So I hike back to the bridge and unbeknownst to me, there's a guy named Cuppa Joe already camped on a sandy beach below the bridge. But in my gotta-make-sure-I'm-not-lost tunnel vision, I didn't even stop to look.
In more good decision making, I decide to hike up a "shortcut" trail to gain some time back in my search. You'll see these shortcut trails from time to time cutting straight down from a higher portion of the trail to a lower, most likely used by people that are tired of switchbacking, or locals just looking to travel more quickly. Unfortunately they only make the journey shorter going down as they are really steep and are made up of loose dirt that causes you (or at least me anyway) to slip and make no progress.
Heart racing and no time saved, I make it back on to the trail a bit higher up and push on for a few minutes before running into Sundown, a guy I met earlier in the day.
He's having the same issues as me and we both start discussing where on the trail we might be. But when I tell him that I've been over the bridge and back, he sounds relieved. "Good. That's only supposed to be a few miles from the hot spring. Let's see if there's anybody there we can ask about the trail."
So we walk down together, he casually spots Cuppa Joe camping in the sand and asks him if we're headed the right way.
"Yeah. Just over the bridge and make a left around that way." He points to where I had come from about 45 minutes earlier.
Sundown and I decided to camp there as the bridge was as far as I was planning on hiking anyway and during my expedition to the right-but-thought-it-was-wrong side of the river, there was no real place to camp anyway.
After burning my tongue eating a rehydrated potato, cabbage and leeks dinner, I got to live out my skinny dipping wishes from earlier in the day, although I worried that hikers would come over the bridge, witness my psuedo bath and laugh at my exposed cheeks. Fortunately no one witnessed me shivering on the bank as I dried off (the wind always seems to kick up when you least want it to out here).
I warmed up pretty quickly because our camping spot was pretty damn sweet. Tucked into a little nook, all of the trees and tall grasses kept the wind out. That and it was a nice, warm night. Barely needed my sleeping bag.
This was my favorite night cowboy camping. It was the first time on the trail that I heard crickets, the moon was bright and full and looked like it was shining just for me. It felt like lying down on a Spring night back home.
I woke up at 5:00am because Cuppa Joe and Sundown said they were getting up early too. Neither were up when I climbed out of my bag. But I didn't curse them for my extra-early start because they were up soon enough, and Cuppa Joe was actually out hiking before I was.
Lucky for me because a few miles after the bridge you come to this useless dam that holds back no water. I come down the one side and start climbing up the other when I hear a voice calling my name from somewhere below me.
"God? Is that you? Have you finally decided to single me out for a religious mission?"
"Brad! You're going the wrong way!" Cuppa Joe calls to me from some tall grassses next to the mighty waters of the crossable-on-a-log creek that the dam struggles against daily.
Cuppa Joe directed me back to the trail and also to the logs to cross the creek that he didn't see until after he had already gotten wet fording it. Score one for me.
A few hours later we hit a real dam that held Silverwood Lake and me and a couple other people ate lunch there. The picnic area was really nice, except for the bathroom which nobody who's not hiking would have used, but let's just say that I had to go.
Skinny dipping incident number two also ocurred at lunch and I've come to realize that any swimming in the high altitudes in May is probably going to be cold. Also, the spot I put my clothes down on was an ant hot spot. Very fun cleaning them off.
The weather at the lake was not the greatest. Really windy, blowing stuff everywhere, including my toilet paper and maps which I had to fish out of the bushes. Clouds came over the ridge across from the one that the PCT climbs and soon the trail was covered in fog. I was getting wet, my poncho was impossible to keep covering me because the wind was blowing so hard and I started worrying that I'd have to make my first camp i the rain.
But after practically sprinting over the top of the ridge, the trail dropped down in elevation, the clouds disappeared and a rainbow came out across the valley. Couldn't take a picture of course because I stuffed my camera in a plastic bag, but still.
Now, here comes the fateful decision. It's about 4:20 when I hit mile 331.8. Interstate 15 is at 342. I think the fastest I've hiked so far on the trail is nine miles in two hours and 45 minutes, so I figure I can do 10 in three and a half.
Do I go for it or camp early and make I-15 in the morning? You know which way I went.
No comments:
Post a Comment