PCT 2018: Days 1-4, Campo to Julian
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 1-4 from Campo to Julian, mile 0-80.
May 5, Day 1
20.5 miles [20.5]
I am absolutely stunned at how beautiful it all is. Met Ian and got my portrait taken, he says he'll be at the northern terminus sometime in October. Twenty minutes into our hike, we crossed the first of many milestones; mile-marker 1. It was hard not to smile. Two miles in, we double-backed into Campo for water. I later realized Hauser Creek was 15 miles away and the two liters of water I initially brought wasn't even going to last 10 miles. Saw a dozen or more hikers and found myself jumping to conclusions about their abilities. They probably knew about the lack of water sources though. Before Morena Mountain, we met “Charlie”, a weathered man on a motorbike. “You guys know you're crazy, right?” We chuckled and declined his offer for water—that lesson already learned. Adam seemed to be a wizard with Guthooks; kicking myself for not trying it out sooner. “The malt shop closes at 8 p.m., that's my goal” he said dryly as the sun was setting. At 7:59 p.m., we arrived wet and tired. Split a shake and french fries. Can't help but think this wasn't 'deserved'. Today was a butt-kicker, I've got to remember to drink more water—take care of yourself.
Adam basks in the glory of mile 1.
Railroad tracks, mile 3.
“Charlie”, somewhere near Morena Mountain.
Sunset over Lake Morena, mile 19.3.
May 6, Day 2
19 miles [39.5]
First full day on-trail! It got intensely hot quickly; tomorrow we're going to need to start earlier. A few miles in we stopped and chatted with a woman who introduced herself as “Nona From Nowhere”. She waved a bag of peanuts still in their shells at Adam and I. “You guys got names yet?” We shook our heads, smiled, and introduced our real names. “Hey Illinois, want some peanuts?” she said to Casey, the girl we'd been leapfrogging all morning. A big grin covered her face, “you know, I'm a Triple-Crowner,” she said wryly. “I angel a little bit up in Vancouver—you'll see me later.” She bid us a safe journey and we thanked her for the peanuts. The rest of the afternoon was rather uneventful. In the evening, when I went to put away my umbrella, I was stunned to find my second hiking pole was missing. It must have snagged on a branch and been stripped from my pack. My music was far too loud to have heard anything. Adam and I double-backed for more than a mile to no avail. Bummed to have lost a piece of gear so early, but I can't imagine a day when I won't need the umbrella. For now, #onepolepatrol.
“Nona from Nowhere”, has hiked all three long-distance trails in North America.
Adam near Cottonwood Canyon, mile ~24.
Kitchen road, mile 30.2.
Sunset over Troy Canyon, mile ~38.
May 7, Day 3
20 miles [59.5]
Started the morning strong with a Snickers bar. Made it to Pine Tree Lodge for some biscuits and gravy and a fresh espresso—I couldn't resist. Briefly stopped at the Mount Laguna general store; got a Budweiser and some chips. What a quaint little town. Today was also my first trail magic! At Roadside Lookout, we met Andrew and Jamie, who gave us ice-cold sodas and regaled us with stories of just how bad Scissors Crossing was going to be. Got moving after a nice long break, cool breezes made today tolerable. Filled up water and crushed the beer at Penny Pines Point; this carry has to last until Julian tomorrow—28 miles. After the sun had set, I took of my shirt for the last few miles of the day. Refreshing evening air filled the canyon as stars slowly began to appear.
Kwaaymii Point, mile 53.3.
Sunset over Granite Peak, mile 56.5.
Oriflamme Canyon sunset, mile ~57.
Sunrise trailhead campsite at night, mile 59.5.
May 8, Day 4
20.9 miles [80.4]
I'm getting better at waking up earlier; today we started hiking at 6:40 a.m. Although it seemed like there was only a few hours of tolerable hiking weather before it got insanely hot. The entire slog to Scissors Crossing was novelty-hot. My water tasted about 95 degrees. Every few miles I saw a full, unopened Lifewtr, each bottle scrawled with “the desert is a cruel bitch” in Sharpie. There were rumors of a guy who didn't carry enough water and had to turn back—apparently these bottles were his offering. Finally we made it to Scissors Crossing, I Was nervous how my fist hitch was going to pan out. Five minutes later, we were zooming into Julian with our new friend, “Monica from Santa Monica”. Hikers in town said pie couldn't be missed; but we opted for jalapenos and sausage at Romano's instead.
Near Julian, California, mile ~63.
Romano’s Pizza in Julian, California.
Dirty, blistered feet.
Hike On?
PCT 2018: Days 17-21, Big Bear to Wrightwood
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 17-21 from Big Bear to Wrightwood, mile 266-376.
May 21, Day 17
16.2 miles [282.3]
Leaving our host's house was quite challenging. A few hikers still needed to do some errands which felt like it took forever. Adam and I got dropped off at Von's for a few supplies, then waited patiently for our ride to show up. While standing at an intersection, a braceleted arm shot out of a '01 Toyota Camry, waiving a $20 bill. Two girls, their Coachella sticker prominently displayed on the rear window, iced Starbucks in hand, were looking right at us. I yelled back “Hiking!”, then immediately realized I wasn't above accepting free money while I watched them speed off. Oh well. Finally, around noon, we arrived back at Highway 18, resupplied, showered, and rested. I felt amazing. Did 16 miles before setting up camp on top of a small mountain Mitchy insisted we check out. He wasn't wrong, the view was completely worthwhile. Crushed a tuna taco—I could get used to these.
The gang gets dropped off at highway 18, mile 266.1.
Dog goes for a ride, Big Bear, California.
Sun worn wood texture.
Scrub oak and setting sun, the colors of California.
Sunset over San Bernadino National Forest, mile 282.3.
May 22, Day 18
27.8 miles [310.1]
New longest day at 27.8 miles in addition to crossing the 300 mile-marker! Got decent sleep, started hiking by 7 a.m. Didn't talk much with the group, knees felt good so I just kept moving. At one of the Deep Creek Canyon crossings there was a collapsible ice-chest with fresh apples and caramel which was quite refreshing in the afternoon heat. Most of the day just went by until Adam and I arrived a the Deep Creek Hot Springs. I soaked my feet and cleaned off the past few days of dust and sweat in the soothing, warm water. We waited for an hour but our group didn't show up. With daylight left and camping at the hot springs illegal, we did a few more miles while dusk settled in. Finished the day with tuna taco and avoided mosquitoes. I guess they exist in the desert too. Bastards.
My worn hand from using a hiking pole.
Sunset over Deep Creek, mile 310.1.
May 23, Day 19
25.5 miles [335.6]
Another 25-plus mile day. Had a Snickers and washed my feet on the last crossing of Deep Creek. Made great time and managed 18 miles to Silverwood Lake where we stopped for lunch. I'd noticed over the past few days Adam has been quieter than usual, his playful snarky demeanor replaced with quiet somberness. It was bumming me out. I inquired and he told me he wants more independence, something I'm shocked I didn't realize sooner. We left the lunch spot, not saying another word. I guess I could do this hike alone—I just don't want to that badly. Bad thoughts. It was hard to think about anything else for the remainder of the day. Only the hope of tomorrow's McDonald's was enough to keep my legs moving. We set up camp, distant train horns filled the still air every 20 minutes. While eating dinner, we met “Kickstand” who mentioned he's working on a calendar year triple crown. It took me a few moments to realize the extent of his plans. “Mind if I crash your campsite?” he asks, taking off his pack and pulling out dinner. We both nod, tired from the days efforts. “Man, it's so cool that you guys are doing this. My brother would bitch and moan about Tuna Creations or filtering water.” Nervously laughing, I found myself holding back tears. It had been an exceptionally hard day.
Cleghorn Mountain, outside of Big Bear, mile 331.8.
The last crossing of Deep Creek.
Abandoned used pair of shoes.
A band of quartz, mile ~312.
Cedar Spring dam, mile 324.
May 24, Day 20
26.1 miles [361.7]
Today hurt the most since it was our third day in a row doing over 25 miles—but I'm still stoked. Woke up covered in dew which made me nervous about packing away my quilt. Made it to McDonald's like it was the last mile of the Boston Marathon. When we arrived we saw “Kickstand” impatiently waiting, he begrudgingly mentioned it was closed due to a power-outage. Also waiting were two other hikers, Will and “Two for Two”. With all layers on we waited in the damp clouds watching tourists and commuters get out, throw a small fit their Micky-D's was closed, and drive off. I wanted to inform them this was our only water source for another 21 miles. After an hour, they finally opened. I ordered a McMuffin, two hash browns, two sausage burritos, and a coffee, devouring it quicker than it took to make. Will, wracked with hiker-hunger, had some trouble understanding exactly what was included in the combo meal, taking several laps with the cashier. I made sure to call him “Combo” for the rest of the day. A quick stop at the gas station for a beer to smash and one to pack out and we were back on trail. The clouds burned off and we were left hiking up a huge hill, hot, exposed, and buzzed. Had another tuna taco and the other Steel Reserve.
Agave americana, mile ~362.
Burn area and rebirth, mile ~360.
Hiking in the mist towards Cabazon, mile ~363.
Adam admiring an agave bloom, mile ~347.
Cajon Pass view, mile 343.4
Swarthout Canyon, mile 347.2.
Interstate 15 at Cajon Pass, mile 342.
May 25, Day 21
14.5 miles [376.2]
Woke up to an island in the sky—a huge bank of clouds covered the valley floor—and saw where we were five days ago. Took a relaxing snack break on the Discovery chair lift at Mountain High. Hitched into Wrightwood and got a free hot dog with fixin's at the market. Resupplied at Jensen's, then celebrated our hard work with a BBQ chicken pizza from Mile High splurging for cinnamon twists, what the heck. Got a ride out from Ed in his BMW 328i and tried to levitate over his leather seats. Neglected to fill up water and found myself needing more only a few miles after starting. Made a naive call to filter water at Jackson Flat which was off trail and probably not necessary. Adam wasn't thrilled. Aimed to get as close to Mount Baden-Powell as possible; the cool evening air made the ascent far more enjoyable. Cloud cover which had hung out all day suddenly began to glow with the setting sun. Rich cotton-candy hues filled the fog around me. It's going to be a cold night.
Pinus lambertiana, sugar pine, mile ~376.
Ascending Mount Baden-Powell, mile ~376.
Vincent Gap, highway 2, mile 374.
Hike On?
The Road Trip Day 9: Alien Landscape
I awoke at 7 a.m. sharp, rain began falling at 7:02 a.m. Packing up in a light sprinkle is rarely enjoyable, but it was something we had to do. At least…
Bryce Canyon + Capitol Reef National Parks, Utah
May 15, 2015
I awoke at 7 a.m. sharp, rain began falling at 7:02 a.m.
Packing up in a light sprinkle is rarely enjoyable, but it was something we had to do. At least we got clear skies for yesterday's hike.
Today's drive was one of the longer ones; we boogied to get camp broken down, car packed and refueled, and road snacks restocked.
We waved goodbye to Zion.
Click here to view this in Google Street View.
Light rain suddenly turned to flurries of snow. The storm we had narrowly been avoiding finally caught up to us.
Along the way we stopped at Bryce Canyon. The visitor's center was packed due to the crummy weather. We took a quick visit to the rim, but you couldn't see a single hoodoo; it was completely socked in. Carter got his sticker all the same.
A very limited and snowy view of Bryce Canyon from the Rim trail.
We pressed on.
A pretty common view along State Route 12.
Head of the Rocks Overlook, Utah.
Looks like we skirted the storm.
The scenery was sublime. State Route 12 might be my favorite road in the US—certainly top three.
We started to get ahead of the storm. Another pull-off caught our attention. “Head of the Rocks Overlook”, proclaimed a small sign. Massive, angry clouds traveled West.
We were headed East.
Caleb made a feline friend during brunch.
The Smith's family friend has a restaurant we were told could not be missed, so we skipped breakfast to save time and not spoil our appetites.
Hell's Backbone Grill had a charming rustic vibe. We looked over the menu and didn't take long. Caleb got French toast, Carter got a quesadilla, and I got shirred eggs with several cups of coffee.
It was pure heaven for our travel-addled bodies.
Quite the brunch spread at Hell's Backbone Grill.
We said our thank-yous and got back on the road once again. Capitol Reef was on our way to Moab; we couldn't resist a short stop at the visitor's center.
Carter's sticker-window is running out of real estate.
Chimney Rock and Mummy Cliff as seen from Utah State Route 24.
Tonight, we are staying at a cheap RV and campground spot in Moab. Hour after hour, our vehicular spaceship zoomed through the alien landscape.
We arrived at the River Oasis RV Park in Moab. Apparently, it has free WiFi, but I had trouble loading Google. Dinner was beef stroganoff with several additional cloves of garlic.
Tomorrow's plan is Arches.
Hey, want a ride?
Turn it around:
Stick your thumb out:
The Road Trip Day 10: A Million Square Miles
It was another drizzly, rainy morning. Having showered last night, we had no further obligations or desires to stay another night at the 'majestic' River Oasis RV park…
Arches National Park + Dead Horse Point State Park, Utah
May 16, 2015
It was another drizzly, rainy morning.
Having showered last night, we had no further obligations or desires to stay another night at the 'majestic' River Oasis RV park, so once more, we packed our belongings in the rain. It wasn't bothersome, hell, it rained less than yesterday.
On our way into the park, we stopped for fuel and snacks. I got another Frappucino, easily my fourth during this trip.
My day-bag practically packs itself now. We were ready to go in less than 30 minutes.
A pair of hikers taking a break along Delicate Arch Trail.
Delicate Arch is is in the middle of the park and it made sense to beat the possible crowds. After a short drive into the park, we got out of the car and onto a trail.
It looked just like the postcards.
Pine Tree Arch.
Tunnel Arch.
We also went to Pine Tree Arch, Tunnel Arch, and Landscape Arch. The park didn't seem the least bit crowded. Plus, the rain and clouds had started to clear, leaving us with some gorgeous views.
We spent the second half of our day at Dead Horse Point State Park.
Upon arriving at the parking lot, I promptly got out and rummaged through our swampy ice chest. Tailgate down, I made tuna salad; complete with celery, garlic, and capers. A small roadside-cafe van was selling lunch items, but most importantly, fresh espresso. I was beyond stoked.
I got my iced Americano and considered the day worthwhile.
The three of us munched under the shade of an awning. The sun was warm and the breeze was cool.
Refreshed, we walked up a small hill to check out the acclaimed overlook.
La Sal Mountains as seen from Dead Horse Point lookout.
I was genuinely stunned.
The three of us stared slack-jawed for quite some time.
We drove back into town and checked into the Lazy Lizard Hostel. Everyone was enamored with the place. After unpacking, we immediately booked a second night. It was that cool.
Showered, and with fresh clothes (not even previously worn), we went out for dinner at the Moab Brewery. It had rave reviews and a solid line every time we had driven by earlier. I had a patty melt with Swiss and mushrooms which was complimented well by an orange hef.
Back at the hostel, we continued our cribbage saga. There's no use in fibbing; I got demolished. It didn't matter, we laughed the entire game.
It kept me from remembering—only three days remain.
Hey, want a ride?
Turn it around:
Stick your thumb out:
The Road Trip Day 11: Fractal Canyons
I woke up on the floor earlier than I wanted to; I neglected to close the blinds. Light streamed into our tiny room. Not long after…
Canyonlands National Park, Utah
May 17, 2015
I woke up on the floor earlier than I wanted to; I neglected to close the blinds. Light streamed into our tiny room.
Not long after, my fellow compatriots were up and moving. Our plan was to check out Canyonlands National Park and word from our mutual friends told us to visit the southern half.
Needles District Visitor Center looked like a mirage from the distance. Why was there any structure built there? For the last 75 miles, this was the only man-made thing I saw other than the highway.
The nice park ranger said we would have a hard time passing up the Slickrock Foot trail. We parked the car and hopped out.
Caleb Jennings before his morning Gatorade.
Sprawling fractal canyons as far as I could see. Where were we? When? How? We schwacked over rocks, shrubs, and cyanobacteria. Apparently they're one of the oldest things on our planet.
We got hungry for lunch and aimed for the car. Our ice chest, beginning to take on some odor, had tuna salad fixings from yesterday.
Everything wrapped in tortillas tastes great.
Click here to view this in Google Street View.
There were a few short trail loops on the way out of the park; Roadside Ruin and Cave Spring. Both lived up to their names. For nearly half a mile we walked under eroded boulders. Moss and delicate ferns sprouted from the damp, weeping rocks.
Cleome lutea, or yellow beeplant.
A typical scene at Canyonlands.
We were surrounded by the oddest of tableaux.
Parched and tired, and with snacks no longer carrying their weight, we drove back into Moab. The brewery pulled us in. Beer and gelato was just the kind of refreshing treat we needed.
Back at the hostel, we took turns showering and checking the internet. I scrolled to see if I had any emails or if there were any dumb internet videos.
There were.
We tried to keep strong and remain frugal for dinner; dehydrated didn't sound delicious. It didn't work. We ordered a chicken-pesto pizza from a local shop. And garlic knots.
Also, I think Carter is cheating at cribbage. You can only get so many 16-point hands...
Hey, want a ride?
Turn it around:
Stick your thumb out:
Summer 100: #21-30
After checking out the South side of camp, we about-face and head back to the cabin. Jessica decides to stay while I continue alone to go check on our water tank. Before I start...
Summer 100: #21-30
21/100
After checking out the South side of camp, we about-face and head back to the cabin. Jessica decides to stay while I continue alone to go check on our water tank. Before I start the small assent up the Northern hill, I look past the pair of Ponderosas which serve as sentinels to one of our smoking areas. The ground is covered in large hailstones, a heavy fog clings to the damp coldness near the surface. I exhale deeply and see the ghost of my breath hang before me. The stillness is deafening, interrupted only by the punctuation of drips falling from distant leaves. An unfamiliar June.
22/100
Beetles, moths, wasps, hornets, crickets, spiders, and flies, insects abound at Zastrow. Having electric lights definitely gives away our location, broadcasting beams of false hope to any bugs looking to seek shelter inside our rooms. I quickly learned to leave my lights off and my door closed during dusk, or else suffer through a night of inhaling gnats. Unidentified cicadas can be heard buzzing alongside the river bank during the heat of the day. The large rainstorm which drove back the bugs for a few days has since departed; clear skies are in the forecast.
23/100
The sun begins to set, marking the end to our first full nine-day work week in the backcountry. Already, we have begun experiencing what it means to live and and work under the same roof; not the easiest task, especially for such a young staff. My mind wanders as I bus dinner's dishes, thinking about how meal-time is going to work when campers start spending the night. I gaze out the kitchen window and see a gargantuan creature bobbing his head furiously, each stride gaining on the cabin. As the lumbering beast nears, I quickly realize Carter has come to visit for the night, complete with boombox! After a disproportionate high-five, we power through evening chores, put the staff to bed, and start heading up the road. We reach a clearing I remember finding in the daylight and plop down and discuss our summers as they have progressed. We talk about our staff, cute girls, challenges we are scared of, everything while we remain blanketed under our metaphor. Blissfully, we chat away the moonless night. Already so much has happened, yet we have only just begun.
24/100
It is extremely convenient and exclusive to be so close to another camp. Abreu is just over a mile away to the West and I decide to take a half-day to walk over and visit our neighboring camp. I have already been at camp for nine days and have another three to go before I can take some days off. I definitely need to give my staff a breather for the evening. The afternoon is cool from last night's heavy rainfall and though I don't require a break during the brief hike, I take one anyways under the shade of a particularly large scrub oak. Like most rocks here, the ones surrounding me are covered in lichen, these being a brilliant shade of chartreuse. I stand up, convincing my inner demons once again my visit is a hangout and not a sabbatical starting after week one.
25/100
Completely new program is not a common occurrence on the Ranch, especially one which features motorized vehicles in the outdoors. The ATV program has been extremely controversial both for its perceived “recklessness” and for slightly non-Kosher LNT practices. I take the short hike up to the site, the 2-mile course has already been scouted out and rough-cut in the last few weeks. Currently, a wood chipper team and their beast devour the remains from the demo team's labor, lost beyond the tree line. I arrive at the middle of the meadow and face Northwest, pausing at the proposed location for the training course. Nearly the entire 214 square miles of the Ranch sprawls out in front of me, a complete view obstructed by the stunning Sangre de Cristos. It's hard to believe they conceal 315 miles of trails, double if roads are accounted for. The fervor and sheer volume of hate and outrage the Ranch has been receiving about the program is staggering. How can so many people form such harsh, uninformed opinions? I chuckle to myself, remembering we don't have the quads yet, nor any information on when the first course will be conducted. Some people must be compelled to hear the sound of their own dissenting voice.
26/100
Conservation is one of the many departments backcountry staff have the pleasure of working with at Philmont. One of the specialty teams involves a group of guys who are solely dedicated to chipping and mulching, this year; Work Crew Whiskey. Armed with mechanized teeth and elbow grease, our destructive quartet has been preparing the ATV course for the last few days. Up just slightly after dawn, they try to work in the limited cool of the morning, returning only for a brief shade and water break during lunch. In the evenings however, they usually join us for dinner, fajita night being no exception. In they walk, clothes reeking of tree sap which thankfully masks the smell of hard manual labor. We share stories and tortillas, reminiscing about prior summers while winged insects bounce off the screen door late into the evening.
27/100
Up until now, we have only had participants pass through our camp during the morning, none have been overnight guests. This is unique to our camp in that we only host campers on their last night in the backcountry. Ten days ago, the first crews hit the trail which means tomorrow our first crews will be asking us where they can set up their tents. I am suddenly reminded of two things. First, I have been at camp entirely too long. Second, I will be leaving my staff, alone, by themselves, for the first time, for three days. I sigh deeply and try not to over-analyze; a walk feels like a great idea. I slip out and slip into my usual rhythm and so does my mind, easing with each step I put between me and the cabin. Another species of cacti appear to be flowering, “escobaria vivipara”, the nature book later reveals, “a wide range of habitats, from Mexico all the way north to Canada“. It is less than two inches wide and sports a brilliant fuchsia flower. If it can thrive, so can I, and so can they.
28/100
I am positively wracked with cabin-fever, but finally, my days off have arrived. I start to boil water for my morning carafe of coffee and begin cleaning the cabin with my staff. They seem quieter than usual, perhaps I am broadcasting my apprehensions on my face. I snarf down my usual peanut-buttered white toast with honey and head down to the main cabin to finish packing and go over some final details with Jimmy, who I am leaving in charge for my first three day leave of absence. We raise the flags, New Mexico's red and yellowbrightly glow in the blinding sun. I remind Jimmy about the fickle water pump and listening to the radio with keen vigilance. I couldn't be more confident he will know what to do with our first crews having worked at several other camps before. I retreat to my room, stuff my sleeping bag, wrangle and secure my camera gear, and apply generous amounts of sunscreen to my extremities. I have us all reconvene at the sundial for a 30 second pep rally. With my emotions set to “convincing/empathetic”, I tell them I know they will do a fantastic job upholding my expectations operating camp; William Wallace would have been proud of my delivery. I strap on my pack and loudly announce my departure to the entire camp. Two other Camp Directors have come to rescue me and we quickly disappear into the dense wilderness; freedom has arrived.
29/100
The plan is to make an expedient detour through base camp, stopping only for cold beverages and a quick trip to the lockers. Less than 15 minutes later, we are back on the road looking for the rocky and dusty turnoff, our lifeline to escape. Our exit arrives and we veer onto a dirt highway, the vehicle's basic suspension bangs and rattles sickeningly. Thankfully, the road ends and we pile out, strapping on boots and packs, disappearing quickly into the wilderness once again. Up and up, switchback after switchback, we climb. My thighs are screaming and the map confirms today's afternoon hike is nearly all uphill. I stumble over another crest, chest heaving and searching for oxygen. I turn my gaze upon the ground and spot a douglas fir seedling seemingly sprouting out of a rock. I chuckle to myself. A little uphill never killed anyone.
30/100
The ascent continues until we triumphantly reach the top of the mesa - a nearly silent victory - our wheezing disturbs the sound of the wind blowing through the grasses. We take a quick breather in the shade to confirm our bearings and ETA for camp this evening; at least another hour of hiking is ahead of us. The grumbling in my stomach reminds me that I need more than only toast for breakfast on hiking days. I take another sip of water and notice a large boulder nestled behind some pines. The smooth yet jutted surface has whorls like truffles, ranging in color from roast chestnut to raw cashew. It dawns on me that I have an “emergency” bag of trail-mix stashed deep in my pack. After a few handfuls we press on, the heat of the day still upon us, thankfully mottled through tall forest limbs. I think about kicking my boots off and lazily swaying on the porch swing and my pace quickens. Or maybe it was the M&M's.
Summer 100: #81-90
After finishing dinner's dishes, I wander out on Cyphers Mine's porch to snag some coffee. Everyone has started to assemble in anticipation for...
Summer 100
Summer 100: #81-90
81/100
After finishing dinner's dishes, I wander out on Cyphers Mine's porch to snag some coffee. Everyone has started to assemble in anticipation for Stomp, an almost historically accurate musical extravaganza, which is sure to entertain. A few staff carrying lanterns and cumbersome instruments head towards the smaller cabin with dozens of people following in tow. I grab a few more cookies before making my way over, eventually finding a decent seat towards the back. With little notice, the ensemble explodes to life, the entire show interrupted only by raucous clapping and laughing from the crowd. I take my unspoken cue during the last song and begin heading back towards the main cabin as to avoid any rush. I turn around to see a mass of headlamps flickering on, illuminating the dense darkness around them. Camper exodus never lasts long.
82/100
Since early morning, heavy clouds have been passing through camp, threatening us with rain. Only in the last half hour has their decision changed, an ever increasing pitter-patter of droplets can be heard on our tin kitchen roof. I finish my dinner and tell my staff to hold off from starting charcoal for our cobbler dutch oven feast while I scout weather conditions. A quick jaunt up to our meadow reveals just how socked in we are— looks like we are making eight cakes tonight. When a Scout has had their expectations set on cobbler for 12 days, cake is severely lacking in culinary appeal. I have had to deliver worse news though, perhaps I'll even get a small slice.
83/100
Obligated from the immediate need to start charcoal, I decide to take advantage of the ominous silence in our secluded meadow. Four more days remain until the second Camp Director meeting; it has been hard to quiet my apprehensions. Tomorrow brings the start of August, my final set of days-off begins the day after. There are so many camps I have neglected to visit. I still need to type up the second half of my report and I have yet to hear back on my application to work during fall. I take a breath, deeply filling my lungs with clean mountain air. I try to feel support from the damp rock on which I sit, and slowly, I return to our meadow. Cake nights are insanity– loud music and teenage boys tweaked on sugar– but there is little else I would rather be doing.
84/100
My staff are confident and comfortable with running camp in my absence and require no input before my departure. I snarf my breakfast, smear on sunscreen, and switch on my earbuds. Seven strenuous miles up the Rayado, my rendezvous point takes me along a familiar route I have hiked countless times before. Famed for a particular section of trail, “the Notch' is a perilous passage through a windy and narrow section of exposed rock. The crossing is barely wider than my arm span and I recall the stories of dynamite and labor it took to carve this mountain. Most people stop to admire the grand vista, but the rocks are more breathtaking today.
85/100
My trail continues upward through dense pine and heavy underbrush. I begin to descend and the scenery no longer feels foreign, a sign my destination is nearing. Radiant afternoon sun bathes the river's banks with warm hues. Swarms of gnats glint in the haze while massive bees buzz back and forth between black-eyed Susans. Trout dart upstream into shadows and crows caw upon my arrival. It would seem as though Mother Nature has granted me quite a welcoming party; I know Fish Camp and its staff will uphold her standards.
86/100
Last night's sleep on Fish Camp's couch has completely refreshed my spirit and aching quads; I feel unstoppable. To bypass starting a fire in the wood-burner, coffee is made with water boiled on a portable backpacking stove, then slowly poured through a paper filter resting precariously on one's cup. A flash from my years spent at other interp camps reminds me that this morning's process is pure novelty. Taking care not to spill, I also grab the book I picked up yesterday and mosey outside, situating myself in 'the ring'– a 4-foot wide suspended metal ring thick enough for one person to comfortably slink against. The weather couldn't be more idyllic, hopefully it holds for our baseball game later this evening. Skimming for my place, I realize I am more than two-thirds complete. Perhaps I can finish before we leave, there isn't any room in my pack for rentals.
87/100
Go-time is here. I cinch my pack and hoist it onto a waiting chair, shift my weight, then my waist. My eyes fall on a small patch of wilting black-eyed Susans; miniature sundials marking the passage of time by their withering petals. I am fully aware today will be my last hiking day this summer–a fruitless notion–but one I cannot move past. We say our farewells and begin to hike, the Rayado deeply hums while trees gently sway with the breeze. I am so very far from finished.
88/100
After showering and scouring off the majority of my last week off, I make my way over to the Villa Philmonte's vast lawn. Softballs thwack into mitts as both sides begin to warm up, voluminous clouds effortlessly drift above our massive green; what a perfect day for a baseball game! I catch an unmistakable scent of hot dogs and popcorn, looks like dinner has been taken care of. Tonight's friendly match determines a “winner” of a two-part baseball series between Backcountry and Ranger leaderships. Our rivalry is comically overstated, but having won the first game, it is apparent the Rangers are hungry for more than just hot dogs.
89/100
I watch as the scoreboard is hoisted into the air, proudly displaying the game's final for all to see; it was a blowout. From the corner of my eye, I catch a water cooler-shaped blur racing towards amassing celebratory yellow shirts. In one swift motion, the entire contents is dumped onto Matt's shoulders as he lurches forward, attempting to avoid the icy torrent. Even though we lost by a fair margin, seeing the opposing team's plush mascot stolen and high-tailed across the Villa lawn into a waiting getaway minivan made for a pretty spectacular seventh-inning stretch. After all, it's all just a game; might as well have some fun.
90/100
Boundless talks about gather during yesterday's meeting has left me feeling drained and restless. Alone in a sea of people, I wander building to building, mind racing, searching for familiar faces. Past staff members manifest momentarily, a mental mirage generated from previous summers. I desperately want to leave basecamp, but the thought of returning to camp tomorrow morning doesn't sit well either. Hopefully I find a friend going into town who wants some lunch. My days are dwindling. I must finish strong.
About the Blog
Justin Kernes is a photographer and writer who thrives in the great outdoors.
From 2010-2017, he worked in the backcountry at Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico.
In 2018 “Tiny Slice” successfully thru-hiked the Pacific Crest Trail.
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Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers day 111, Goat Rocks and my 30th birthday.