tent site just before Muir Pass. We are making sure we never again go over one of these high passes in the afternoon. My legs feel like they’ve been through a cheese grater. Hopefully sleep will help.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3nTROTt_MFNNTN-Ce5ZmlGxTY7idtdZweWF13NfVpzl2ppo88sG2yth828g7e8u20dKwk8PwadnNixvPTDdq4uc8bmiBdr3wgIshHA_EHypn_1u5ZuHn_7IDTf4uHssEb0wiSmMa6O_Ni/s1600/16-tent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3nTROTt_MFNNTN-Ce5ZmlGxTY7idtdZweWF13NfVpzl2ppo88sG2yth828g7e8u20dKwk8PwadnNixvPTDdq4uc8bmiBdr3wgIshHA_EHypn_1u5ZuHn_7IDTf4uHssEb0wiSmMa6O_Ni/s640/16-tent.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Circus Act's tent</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-36753322480736467272018-06-11T22:36:00.000-06:002018-06-12T07:46:27.407-06:00PCT - Day 50: 6/7/2018 - Mile 800 and bear encounter<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 13.4 from 789.9 - 803.3</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 14.6</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmz2G2i1cLMd20UkfYtrU4SVXauaIqEh4uV93ggszbQDy-KCfgManGlkwQt7cccTvoImM6iRTgFefkHeJe1JTksT1nMKLDDuV7HPuPqdyLL6pNsfmqmNIJa3bgcj5aZB3eSrT9sDX0i_tc/s1600/lakes2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmz2G2i1cLMd20UkfYtrU4SVXauaIqEh4uV93ggszbQDy-KCfgManGlkwQt7cccTvoImM6iRTgFefkHeJe1JTksT1nMKLDDuV7HPuPqdyLL6pNsfmqmNIJa3bgcj5aZB3eSrT9sDX0i_tc/s640/lakes2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Condensation covered my tent when I unzipped my sleeping bag to get up and use the bathroom. It was 5:15 am. Normally I would just start hiking, but today I was really depressed, so I just crawled back in my sleeping bag and put headphones in and listened to some music. First, Le nozze di Figaro performed by Sofia National Opera Orchestra followed by The Sound of Silence by Disturbed, the some Joyner Lucas, and so on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I finally extracted myself from my sleeping bag around 6:45 am. I was hiking fifteen minutes later. Once I slogged my way to the top of Glen Pass, I stopped and dropped my pack and scrambled up a ridge to a short 12,000 foot summit of some sort. The climbing was exhilarating and gave me a burst of energy and put me in a good mood for about 20 minutes, although I still hadn’t smiled today. As I was putting on Microspikes, Kate and Ziploc walked up. I hiked with them for about three minutes before the slow pace drove me crazy. I passed them and jogged down the snow slopes, using my trekking poles for third and fourth feet. I was being reckless a bit but I didn’t care. I passed a ton of people that were all moving snail-like for some reason. I get the impression that Kate and Ziploc were upset with my hasty descent of the mountain, because they basically walked right by me as I was sitting on a rock waiting for them. Once again something I did pissed someone off; surprise.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD22pN5Drp0XFfbN0bAbXr1jPBuYRkUozObv14VEOenvpvKSX5bHryvsEG3Lbtb7Am4lK7FCHorcTySc7vAgiMu12I6zUs8SKNQ5JfrRHenC86IBw3LvOsSUnfxma1c0-AJsHk8wGTjazc/s1600/rae-lakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD22pN5Drp0XFfbN0bAbXr1jPBuYRkUozObv14VEOenvpvKSX5bHryvsEG3Lbtb7Am4lK7FCHorcTySc7vAgiMu12I6zUs8SKNQ5JfrRHenC86IBw3LvOsSUnfxma1c0-AJsHk8wGTjazc/s640/rae-lakes.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">After descending Glen Pass, the scenery was spectacular. The Rae Lakes were amazing. I was still in an ugly place mentally and feeling lethargic on top of it. My body was shutting down. I desperately just wanted to sleep. After crossing a series of islands to the other side of the lake, I collapsed in the dirt on the side of the trail. I didn’t even take my pack off. I slept briefly and woke up when the sun was burning my legs. I got moving again but my body was failing. My energy level lowest it has been in 800 miles.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Regardless, I plodded along. After fording a lake outlet that was thigh high, I was walking silently down the trail and caught movement in front of me. I looked up and saw a thin cinnamon colored <a href="https://www.nps.gov/yose/learn/nature/bears.htm" target="_blank">bear</a>. He was on the trail coming the other way. He was only twenty feet away from me. I instinctively stepped backwards, but only one step. We kept eye contact for about five seconds. He then nonchalantly stepped off trail. I quickly reached for my camera but it had been stowed for the river ford I had just completed. Instead I grabbed my phone and got a couple decent shots as he wandered off.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PVlGpEmKSfS2PvBiJ3N6VqQVjdnSD-vlKm99CB4os4oRxL7wov5EUCKVxxUuncLs2x9T0AY6f_BCZO7ZxxT2d0uk3C1aDQiLajjRwRdlJatJY6OzMLvhb1W7qxU0Li14WMpTFwVX0MGn/s1600/bear2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PVlGpEmKSfS2PvBiJ3N6VqQVjdnSD-vlKm99CB4os4oRxL7wov5EUCKVxxUuncLs2x9T0AY6f_BCZO7ZxxT2d0uk3C1aDQiLajjRwRdlJatJY6OzMLvhb1W7qxU0Li14WMpTFwVX0MGn/s640/bear2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I had a slight burst of energy after seeing the bear and after hiking another couple of miles, I saw Ziploc and Kate under a tree eating lunch. They invited me to join so I did.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After eating, I opened up to both of them and explained what was on my mind and why I was in such a dark mood the last 24 hours. This was met initially with some understanding, however I would later regret this at dinner time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the afternoon, I tried hiking at a reasonable speed, but my body was failing. I was light-headed, fatigued, and simply exhausted. My energy level was again in the pits. I wasn’t even really into the fact that we passed mile 800. The trail meandered along the side of an intense creek that had numerous waterfalls, but the scenery couldn’t even cheer me up.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQU2PT-HDT-gBj8Ii5YeW6FvyzXlD2iotHzcStBf7Z_lkDVjSo1aPEvbnCrqj64bjg5s_tC-ECBKYSLQkGWHIOVq3DXp6nWh1VwTEej-l_k4EMqKZ6bRspfZReBBBn9aQMYQPeuHYkYRK/s1600/creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQU2PT-HDT-gBj8Ii5YeW6FvyzXlD2iotHzcStBf7Z_lkDVjSo1aPEvbnCrqj64bjg5s_tC-ECBKYSLQkGWHIOVq3DXp6nWh1VwTEej-l_k4EMqKZ6bRspfZReBBBn9aQMYQPeuHYkYRK/s640/creek.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ziploc was getting frustrated with me. I could only repeat to her that I simply felt like shit. This dynamic made Kate uneasy too, or maybe she was also just sick of my dark mood and my related lethargic actions too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">At dinner, it all came to a head when Ziploc told me I was being childish. My dark mood and constant explanation of my slowness and exhaustion was interpreted as childish behavior apparently.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My response to her was a defensive one. I told her that nobody was forcing her to hike with me and she could go hike by herself if she wanted. I told her I didn’t give a shit, even though I really did.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It’s then that I realized that Kate is stuck in the middle of all this bull shit. I decided I would separate myself from both of them tomorrow somehow to make this drama go away. I privately explained this to Kate so she’d understand.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I went back to my tent and cried. Last night, I realized my family at home didn’t love me. Tonight, I probably lost two friends, and likely my entire trail family that I loved. All this because of some mood swings that are beyond my control. I fucking hate bipolar disorder.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzknclvYSe7iqTGueNfJ0igMKF8iFa79dFZXmDWkSfAglLE7zVHTwXFkQFZOJnQV4j4xd7dxJmod9HZwPQEMWe84rAQnLR_Q702YEupQN-5A7ZocPa_u1s1tHJP2scVJcG7FkHOshB3PYp/s1600/campsite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzknclvYSe7iqTGueNfJ0igMKF8iFa79dFZXmDWkSfAglLE7zVHTwXFkQFZOJnQV4j4xd7dxJmod9HZwPQEMWe84rAQnLR_Q702YEupQN-5A7ZocPa_u1s1tHJP2scVJcG7FkHOshB3PYp/s640/campsite.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">campsite</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I guess I shouldn’t even bother writing about that too right? After all a mental health problem is just childish bull shit right?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I’m planning on waking up whenever I get up and hiking nonstop until I physically can’t move a muscle. I sort of secretly hope I fucking die in the process.</span><br />
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<br />Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-25736909156792789712018-06-11T22:11:00.000-06:002018-06-11T22:36:42.748-06:00PCT - Day 49: 6/6/2018 - insomnia, honker breakfast, and thoughts<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 1.0 from 788.9 - 789.9</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 11.1 (bonus miles in town and back over Kearsarge Pass again)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After battling insomnia from 1:00 am till 3:30 am, I finally slept a bit. I woke at 7:30am from starvation. I quickly packed up my stuff and ate seven double stuff Oreo's in the process.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I then walked to the post office and sent my bounce box 300 miles further to South Lake Tahoe and made my way over to the Alabama Hills Cafe in Lone Pine. Then began my effort to eat everything on the menu. Soon I was joined by Ziploc and Kate.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My breakfast was ordered in four parts and consisted of: 4 pieces of French Toast, 3 pieces of bacon, 2 fried eggs, a large glass of orange juice, an side order of biscuits & gravy, a large homemade oatmeal and raisin cookie, and a side of home fries.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After paying the first of six monthly payments on my breakfast bill, I got frustrated watching my two breakfast mates stare at their phones, so I left. I was already craving a Mt Dew, so I went to the store to and bought one.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">While loitering in front on the hostel in Lone Pine, I ate a banana which was one of three I had brought the previous day. Kate and Ziploc has migrated from the restaurant to the hostel with phones still glued to their eyes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">While eating that banana and drinking Mt Dew, I scored us a ride back to Independence when a guy and his wife walked up to a car which was parked in front of the bench we were sitting at. When driving us back, he pointed out a series of buildings on this road and told us it used to be an interment camp where Japanese Americans were held during World War II. He dropped us off in Independence and wished us well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I walked to the gas station and ate an entire bag of red hots candy and drank a big Gatorade.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We then parked our butts in the shade and waited for two hours before scoring a hitch back up Onion Valley Road to the trailhead. A great guy and former thru hiker named Steve took seven hikers including Ziploc, Kate, and me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The first hour of the hike back up to Kearsarge Pass was majorly shitty. My body was not happy with the heavy pack loaded with almost six days of food. My digestive system was also not happy having a hip belt cinched tight after my historic breakfast. As a result, Kate and Ziploc were ahead of me and my mind had time to wander, ponder, and wonder again.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I thought a lot about my life, and who I was. I thought about my family and friends. I realized that my wife and I had barely talked for almost two months. There had only been two phone calls and a few text messages mostly concerning resupply stuff and our dogs. I realized that I wasn’t really missed at home. Apparently the challenges my marriage had been undergoing for the last couple of years hadn’t changed with me away hiking the PCT.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I pulled my buff up over my face and cried as I walked by myself. I hiked past waterfalls, pristine lakes, and brightly colored birds and they didn’t even matter at that moment. Because that moment, I was acutely aware that I was not really loved in my own home anymore.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I knew I was loved by my daughter and a few members of my extended family, but that is different. Plus, my daughter is away at college and my family is all back east. When I go home after the PCT, I suspect it might be like walking into work after a long absence; people politely acknowledging you are back and maybe even happy to see you, but there would be nobody ecstatic and jumping into your arms because they missed you.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Before I started hiking, I suspected my life would be different when I got home after finishing the trail. I also suspected I would be different as a person. Back during my preparation for this hike, I wrote in my blog about how important it was for me to hike the PCT and how it was a life ultimatum of sorts. I don’t think anyone even read that with the exception of my father. Or maybe they did and thought I was just depressed or being dramatic. Either way, this trail is more than just an 18 inch wide swath of dirt that runs from Mexico to Canada. It is five months of hope.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijLSQp6k3Y1f_aaFcUf_8qMN2c2PJvPk3R_3Lh_ckmaU1p76kRmIenLi_hPQiYnHdA96F0MLCj7z1RJeDWxxJUlI2q6uNMR13QLTGuFWhdsh5wRr_Yuc2Eb1hsazLj3OlqsRm5xTkOyZ0-/s1600/deer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijLSQp6k3Y1f_aaFcUf_8qMN2c2PJvPk3R_3Lh_ckmaU1p76kRmIenLi_hPQiYnHdA96F0MLCj7z1RJeDWxxJUlI2q6uNMR13QLTGuFWhdsh5wRr_Yuc2Eb1hsazLj3OlqsRm5xTkOyZ0-/s640/deer.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lost in thought, I drowned out others with music in my headphones. I simply walked by a group of hikers including Kate and Ziploc on the top of Kearsarge Pass. I kept hiking deliberately only escaping my head long enough to snap some pictures of deer grazing above Bullfrog Lake.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb7MOb4nyJWTuJOybM63HJY0V7FuUyokIPaM8ca-j0gUVswGxRLs_MOA_OnrK76xMshKMYgdx-SQ3VdhM0tjzM9_PZ-FNRfwNTnaXM3lltE3JtMYYMldYNHMLFwt27hPMtG98_XFPCu7ja/s1600/deer-mountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb7MOb4nyJWTuJOybM63HJY0V7FuUyokIPaM8ca-j0gUVswGxRLs_MOA_OnrK76xMshKMYgdx-SQ3VdhM0tjzM9_PZ-FNRfwNTnaXM3lltE3JtMYYMldYNHMLFwt27hPMtG98_XFPCu7ja/s640/deer-mountain.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ziploc and Kate were noticeably annoyed with my isolating behavior. The sun has already set and they wanted to camp. I pointed out a good tent site and encouraged them to camp there. I continued walking up towards Glen Pass. They apparently were upset that I continued hiking and caught up to me. Ziploc yelled something at me that I only heard half of but I caught the key message which was “Fuck Off”. They powered on ahead as I sat on a stone and again lost myself in my thoughts.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKvKXAhqgnx9nTBUkilrqIF3Y3heUJdJPyrq-27whUPZLglMi9Oi6hc5Q_69zHSl-ORKGPxqEq2yeRomQHGT7kbyg-8dIeBUJKlEnrs-KqrltsUsaraVFaZNCAD1k7SEfm37hNrw6YBX46/s1600/trail-by-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKvKXAhqgnx9nTBUkilrqIF3Y3heUJdJPyrq-27whUPZLglMi9Oi6hc5Q_69zHSl-ORKGPxqEq2yeRomQHGT7kbyg-8dIeBUJKlEnrs-KqrltsUsaraVFaZNCAD1k7SEfm37hNrw6YBX46/s640/trail-by-lake.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After a few minutes, I started walking again. I walked by Ziploc and Kate as they were setting up their tents. I just wanting to be alone and found a camping spot on a ledge overlooking the fading light in the west. I camped alone. I ate Ramen Noodles and seven more Oreo's. I stayed up till 11 pm, well past hiker midnight and gazed at the stars in the moonless night. I let my mind race away with more destructive thought patterns until sleep eventually consumed me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkW4xpLVhDwhEY0brWNaYZwvgUZZCwATQ2BXccMLNQPGUX3vrGPxghV-d8h7OAp-Z5X2_2GwaqLyKfUyyaVlGPC2lvdxZMiIgM0eiA_fASajiBDJX1BCbbnoJeXjnL19dUDn00GySxESsL/s1600/sunset2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkW4xpLVhDwhEY0brWNaYZwvgUZZCwATQ2BXccMLNQPGUX3vrGPxghV-d8h7OAp-Z5X2_2GwaqLyKfUyyaVlGPC2lvdxZMiIgM0eiA_fASajiBDJX1BCbbnoJeXjnL19dUDn00GySxESsL/s640/sunset2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-55180350397489785802018-06-06T08:56:00.000-06:002018-06-06T18:11:01.240-06:00PCT - Day 48: 6/5/2018 - Kearsarge Pass<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 5.9 from 783.0 - 788.9</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 16.5 (mostly bonus miles over Kearsarge Pass)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVSf2vI71AfkX0xdE6CsLSKnZlPrcxTxI4irblQ2ijURWjWZcFsr0M9uDrEHjfIfHXweivdHf2fLNCIp2vd2Pvb5sN_lRL-ictr2dr3mNnChl7WIo5bhiDLhiqhyphenhyphen2756VrRDqy3zsWLQcN/s1600/morning-view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVSf2vI71AfkX0xdE6CsLSKnZlPrcxTxI4irblQ2ijURWjWZcFsr0M9uDrEHjfIfHXweivdHf2fLNCIp2vd2Pvb5sN_lRL-ictr2dr3mNnChl7WIo5bhiDLhiqhyphenhyphen2756VrRDqy3zsWLQcN/s640/morning-view.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning light</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We woke up to alpine</span><span style="font-size: large;"> glow on the mountains above our majestic campsite. It was a cold morning with frost covering the tundra around us. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpAnR5CQbRiK19vCksyWzJuVkA2qOI2mgxF73s6kxqN5tNvpiGiv7Gjz77yMtekmtLfevf65S81AcEayIZ1tzESdflUCcs7XvuV8w68UxbJJc43CcuApAQsX5ThkofpILoeaqXYhTh488r/s1600/morning-frost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpAnR5CQbRiK19vCksyWzJuVkA2qOI2mgxF73s6kxqN5tNvpiGiv7Gjz77yMtekmtLfevf65S81AcEayIZ1tzESdflUCcs7XvuV8w68UxbJJc43CcuApAQsX5ThkofpILoeaqXYhTh488r/s640/morning-frost.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning Frost</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We packed up, put on our wet shoes and got moving in an attempt to stay warm. Of course having a cold creek to ford at 6:45 am is always fun too. There was a log that crossed the creek, but it was at least 6 feet above a raging part of the water. A fall from that log would have been nightmarish. Therefore we opted to just ford the creek in our already wet shoes.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3TkkyWdaPsUE0I8yicifrTg51osp-hKjNnZiJB_xZTxGHstAJ6SYMfiYynyeNyzDUzTUUz-0tQUOUt7ItqJJS3uUrRLlUu407zt1v-qPhU0UwIddtMIdkcfUO6LvgtkBCrM0LqcpAQid/s1600/crossing-creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3TkkyWdaPsUE0I8yicifrTg51osp-hKjNnZiJB_xZTxGHstAJ6SYMfiYynyeNyzDUzTUUz-0tQUOUt7ItqJJS3uUrRLlUu407zt1v-qPhU0UwIddtMIdkcfUO6LvgtkBCrM0LqcpAQid/s640/crossing-creek.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Creek Crossing</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Walking towards the junction of the PCT and the trail to Kearsarge Pass was incredibly scenic. Towers of granite protruded above the pines which rose from the valley floor. Sunlight illuminated the rock and reflected off the water of the loud creek that paralleled the trail.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">At the turn off to Kearsarge Pass the trail steepened sharply. The hike up was slow and arduous. I had less than 1000 calories off food to last me this hike out to town and I was feeling sluggish.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Bullfrog Lake was the first of a few stunningly clear lakes we passed today. As we gained elevation, more lakes and waterfalls would appear. The beauty of this place is really difficult to capture.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpqWjvhKwZcfKcTIRToLFmeQZxCZcXtB7ZrBDIN9Yh38se_WCSOEEq0Hg_1yoZFRn6P5Y3lhY8p_ViZ8EgomeQhTSqlE5AkOnFcYTceEvN10oih4PSztBlT8JFWxKN6bSj1nctNrK49MNd/s1600/alpine-lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpqWjvhKwZcfKcTIRToLFmeQZxCZcXtB7ZrBDIN9Yh38se_WCSOEEq0Hg_1yoZFRn6P5Y3lhY8p_ViZ8EgomeQhTSqlE5AkOnFcYTceEvN10oih4PSztBlT8JFWxKN6bSj1nctNrK49MNd/s640/alpine-lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bullfrog Lake</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We ran into Gandalf near the top of Kearsarge Pass and exchanged a few words. He had just resupplied and was heading back to the PCT. When we reached the top of the pass, I took my pack off and scrambled up some rocks. On the top, I found a ceramic plaque left on a large boulder on the top. Briefly I pondered why this spot was so special to the person mentioned on the plaque and/or the person that left it up there. </span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTCnU9-1nFSHqH3EsK6iSR66ubziWZW1t3A7HWugUVPuXcXZEwCowIOuRSP-MMLm86UuPNkIhsmdiDTu6uXqycLEL_PryS5YeiQzq6Qo7UyY3mO4YHg6FnWfKYHvHTWWJgmJcPGwFg3GgH/s1600/resting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTCnU9-1nFSHqH3EsK6iSR66ubziWZW1t3A7HWugUVPuXcXZEwCowIOuRSP-MMLm86UuPNkIhsmdiDTu6uXqycLEL_PryS5YeiQzq6Qo7UyY3mO4YHg6FnWfKYHvHTWWJgmJcPGwFg3GgH/s640/resting.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rest Stop</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After climbing down from the rocks, Ziploc and Kate told me about a guy we’d seen twice that morning. He was carrying a garden hose strapped to the back of his pack. The ladies asked him out of curiosity why he was carrying it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The guy simply responded with “I’ve got to get it to Canada.” </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The girls struggled to control their laughter when hearing this and as the guy walked off laughter erupted.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ukZetExBl5qoqFk1VMrion4iErB0axtcuHKySS4xO1KKdVqVQdL7avkVYryLz-DfETs8-2aeTVXKcnTMTSVuTIOADmU83EXWvnUfmBxgoG0UDOKJznmA3tFsezuVUCrfnKHI7z2sbMFP/s1600/lake-views.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ukZetExBl5qoqFk1VMrion4iErB0axtcuHKySS4xO1KKdVqVQdL7avkVYryLz-DfETs8-2aeTVXKcnTMTSVuTIOADmU83EXWvnUfmBxgoG0UDOKJznmA3tFsezuVUCrfnKHI7z2sbMFP/s640/lake-views.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">From Kearsarge Pass to the Onion Valley trail head was four beautiful miles. More scenic lakes framed by snow-capped peaks, waterfalls, and trickling streams. At one of the bigger lakes, I arrived to find Ziploc and Kate with their packs off filtering some water. It was very hot, so I dropped my pack, took off my shirt, and went for a swim.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMYarbAE2TFQiC39sQtxqRGR1yQ4tq5KZePtwTXbAdUa5XwVv_cDthC1KfiMKNMcEshTZBO7w6uKklT0JTbvg-BP32DuHCTk5MsAmx2jBRz-eHmXXwUAr0zkTqwPoUDyprqgDDdyDGVAGk/s1600/lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMYarbAE2TFQiC39sQtxqRGR1yQ4tq5KZePtwTXbAdUa5XwVv_cDthC1KfiMKNMcEshTZBO7w6uKklT0JTbvg-BP32DuHCTk5MsAmx2jBRz-eHmXXwUAr0zkTqwPoUDyprqgDDdyDGVAGk/s640/lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The water was very cold albeit refreshing. I was only in for 20 seconds and then got out and back into the sun to warm up. I then realized I was missing the sunglasses that had been on top of my head. The three of us walked back to the spot where I’d went swimming. From the shore, I could see my sunglasses about 10 feet out and 5 feet down. I waded out using trekking poles for balance on the slick rocks. With trout swimming around my legs I lifted my sunglasses from the floor of the lake with my toes.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiga37bDugmPWER_oXYJqkJXa-MT4IWCQZAvQ7n0Nl_X0Y5GLHh02G8zuCDhF6O4p-T7n3IYP7PaBX4p6wbb973mgMb_7h5ktExiz65OUpx-fL1np_9_20d__X0D-ruFFfgYzrPI3aTEPXW/s1600/sunglass-fetching-swim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="1134" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiga37bDugmPWER_oXYJqkJXa-MT4IWCQZAvQ7n0Nl_X0Y5GLHh02G8zuCDhF6O4p-T7n3IYP7PaBX4p6wbb973mgMb_7h5ktExiz65OUpx-fL1np_9_20d__X0D-ruFFfgYzrPI3aTEPXW/s640/sunglass-fetching-swim.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Circus Act - sunglasses fetching</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">With my second swim complete, we all raced down the trail to the trail head with thoughts of showers and food circling our heads. When we arrived at the trail head, it was a ghost town; only a couple other thru hikers sitting in one tiny patch of shade. It was 98 degrees.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We started walking Onion Valley Road which is over twelve miles into town. I walked ahead of the girls who had stopped where they had a cell signal to try to contact a trail angel for a ride. I walked for three miles and only one car had driven by and it had been full with the other hikers we’d seen. I rested in the shade of a single pine tree in the hot and desert terrain. To my surprise, a car rounded the hairpin turn above me and pulled over. Ziploc and Kate were already inside and a wonderful woman who had been day hiking picked me up also. She drove us to the town of Independence where Kate and I had both mailed resupply packages.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9G5ahZCxyIQY6pYMzfWY0x_vRB5r_J-iBFZzKoOHlcIdLbZOo80fvOnIiX-THlOkPQLu4GgyT9Mq8cPWzwybaLQAQYHJbPFz3K9uiBvXzNBkvEYUUB6tuoC92RWU1Tdq3i1VV4sANRe0/s1600/road-view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1210" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9G5ahZCxyIQY6pYMzfWY0x_vRB5r_J-iBFZzKoOHlcIdLbZOo80fvOnIiX-THlOkPQLu4GgyT9Mq8cPWzwybaLQAQYHJbPFz3K9uiBvXzNBkvEYUUB6tuoC92RWU1Tdq3i1VV4sANRe0/s640/road-view.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Onion Valley Road</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After hitting the post office, we walked across the scorching street to a gas station where I was disappointed to find that they were sold out of soda. My dreams of a cold Mt. Dew dashed in an instant. I settled for a bag of chili cheese Fritos and a Gatorade.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We decided the town of Independence sucked, so we hitched to Lone Pine. We got a ride within two minutes from a great guy named Cameron. He was so awesome that even after driving past the hostel we were going to, he turned around and drove us back. Kindness like this is a rare quality in a person these days.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We checked in, showered, did laundry across the street, and made some phone calls. I talked with my daughter who’s taking a few classes at college this summer. It was great to hear her voice. I miss her so much.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyr1CM506VnXNMGu6qpn2kaCGChQ5vcE3ApY081s9OtUXXqmzypvYg1xiU5rfzQSVbY5-Xq4zcu4Ugqjvu8gkbMQ8OAArYoCd1ga9tNhN6p6u7asT0zO6IkqXr7cZPoaqJOTkbT7jqkKIl/s1600/dow-villa.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="1350" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyr1CM506VnXNMGu6qpn2kaCGChQ5vcE3ApY081s9OtUXXqmzypvYg1xiU5rfzQSVbY5-Xq4zcu4Ugqjvu8gkbMQ8OAArYoCd1ga9tNhN6p6u7asT0zO6IkqXr7cZPoaqJOTkbT7jqkKIl/s640/dow-villa.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hostel</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We ate dinner at a great Chinese restaurant where we dined with an elderly couple who’d also been waiting for a table. The five of us shared a table for six. During dinner we got to know Jim and Eve.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hiker hunger was in full effect for me. Before dinner, I had drank a 32 oz. double IPA, ate a banana and 7 double stuff Oreos. At dinner, I ate a plate of fried wontons and a family portion of Kung Pao. When I was done eating, Kate offered me the rest of her dinner which she couldn’t finish. I inhaled that too. After leaving the restaurant, we walked to the store and bought ice cream sandwiches. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tomorrow we’re going eat as much as humanly possible and then try to get back up to that remote trail head somehow. We’ll continue our hike in the Sierra and push onward to our next resupply in about 90 miles or so. </span><br />
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Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-753555401373950596.post-51737247321110145372018-06-06T08:13:00.000-06:002018-06-06T08:13:14.128-06:00PCT - Day 47: 6/4/2018 - Forester Pass<span style="font-size: large;">Trail miles: 16.7 from 766.3 - 783.0</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miles walked: 18.9</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhHdzAk__lCXnwgq-CQdLQb_U0Bt1JLzcDf95Qb0P5Wzw2s2KwlKjqYReacv8hOtLFyDZZ-wbmiDiNe9te-QxpQs9uVnQTRzexY0N0Ink3GDW14RoOUXqj4dab4MBxnPFhi6J9nFelPct/s1600/water-and-snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhHdzAk__lCXnwgq-CQdLQb_U0Bt1JLzcDf95Qb0P5Wzw2s2KwlKjqYReacv8hOtLFyDZZ-wbmiDiNe9te-QxpQs9uVnQTRzexY0N0Ink3GDW14RoOUXqj4dab4MBxnPFhi6J9nFelPct/s640/water-and-snow.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Water and Snow</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hugs are something that people in the city do way less than they should. Out here, it’s different. Love and camaraderie are ever present and it’s acceptable to show it openly. I hugged each member of my trail family multiple times today.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It started in the morning as Tapeworm, Opera, Peanut Butter, and Chilly Bin were heading out of camp around 7:00 am to go climb Mt. Whitney. HoosierDaddy was also staying in camp so he would be able to hike with this group. We all knew that with Kate, Ziploc, and myself hiking on today that we may not see each other for a while, so hugs were shared and feelings openly communicated. I choked back tears with each person’s embrace. I’m going to miss each one of these great people more than they’ll ever know. I hope we can meet back up again soon.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Leaving much later than normal, Kate, Ziploc, and I hiked a bonus mile back to the PCT not even imagining how our day would turn out.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6SoSBE8WSxo5tMKPPXjqvVZYCRMpd84_rwSl9IwnhivLA75GamAjbbwlWNFjDC_ZkevVRJ8gwJRC2Xf8eKdn-lE7dsuOc3zO8_P1E0em5gClUAOUtEzqj8t35PeNhpkO-tswzBYP8LFbs/s1600/morning-view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6SoSBE8WSxo5tMKPPXjqvVZYCRMpd84_rwSl9IwnhivLA75GamAjbbwlWNFjDC_ZkevVRJ8gwJRC2Xf8eKdn-lE7dsuOc3zO8_P1E0em5gClUAOUtEzqj8t35PeNhpkO-tswzBYP8LFbs/s640/morning-view.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning View</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">I stopped to capture a close up of a chipmunk since they don’t exist in Germany and Ziploc really wanted a picture for her family back home.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlJ4wRDIK4v7iHa92QbJB-ZxGqBSfaJHKwiFel21SK1d0Y4U8LO35i-PgowKQfbU_yLb1Gp0H9Nw4dtO8toUlXPfOb3QE6tjLTvHv40FhBv7aYfPKG_QZFgjj6ngllMhSpfGs7u11Ej3_-/s1600/chickmonk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="575" data-original-width="1024" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlJ4wRDIK4v7iHa92QbJB-ZxGqBSfaJHKwiFel21SK1d0Y4U8LO35i-PgowKQfbU_yLb1Gp0H9Nw4dtO8toUlXPfOb3QE6tjLTvHv40FhBv7aYfPKG_QZFgjj6ngllMhSpfGs7u11Ej3_-/s640/chickmonk.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">American Chipmunk</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">After a few miles, our legs were just getting warmed up when we had to ford Wallace Creek. We changed into Crocs and walked across it easily with water only coming up to our knees. Mosquitoes swarmed us and after killing five mosquitoes on one of my legs, I just raced up the hill hiking in my Crocs since stopping to put my shoes back on meant certain death from a thousand mosquito bites.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Less than a mile later we forded Wright Creek, which was also not too bad, but it was cold. At the top of a climb after Wright Creek which was above the tree line, I walked off trail about 1/10 of a mile to wash my shirt in a crystal clear alpine lake. It was simply stunning.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwDVwj212P9BCVRBWrYNxrMzLBD66nfZ50bcjC-aNKoyNSAcerDLOsw76avegC0h2FQ2xT-wXoCF_Oq64UkudouaJrTcPPZyRKCEA6oBjIXwYl_vnj8ILleoCtLBPNrX7GI6LJNpY1igy5/s1600/lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwDVwj212P9BCVRBWrYNxrMzLBD66nfZ50bcjC-aNKoyNSAcerDLOsw76avegC0h2FQ2xT-wXoCF_Oq64UkudouaJrTcPPZyRKCEA6oBjIXwYl_vnj8ILleoCtLBPNrX7GI6LJNpY1igy5/s640/lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alpine Lake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Three miles later it was Tyndall Creek which was raging. It was now approaching midday and the snow melt</span><span style="font-size: large;"> was swelling all the creeks and streams. We scouted upstream and downstream and Ziploc and Kate found a safe spot for us to cross. The water was just over the knee, but it definitely had a powerful current behind it.</span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2siy5P1lqbV67BkznKQJHI4YhBFVJTme0WygYJ0R6crL4LYurc7VV8AYiUpMzYmgBV0otJYWwZ9ARrC7AOFvgBCQ8IBVehE0_-CLN8-6iZkO7HmvFOVagRoah4vv1xD7tE2yODQiwqstB/s1600/creek-crossing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2siy5P1lqbV67BkznKQJHI4YhBFVJTme0WygYJ0R6crL4LYurc7VV8AYiUpMzYmgBV0otJYWwZ9ARrC7AOFvgBCQ8IBVehE0_-CLN8-6iZkO7HmvFOVagRoah4vv1xD7tE2yODQiwqstB/s640/creek-crossing.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Creek Crossing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">We took a quick break to put our dry shoes back on, eat, and put on more sunscreen. The sun was very hot and as a result, I was worried about the snow conditions we’d find on Forester Pass which was just five miles further. Normally I wouldn’t even consider hiking up and over a high pass that has a ton of snow late in the day. But, Ziploc and I were very low on food and we needed to get to town via Kersarge Pass which was still ten more miles after Forester Pass, not counting the fact that we still had 7.5 more bonus miles before we’d reach a trail head</span><span style="font-size: large;">. Then from there we’d then have to figure out how to hitch 20ish miles into town. So, we had to push over Forester Pass in the afternoon heat, in prime post-holing conditions.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyZqhvI4HTsQyEQlK2edSYSw6KIiqNH35v_7X_eezzfYPGX7aTd39pWOQkkeaBb_jKtaaZM8PTZy5tHzZIISg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We leapfrogged with a couple hikers named Monster and Cheez-It. They would end up climbing up the Pass with us for the later half of the ascent which got more and more dicey as we gained elevation. Forester Pass is the highest point on the PCT at 13,200 feet. The snow started in small patches around 11,400 feet. By 12,000 feet there was more snow than rock and much of the snow was covering semi-frozen alpine lakes. The trail was hidden for much of the climb. I led the group across rock ribs and across snowfields with the occasional punching through the snow up to my knee, sometimes my thigh.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpnOsnMkbsiSwg3BbYg5J3iBtZjU_q5iGSFcQrZhyphenhyphenSoZgrBmXfjCPYooMe1NFSO1zOF-vibh9h2xjH6GppnNR_OmuSowPgMIkkcFkywJMjnZEANWj3RC18EBLjCTwFh2_vWBzgit75AxhP/s1600/snow-patches.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpnOsnMkbsiSwg3BbYg5J3iBtZjU_q5iGSFcQrZhyphenhyphenSoZgrBmXfjCPYooMe1NFSO1zOF-vibh9h2xjH6GppnNR_OmuSowPgMIkkcFkywJMjnZEANWj3RC18EBLjCTwFh2_vWBzgit75AxhP/s640/snow-patches.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">snow patches</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">We bounced through talus fields and climbed up some granite. We also navigated tricky snow bridges over raging streams. Our hike had become a mountaineering adventure. I was having so much fun even though I cursed with every post-hole into the snow.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMG0532O7sPqz2ub-o4qaLKevx9SliFa3V7ChvgKY9GAqPWm0Lb8vbRkANPLAmzTtPsdByD38IE3uJ8Q3Th2_krnlWV7eSyFcxy6dKpP21zHsmf9zXIzTe2lNWCWz0kuRbZHM-GSWdIz_u/s1600/post-holing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMG0532O7sPqz2ub-o4qaLKevx9SliFa3V7ChvgKY9GAqPWm0Lb8vbRkANPLAmzTtPsdByD38IE3uJ8Q3Th2_krnlWV7eSyFcxy6dKpP21zHsmf9zXIzTe2lNWCWz0kuRbZHM-GSWdIz_u/s640/post-holing.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate post-holing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Kate and I had hiked through crap like this before in Colorado, albeit with lighter packs. And we’d always had boots, gaiters, and snowshoes, not the trail runners we were all sporting today. Ziploc on the other hand had never even hiked in the snow before. She embraced the suck well and was a quick learner. By the end of the day, she was a pro and had learned a lot.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGAk1EnPhS8qvDppfZtpR2VJDzWxCAWVLizixyG5mYCbVKnMbb-sBAMHxCErXE4V3EVbWKhfWZ06TFHT3RRglg2C4FUBrXmyjE0ijDzg1r1cLNNGsZUUjPlNS_iybd25uKJ4chIbdALPe/s1600/talus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1166" data-original-width="1555" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGAk1EnPhS8qvDppfZtpR2VJDzWxCAWVLizixyG5mYCbVKnMbb-sBAMHxCErXE4V3EVbWKhfWZ06TFHT3RRglg2C4FUBrXmyjE0ijDzg1r1cLNNGsZUUjPlNS_iybd25uKJ4chIbdALPe/s640/talus.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talus</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Near the top of Forester Pass, there’s a really steep snow chute to cross. It’s a place where a fall likely would result in death. After putting on Microspikes, I led the way across. Ziploc followed while I took a video and pictures and offered encouragement. She made it 90% of the way across and then slipped. She hit rock when trying to stop herself with her ice ax, but fortunately her feet also hit a large boulder where she stopped immediately. I ran over to help her up. She was understandably shaken a bit. It was a hair-raising experience for all of us.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHjuAb2ZDft6894NMeb6M30OxZJ7E-Oy7G0kfX2Gt-QsbzoushtP8Jg1X3W8JraL4FXrEqSiv5oLSr8j94qZuNHMamXZ8dSYWkzJ2916HiK3NO6EDJxJIBiFPxFlvtGJkmrfnwYB5CN0VZ/s1600/ziploc-snow-chute.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHjuAb2ZDft6894NMeb6M30OxZJ7E-Oy7G0kfX2Gt-QsbzoushtP8Jg1X3W8JraL4FXrEqSiv5oLSr8j94qZuNHMamXZ8dSYWkzJ2916HiK3NO6EDJxJIBiFPxFlvtGJkmrfnwYB5CN0VZ/s640/ziploc-snow-chute.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ziploc on show chute</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy0Zy4ap9AmmYwFussT7RcZDEJTk2J_0bE1GSaBpmyMd1vtAEB9rgr-uxIy6nTUj7WjF1P8GHogQMEZVxwnAYLnKQejrV38tXrrew1RDhgPdEMxv5tWbmn63RWisP5bZCX0geKgkYpGNe5/s1600/kate-snow-chte.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy0Zy4ap9AmmYwFussT7RcZDEJTk2J_0bE1GSaBpmyMd1vtAEB9rgr-uxIy6nTUj7WjF1P8GHogQMEZVxwnAYLnKQejrV38tXrrew1RDhgPdEMxv5tWbmn63RWisP5bZCX0geKgkYpGNe5/s640/kate-snow-chte.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate on snow chute</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Kate followed without issue as did Monster and Cheez-It. A few switchbacks more and we were all standing on the highest point on the PCT. It was 3:30 pm.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpZePHJn2MhRDYAvC8S6qJZ8Runr53J_mzhZnIrCWXagzBa8_RVx5p6yikk090Kr9aQQh2HyJwK4chx-8IkbY88gRiAjZWv2jDZz1AXzP1_uWJNDjaliH4SwewuCDqHDbrVi0dK4sLNyzv/s1600/forester-pass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpZePHJn2MhRDYAvC8S6qJZ8Runr53J_mzhZnIrCWXagzBa8_RVx5p6yikk090Kr9aQQh2HyJwK4chx-8IkbY88gRiAjZWv2jDZz1AXzP1_uWJNDjaliH4SwewuCDqHDbrVi0dK4sLNyzv/s640/forester-pass.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ziploc, Kate, Circus Act on Forester Pass</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We still had a long descent left, and we had no idea that it would take us just under three hours to cover the next two miles. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcbd6diMBGMoh0AXsbQ9nHMgfRN9fiWVh3xQ9rqh4PEB11DkWSt1B7CO_aj5D5HyKUTUpsUEUQ-fuD586M2DUsqIOhNrgIi8K_E5kUlcjF0jxMgqiYnhQTPHreEz0OuJXZKNXp5hDaw7Qc/s1600/descent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcbd6diMBGMoh0AXsbQ9nHMgfRN9fiWVh3xQ9rqh4PEB11DkWSt1B7CO_aj5D5HyKUTUpsUEUQ-fuD586M2DUsqIOhNrgIi8K_E5kUlcjF0jxMgqiYnhQTPHreEz0OuJXZKNXp5hDaw7Qc/s640/descent.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">descent</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">The descent was arduous, post-holing was frequent, shoes sopping wet, feet cold, and the trail mostly invisible. We tried to follow the trail via Guthook GPS, but often snow conditions would dictate an alternate route. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I got stuck in the snow twice briefly when post-holing up to my waist. My legs were getting shredded with each plunge into the snow since I was wearing shorts. We down-climbed a face that was way too technical to be doing with full backpacking packs complete with hated bear cans. We took it slow with full concentration on each step and with each plant of a trekking pole.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin8ck-seoOwjRuGDpRMOU95XPHrH6JrASKUY2nNyte3G_geesrbZWL1xJ185xzXoxYscbMDH9DEFi4t95hH9dq4qiyJIbHeMJPKenbkjLTBk3LgYiZnMYHzDZDIEN2ZhUn-B6RpUsxn0Jq/s1600/kate-postholing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin8ck-seoOwjRuGDpRMOU95XPHrH6JrASKUY2nNyte3G_geesrbZWL1xJ185xzXoxYscbMDH9DEFi4t95hH9dq4qiyJIbHeMJPKenbkjLTBk3LgYiZnMYHzDZDIEN2ZhUn-B6RpUsxn0Jq/s640/kate-postholing.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate post-holing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Laughs were still had, mostly at each other post-holing through snow bridges into streams underneath. We also laughed to keep the mood light since the suffering was on full tilt. After what felt like a decade, we finally reached a visible trail. It was a joyous moment and more hugs were shared.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje6Wlz7EnwaqPV-V-iV3Fgrre1mIpZyx8o5Z01U5nRGXhJrJwLxcCoQbjQFoWJCQJ3KfGRQHD8LfyDlTi8OS6D931hJk48WJlaHvsv5LKSUJR7hjIDdZ_r_76S4E0x_fA_CjTEP6AgVdN6/s1600/snow-bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje6Wlz7EnwaqPV-V-iV3Fgrre1mIpZyx8o5Z01U5nRGXhJrJwLxcCoQbjQFoWJCQJ3KfGRQHD8LfyDlTi8OS6D931hJk48WJlaHvsv5LKSUJR7hjIDdZ_r_76S4E0x_fA_CjTEP6AgVdN6/s640/snow-bridge.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">snow bridge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The trail was so full of water from melting snow that it was basically like walking down a creek. My feet were so wet already that I just got to the point where I gave zero fucks. I splashed right down the center of the trail, water reaching my calves.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ2PjfjCD03GsaAdnfIzE2tdQ8kMFIoD3RsgK8a7E5UGwWJf5EaJ-5kuCplRzfEcyp3JQw94E-dpKkyrflGUNF4q8sTcSGrbWckna117cPl9aDH1XZrd57S5vgOFKVoz7iQXOSBP-xICIE/s1600/water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ2PjfjCD03GsaAdnfIzE2tdQ8kMFIoD3RsgK8a7E5UGwWJf5EaJ-5kuCplRzfEcyp3JQw94E-dpKkyrflGUNF4q8sTcSGrbWckna117cPl9aDH1XZrd57S5vgOFKVoz7iQXOSBP-xICIE/s640/water.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">water from snow melt</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Slowly, the water on the trail became less and Ziploc spotted a beautiful campsite with glorious evening views looking back at the mountain we’d just come over.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjethbQa1dkCV7GSvt-ztjT_33GA5IDwD-TUr0aeALINBpb-Q7CunE5tiUoI4VUqJCIErzLVAYMdlyRwWQouDnAamrgioB3EK2y-l0M6vT2seACVUQlKellyeUqEru80JWa1G_jF-KI5u0G/s1600/end-of-day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1555" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjethbQa1dkCV7GSvt-ztjT_33GA5IDwD-TUr0aeALINBpb-Q7CunE5tiUoI4VUqJCIErzLVAYMdlyRwWQouDnAamrgioB3EK2y-l0M6vT2seACVUQlKellyeUqEru80JWa1G_jF-KI5u0G/s640/end-of-day.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">End of Day view</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After setting up tents, we sat together and ate a well deserved dinner. We talked about our memorable day. It’s a day I’ll never forget. We’d survived this crazy day only with help from each other. The three of us bonded forever by Forester Pass on a hot day in early June.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I hope the rest of our trail family hits this pass earlier in the day when the snow is more solid.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Tomorrow we’ll hike six more PCT miles to Kearsarge Pass and then 7.5 bonus miles. There’s a shower, laundry, and hopefully a burger with a pound of bacon awaiting me.</span>Fred Wilburhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04207527241484910353noreply@blogger.com0