Two months! I have not posted in two months! Not since Tuolumne Meadows! And now I am sitting at my friend Dave's house in Portland, where I will be leading a backpacking trip for Reed College starting tomorrow morning. Yes, that's right, I got off the Pacific Crest Trail to lead a backpacking trip. Everyone seems to find that amusing. The timing just worked out so perfectly and I enjoy leading Reedies into the wilderness so much that it was awfully hard to say no. Also, the money I will make by leading nine freshmen and two upperclassmen student leaders into the Mt. Adams Wilderness will pay for all of my resupplies in Washington. Nice!

So, the last two months were intense and long. Goodall and I made it through the Sierras tired but mostly intact. Her parents met us again at Sonora Pass and gave us a tasty dinner and took the unwieldy bear canisters away (far far away). Then, we entered what must have been the birthplace of the primal mosquitos, as they were there both in force and ferocity. Entire flocks hunted us for days. Headnets and DEET not optional.

Finally, we entered Northern California where we enjoyed many days of temperatures near 100 degrees Fahrenheit and plenty of volcanic rocks through old, shadeless burn areas. Northern California had more than its fair share of unpleasant days. Upon finishing the 30+ dry stretch that is Hat Creek Rim, I remember looking at two fellow hikers, Lotus and Hermes, and we all just looked spent. Shortly after, near Burney Falls, I got my worst blister of the entire trip. The intense heat combined with volcanic rock caused a large blister to form underneath the callous on the ball of my left foot. Was hardly able to walk for two days. And then my iPhone got stolen while at Castella, which had me psychologically break down for an hour (maps, notes, music, photos, videos...buh-bye) and then heading into Mt. Shasta, where I charmed my way into getting a brand new phone that afternoon and at a reduced cost.

There were really good days too though. In Sierra City, nearly everyone took at least one zero and I got to catch up with many old hiking friends. In Seiad City, Goodall and I spent the night with two Reed alums who lived just down the road in Happy Valley; enjoyed a quiet night with showers, laundry, a home cooked meal, and comfy beds. And let's not forget that sunset near Mt. Shasta where the sky came alive with mind bogglingly layers of clouds and color.

Near the Oregon border, we had our first taste of forest fires and their smoke. A lightning storm a few days prior had started at least four fires in Oregon and their smoke drifted down into California. During the long climb out of Seiad Valley, you could hardly see the hillside a couple hundred meters across from you. Once in Oregon, Ashland and Medford had such bad smoke that the outdoor plays were canceled.

Near Crater Lake, I got my first taste of Oregon weather schizophrenia. Not sure what it is, but whenever I am on the Pacific Crest Trail during August in Oregon, I always seem to have first forest fires and then chilling rain. Naturally, I had not checked the weather before leaving Ashland and had forwarded my rain pants on. Thankfully I kept my Smartwool beanie as there were a couple wet days followed by chilly nights. Yet, somehow, we carried on.

Right around the Three Sisters Wilderness, Oregon became absolutely gorgeous. Cookie and I dry camped shortly before Obsidian Creek and enjoyed a lovely sunset and sunrise to the west of Middle Sister. Sadly, the next day had us hiking through at least five miles total of volcanic rock near McKenzie Pass followed by a long, will-sucking burn area. I am ever so glad I changed my plans and took a night off in Sisters. Gave me a chance to catch up with a former coworker, eat good food, and just relax before the final push to Timberline Lodge.

Thanks to the Burney Falls Blister (say that three times fast), I was a couple days behind schedule in getting to Ashland. Originally my plan was to head off into Portland from Cascade Locks on the 21st. No way I was going to make that without risking an injury. So, since I was mostly hiking alone through Oregon, I was able to pull off a half dozen 30s and get to Timberline Lodge on the afternoon of the 20th. And that is where Dave, De'Mel, and Brian joined me for a tall glass of stout, a joyful ride back to Portland, dinner at Nicolas, and a night of Scotch tasting.

For the following night Dave and I had organized a pie party, where I ate savory and sweet pies of numerous varieties while showing photos from the trip on the TV and talking myself a bit hoarse. While at time a social malcontent with introvert tendencies, I loved seeing all of my Portland friends for the night. Felt good. Joyful, even.

Which catches us up to today. All of the gear is ready and in about an hour I will meet the nine freshmen that I will be taking out starting tomorrow morning. Relatively easy trip with no more than 6 miles between camps but it does seem like we will have cool temperatures with a chance of rain. Oh, Pacific Northwest, you so crazy.

Upon my return I will take at least one more day in Portland, if not two, and organize my resupply, see a few more people, and relax. And then back up to Timberline Lodge for four more weeks of hiking up to the Canadian border. Woo hoo!

The phrase "Hike Your Own Hike" is thrown around regularly by hikers as a reflexive catchphrase meant to suggest that everyone's hike is their own and despite any differences we may have between our approaches to hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, my way does not affect you and your way does not affect me. Not so subtly, it is also used by hikers to disregard the opinions and approaches of others. Sort of a low key "fuck you" when there is a strong disagreement but a desire to avoid conflict.

While I would not consider myself a PCT purist, where detours are not allowed and every single mile of the the trail must be covered by my footsteps, I am troubled by people who are calling themselves thru-hikers when they are most assuredly not by any definition I can accept.

The reason this is on my mind so much (and worth a blog entry) is because during the second week, multiple hikers skipped straight from Paradise Cafe to Idylwild. One of my favorite sections of the early trail and they skipped all 28 miles of it. Not because they were injured but simply because they heard it was difficult and/or were behind schedule because of a slow start. And yet, they still referred to themselves as thru-hikers.

And this has continued for the entirety of the trail. People skipped all the way from Walker Pass to Kennedy Meadows (50+ miles) because they were exhausted from the desert and wanted a long, comfortable break before entering the Sierras. I understand that exhaustion, believe me I do, but once you start skipping huge sections like that you are no longer a thru-hiker in my book. Being a thru-hiker to me means experiencing every bit of the Pacific Crest Trail: the highs, the lows, the joys, the challenges, the crummy weather, the gorgeous views. All of it. Saying you thru-hiked the Pacific Crest Trail means something very significant to me.

Slack packing. I am still on the fence about this. This is when a hiker gets dropped off at a road with a super light pack, usually only containing food and water, and they quickly hike to another road where they are picked up again. Typically, they then go back to a town or campsite for the night. So, they are not really backpacking so much as day hiking sections of the trail. People have been doing this from the beginning and while they are technically hiking the trail, it still makes me a bit uneasy. I suspect this is no so much a foul of thru-hiking as me having a belief that the trail should always be "backpacked" and not just "hiked". Personal preference, especially when you consider all the ways of resupplying, going ultralight, and having friends/family support you.

Which leads me to my own definition of thru-hiking and how I, myself, intend to hike the entirety of the Pacific Crest Trail. Quite simply, all of my footsteps have to connect from the Southern Terminus to the Northern Terminus of the PCT. I can be picked up by a vehicle but I have to be dropped off at the same spot when I return to the trail. My backpack will always be with me too. If thru-hiking the Pacific Crest Trail is my entire life than it should be along for the entire time. The one exception I will allow is for official detours (fire, poodle dog). Safety, sanity, and responsible behavior take priority.

Been quite a long while since I posted a blog entry. While the trail has challenges when it comes to water and food, it is nothing compared to the inability to reliably connect to the internet. First World Problems, I know.

I am currently in Mammoth Lakes, California sharing a condo with nine other hikers for a couple days. We just exited the High Sierras and are only two days away from Tuolumne Meadows (and Yosemite). The past few weeks has been a collection of exhausting 6-7 day trips between resupply points. Tehachapi to Kennedy Meadows to Independence to Mammoth. For that entire time, I probably had cell service for only four days and even then it was not always reliable.

Kennedy Meadows had an internet "cafe", which was really no more than a few poorly working Dell computers in a trailer connected via satellite. It was fine for checking email, but I lost two separate blog entries when the connection was lost or the computer ceased to function.

Independence was a teeny tiny little town, and we hitched to Bishop as soon as we got a Subway sandwich and Amelia's packages from the post office. The Bishop library had computers but they were locked down and were using an ancient version of Internet Explorer that even Gmail did not support. No chance to upgrade, so I abandoned my quest and decided to wait another week.

So, here we are nearly a month later. Still got a bit more of Sierras to go, but Amelia's parents are meeting us at Tuolumne Meadows and my computer will be there. Photos! Videos! Blog Entries! But only if we find good wi-fi. Here's hoping.

Thinking about this question, what first comes to mind is what I do not miss. The noise of civilization comes to mind first. I have taken longish backcountry trips before and when I returned to Portland, the cars whizzing by on 39th Avenue had me on edge for over a week before I acclimated to city life again. Now after being on the PCT for over a month, being in something as simple as a remote town with a small grocery store with all of the music, talking, and the noise that humans create is slightly unsettling.

Showers and beds are odd now too. I am staying with the Boyink family this weekend and even though I could easily sleep in their RV, I feel far more comfortable sleeping outside, under the stars, with a bit of wind. And, I feel no compulsion to take a shower every day or even every other day. I am hardly getting dirty sitting around eating, talking, and reading books. Why would I need to shower? Showers are now meant for when you need to wash off the grime after days on the trail and be presentable.

I definitely daydream about reading material and food on the trail. The ability to eat the wide assortment of foods in an American grocery store is truly a wonder when you think about it. Ice cream, cinnamon rolls, pumpkin pie, stir fry, salads, et cetera. All sound really good when I get into town. And, I have now finished seven books on this trip. Every town stop has me tossing one book into the Hiker Box and looking for a new one (or two) for the next section.

The cool weather of the Pacific Northwest combined with my old, glorious apartment has been on my mind during the bad days too. While crossing the Mojave desert, I had at least a litre and a half of water throughout the night and still woke up dehydrated. The hot, arid weather does not agree with me. Being able to watch a windy, wet storm go on outside while watching Doctor Who and eating pie often sounds like bliss.

What I really miss most though, is friendly, relaxed company. The trail is stressful. It is all too often empty and even a bit lonely. There have been a handful of days when I see no one until the end of the day and at least a third of my nights have been spent camping alone. Despite all of my introverted and asocial tendencies, I do crave human companionship on a semi-regular basis. Part of this trip's learning experience is being forced to examine how isolated I have made my non-trail daily life and how going further down that path is unenjoyable in the long term.

The examination of how to balance my need to be alone, do challenging adventures, and my desire for human company is ongoing. Many more months to think about it.

UPDATE: OK, so let's get one thing straight. While I do not really miss showers on a daily basis, after five or six days of hiking I greatly enjoy washing the grime off both myself and my clothes.

You know what they say.
Some things in life are bad,
They can really make you mad.
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle,
Don't grumble, give a whistle!
And this'll help things turn out for the best...

That's a lie, Mr. Idle. A damn damn dirty lie.

Bad days happen on the trail, there is no way around it. And, it is incredible how just one slip in judgment or a seemingly minuscule event can cause an otherwise normal day to tailspin into a fantastically wretched day. I was extremely lucky in that my first four weeks on the trail I only had one bad day. Too much sun, an unsettled stomach, and a poor night's sleep sapped my energy so that I felt thrashed from the moment I woke up. The entire day consisted in nothing but forcing myself to take steps and wishing for it to be over.

This last week had three bad days in quick succession. It all started after Agua Dulce. Epsom salt foot baths were available at Hiker Heaven and since my heel calluses seemed a bit overgrown, I indulged in one to soften them up a bit (such a horrible idea in retrospect). Foolishly, I never washed my feet off afterward to clear off the salt. The next day, after a poor night of sleep, I started off at 5 a.m. to beat the heat as the trail started with about five miles of road walking. By the time I got back on a proper trail, my feet had lost a couple layers of skin in key places. That was just the beginning.

Even with clean socks, blister pads, and duct tape the hot spots got worse, especially on my heels. There was little shade once the sun rose and my whole body slowly roasted until I stumbled into the fire station just up from the Anderson's (trail angels at Casa de Luna). I was definitely not the only hiker who was suffering from foot problems either, thanks to the heat baking both the ground and our bodies. Five of the six hikers I met while resting at the fire station reported that their feet had become messed up over the course of the day.

Still, after resting for three or four hours and cleaning all feet and socks, I continued on to the next water cache. That was a bit of foolish of me. I did not need to continue on and my feet could have used a longer recovery period. But it was early still. I wanted to stick with and camp with people I knew. So, I kept on going. ::sigh::

By the time I camped my feet had graduated from possibly problematic to a complete mess. I had also lost my brand new book (left behind during a break), cut my hand while getting off trail for a bathroom break, and was all around miserable from mile dehydration and miles of constant descent. If a genie had appeared and offered to whisk me back to my old, lovely apartment in Port Townsend with a fresh episode of Doctor Who waiting...doubt I would have said no.

To make a long story short, despite trying to baby my feet and not push too hard, I had a limited supply of food and a desert to cross until my next resupply. The next few days of hiking were not pleasant at all, especially since I forgot my second pair of socks drying on a fence and my backup socks were given to a desperate friend a few days before. Feeling the searing hot pain of a blister popping? One of the most demoralizing experiences a hiker can feel. Combine it with the usual trail trials and every additional minor problem just compounded my mental and physical fatigue. Only will power kept me from just collapsing in a heap yesterday.

All of which reinforces the fact that thru-hikers are a stubborn lot. It takes a special combination of foolishness, insanity, and mental resiliency to willfully subject your body and mind to a thru-hike. Yet, hikers do have ways of responding to the stress and handling those really bad days.

I have seen an older gentleman on a rather steep bit of remote trail with hardly a rock to sit on calling his wife just to hear a kind voice during a particularly difficult stretch. A hiker couple just barely leaning into each other during a snack break to feel that small bit of support. Hiker camaraderie and bitching sessions are quite common at the end of the day and during long breaks. Vacant stares into the distance and crying happen too. During the Mojave desert crossing at one point three of just dead dropped our packs, flopped on the ground, and did not say anything for two or three minutes while we ate food and collected ourselves.

My primary way of dealing with the grind is sharing my experiences and photos on Twitter and Facebook almost daily. The desert is photogenic and heart-stopping beautiful at times, despite the heat. And a Don Quixote reference while crossing a wind turbine farm in the early morning has most definitely not gone unused. That bit of humor and sharing with friends around the world is what kept me going during those bad days. And remembering the fact that I genuinely enjoy sharing the outdoors with other people is not a bad thought either.

A somewhat common belief about long distance hiking is that you will have plenty of time to think. Figure out your troubles, work through problems, and contemplate deep thoughts. As I have a tedious tendency to obsessively think as it is, I think there was a reasonable belief that an abundance of trail thinking would drive me a bit over the edge.

Shockingly this has not been the case. In fact, thinking while hiking has been rather difficult. Despite the trail being graded for horses and there being an organization behind its upkeep, traipsing along it requires a certain amount of concentration. Rocks, roots, cliff edges, poison oak, poodle dog bush, stream crossings, et cetera. Throw in a pack that is averaging 28 pounds, two hiking poles to manage, and days of 20+ miles...and you have a recipe for a consistent need to focus.

At the end of the day you are usually so tired, you simply want food, bed, and maybe a bit of relaxation, which for hikers seems to be either smoking, drinking, TV watching, or for a select few it is reading a book. I just finished my fifth book and have spent an entire town afternoon in the library, so I think we know what camp I belong to.

Yet, saying all that, I have had time to think. Had an entire afternoon where I had Taylor Swift's "22" in my head on repeat (damn catchy song). Spent an hour outside the grocery store in Wrightwood talking to a local pediatrician about the trail, my wavering desire to pursue some manner of career in medicine, and his own experience combined with that of two of his children (end all: he strongly encouraged me to go back and finish pre-med).

Also have thought quite a bit about what I want out of the rest of my life. Reviewing in my head what I have been most proud of in my life, what I regret the most, the principles I still hold, and how it all might fit together into at least a direction, if not a firm goal.

Nothing firm yet, but it has been interesting to see what has come to light. A regret I did not realize was so potent has reared its head and a principle I used to strongly hold to has lost quite a bit of its steam. And I am not even past the one month of hiking mark. Could be fun seeing what else slides/pops/wiggles into my consciousness on the trail.

Mile 454.5 is in a little town known as Agua Dulce. The main "strip" is a grocery store, a few restaurants, a bakery, and a liquor store. However, if you take a left right after the bakery and go a mile you arrive at Hiker Heaven, run by the Saufleys.

Every single hiker stops here for at least a night it seems. They will accept packages, provide free showers and laundry, there are cots for sleeping, a kitchen for cooking, daily trips to REI, and all manner of places to sit and relax by yourself or socialize with other hikers. Oh, and as this entry can attest there is internet access thanks to six computers. It really is heaven for people who have just hiked through a hundred miles of hot desert full of poodle dog bush, rattlesnakes, sweaty ascents, and knee busting descents.

I timed it so I arrived here this morning around 9:30 a.m. giving me ample time to shower, sit around and relax while my laundry was being done, and generally just be a lazy bum reading a book. Then I biked into Agua Dulce for lunch and an investigation of the shopping opportunities for food. Thanks to the Hiker Heaven's hiker box and a care package from Mrs. MJ Lohrenz, I am pretty well set for breakfast already. And since I yogi'ed dinner last night, I still have two dinners in my food bag. Pretty easy and cheap resupply here.

After that, I moseyed back to Hiker's Heaven to read a bit more and made plans to have pizza with a group of fellow hikers. Completely stuffed right now after splitting a 14" veggie pizza with No. 2. Which is good since after showering I weighed myself and it seems I am down to a lovely 172 pounds. Of course, I started at 181 pounds, so I can only assume I was overweight when I started. Yup. That must be it.

This entry is sort of rambling. But, my overall point is that this seems to be the pattern to life on the trail. Days of hard miles that can really kick your ass, exhaust you, and make you question why a sane person would be out here doing this...and then a day in a town or at a trail angel's abode where you recover and indulge in every single tempting morsel you can find. Rinse, repeat, keep on hiking.

When I started this trip, I had very little confidence that I would finish it. Honestly, when I was boarding the flight from Bellingham to San Diego, I admitted I thought I would be back within the week. Might be surprising to hear that if you understand how much planning and preparation when into this five month backpacking trip. With my knees and ankles all having been well used and abused for the past 30+ years, I thought it unlikely they would stand up to an average of 20 miles a day, for days upon days upon days, especially with not enough calories, water, or rest.

And yet, here we are. Over three weeks in and fast approaching an entire month on the trail. Statistically this means I am extremely likely to finish the entire Pacific Crest Trail this year. Blows my mind a bit. Not only that, I seem to be doing significantly better health-wise than the average thru-hiker. Still, there have been issues.

My right knee (the one that had surgery last year and required 6 months of physical therapy just to get me on a bike again) has exceeded every expectation. There was a little soreness initially and it will never quite bend smoothly again thanks to the defect in my cartilage and the tendon scar tissue, but the damn thing has never had a single bad day. Let us hope this continues.

My left knee had an elastic knee brace on it for the first two weeks because I strained it the week before starting the trail while moving out of the apartment. However, that brace came off completely a few days ago and it survived without pain for over 50 miles. Yesterday it developed a tiny amount of pain again, so I think the brace will go back on for the next couple weeks with occasional breaks. Still, so far so good.

The legs are otherwise fine. Every thru-hiker has what we call the "hiker walk" in the first week. Sort of a cowboy stance hobble and the inability to walk in a straight line without a pack on. Your body is adjusting to the miles and the muscles are not pleased with the unending toil. Eventually they adapt and you only have that hobble after really hard days.

The feet. I have only met a single hiker who has not had foot issues. There was a girl with 15 blisters, mostly between her toes. Mudd had a blister about three inches long straight down the ball of his foot to his arch. It looked horrific and when he drained it, he could not walk another mile. But my feet are doing reasonably well. One blister the first week that was at the crease of the big toe and a few decent ones on my heels since then. Nothing that has not been manageable with a bit of duct tape and some blister pads. I can definitely see that my skin is becoming thicker and tougher with the miles. If I continue treating them well (change socks, air feet, protect hot spots), I am hoping in another couple weeks hot spots and blisters will be a memory.

Otherwise, the body seems healthy. Definitely have lost a bit of weight. I suspect in the 5-7 pounds range. Muscles in my chest are getting little to no exercise, so my skinny thru-hiker physique is coming along splendidly. Long, muscular hiking legs and strong shoulders from the pack and poles. Will likely be rubbish at biking, climbing, and swimming when I finish though. Sacrifices must be made in the name of adventure.

Despite having rather speedy 4G access in most towns, I have been finding it extremely difficult to write anything on the iPhone. Simply is not a big enough screen with the keyboard to make writing enjoyable. One of those times when I wonder how an iPad Mini would hold up. For the most part, I am writing these blog posts whenever I get to a town that has a library. Alas, library internet is not overly fast and all the computers are using an old version of Internet Explorer by default. So, I have been downloading Chrome to make the whole writing situation more palatable. That takes a while with the connection speed and then in no time my time is up. Thus, these entries are written quickly and with very little proof reading. Anyhoo...here are a few updates regarding the gear I have been using.

Tarptent Contrail.

With such a lightweight and seemingly easy setup, I really thought I would love this tent for my first attempts at both doing a thru-hike and going ultralight. Alas, no. The desert regions have had rather strong winds and at times difficult ground (too hard, too sandy). Since the tent is not freestanding, it has been extremely difficult making it robust enough to survive a night of high winds. At Whitewater Creek, when the front containing a thunderstorm started coming in, my tent collapsed twice, despite staking it AND using a copious amount of rocks to reinforce the stakes. When you stop wanting to set up your tent at all and just cowboy camp every night, that is a problem. So, I threw in the towel and have ordered a new tent, Big Agnes Copper Spur UL1, from REI. It is a bit heavier, but it is freestanding and has been praised by other hikers on the trail.

Brooks Cascadia 8 Shoes.

Love these shoes. When I was testing shoes prior to the hiker, I always seemed to get sore feet after 8 or 10 miles. Not with these. I have done a 28 mile day in the desert heat and my feet were not sore afterwards. They may not be able to survive as much punishment as more dedicated hiking shoes though. Around mile 340, I noticed that the tread was loose and there were tiny holes where the end of my pinky toe ends. Thankfully, at Cajon Junction, a fellow hiker, Dingo, rented a car and we took a trip to REI (two hour trip because of a brush fire that closed the interstate and caused a massive traffic snarl).

REI, to their credit, replaced the shoes but with a stern look and voice informing me that these shoes were not meant for this manner of activity. We shall see if this pair survives the next 300-500 miles or if the PCT abuses it too much. Even if I have to replace them every 350 miles, I think I will stick with them, they are simply too light and comfortable.

Gossamer Gear Mariposa Backpack.

Solid. Light, perfect size, and so far standing up to the abuse. I have put one hole into its big mesh pocket, but that was a sharp trekking pole. One of the hip pouch zippers seems to be coming loose, but I think I can fix that up without any problem. The removal sit pad is genius. I had my doubts, but I use it multiple times a day.

ZPacks 900 Fill Power Down, 20 degree Sleeping Bag.

This one is tough. While up at Coon Creek Cabin, at over 8000 feet, the temperature dropped to at least 15 degrees Fahrenheit. I was perfectly cozy in this bag with my long underwear on and a hat. However, on those nights when the desert only cools to a balmy 58 degrees Fahrenheit, this bag is much much too warm. After hiking 20+ miles and eating a solid dinner, my legs seem to radiate ungodly amounts of heat. I have taken to putting on my sleeping clothes and using the sleeping bag as a blanket only for my top. This is not really the fault of the bag, but I do miss having a full length zipper so I can better free my legs to the night air while keeping my torso comfortable.

Sawyer Squeeze Water Filter.

This filter works well. It works really well. Having seen how much people love the inline Sawyer filter for their CamelBaks is having me contemplating a switch. It only takes probably 5-7 minutes to make all the water I will need for a long stretch, but it is not as convenient as simply being able to empty the water into your hydration bladder and go. No worries, virtually no effort. Hard to not desire that a bit. The REI we went to from Cajon Junction did not have the inline adapter in stock, but if I see it later on I might impulse buy it.

KEEN Socks.

More details about this will come a bit later. The Smartwool socks I started with did not survive much past two weeks; holes in the heels. The KEEN socks arrived 10 days in and 16 days in. They seem to be surviving, but thinning a bit in the heels and balls of my feet. We shall see how they survive the next two weeks.

Everything Else.

Those are the major items. Will have more likely later, but otherwise by gear is living up perfectly to my expectations. Two things I seem to be constantly low on is duct tape and blister bandaids. Even with airing out of my feet a few times a day and changing into dry (and maybe recently rinsed) socks, I seem to develop a hot spot or blister every few days. My feet are slowly recovering/thickening but the desert is a harsh mistress.

I am sure this comes as surprise to no one who has ever done any manner of outdoor activity with me, but I am both rather speedy and impatient. Prone to hours of intensive activity with single minded determinism. The distance from Idyllwild (Saddle Junction) to Big Bear (Highway 18) is 89.2 miles when you tack on the hike up the Devil's Slide trail from Idyllwild. Originally I had planned to do it in a bit over 5 days because of the elevation profile. Took me less than 4 days.

Works out to a little over 22 miles a day. One of those days was a 25 miler. That day started with a good plan of only doing 19 miles, but I reached that point around 2:30 in the afternoon. What do you do with yourself when your normal trail bed time is not for another 6.5 hours? So, I made a meal, got water, relaxed a bit, and then did six more miles to the Coon Creek Cabin Group Campground, where I spent a rather chilly night with a group of 10 other hikers in an open cabin. The next day was only 20 miles to the Highway 18 hitch into Big Bear, so even with a late start because of the 15 degree temperatures, I made it there by 2:30 p.m. again.

Think about that. You are out on a trail and you can do 20 miles irregardless of 5000-7000 foot climbs or descents before it is even 3pm. And you can easily go a day without seeing another soul, which does not help. One can only read so many books and admire so many beautiful clouds or gallant peaks before you simply want to keep on going. The trail is not getting any shorter. Keep hiking.

Of course, the consequence is that while you can pull off 25 mile days, you are still in your first few weeks and could easily push too hard. Also, you are leaving behind all those you started with or met along the way. I greatly enjoyed and bonded well with the group I met at Scout and Frodo's. Naturally, I would not mind seeing Amelia too. Even for an introvert like myself, it is really helpful to socialize a bit, have an unobtrusive conversation, even if it is just about the next day's challenge or how long to stop at a Trail Angel's rest area.

So, I reached Big Bear two days ahead of schedule. If I keep this pace up, I will reach Kennedy Meadows by the end of May, despite not really planning on being there until June 5th at the earliest. There is really no reason to rush. Despite the low snow year, there is still snow up in those high passes. My pace is my pace though. I have always had a hard time reining myself in without someone around to give me a reason.

Currently, I am taking my second zero mileage day in Big Bear and just had a second breakfast with three people I started with who just arrived in town. I suspect Amelia will reach the hostel this afternoon. Town days are expensive though. The Big Bear Lake hostel gives discounts for consecutive night stays but once you throw in food, it is costing me around $35 -$40 a day to stay in town.

::imagine Paul using his hands to indicate balancing scales::

A great balance exists between mileage, exhaustion, boredom, loneliness, socializing, productivity, and costs with the Pacific Crest Trail. Still working it all out. The trail is hard on your mind as well as your body, and while I had my suspicions about how strongly the contents of my own mind would weigh me down and cause struggle, it is hard to prepare for.