Journey Day 110 | PCT Day 110
The Pacific Crest Trail climbed into the Trinity Alps.
8/4/85
Hot breakfast in bed, then onto trail. More climbing to the Trinity Divide, where I take a break. Then down ridge aimed at springs I never find. Settle for spring “immediately below the trail,” according to the guidebook, where I take lunch, update journal, cool feet.
Note: No people since leaving PCT spot yesterday morning. Feels nice, though I’d probably enjoy seeing PCT mates.
Feeling too full from big lunch on variety of items, I start out. Find more springs. Hike short distance, stop for dump. Feeling better, hike on to Porcupine Lake Trail, which I take on the advice of the guidebook. Nice, nice, very nice. Peaceful, almost magical glacial lake. Quick, chilly dip.
Photo myself with some difficulty. Then onward. Passing Toad Lake, see person in rowboat.
Walking ridge around lake, more nice Shasta views. Hear call from behind. It’s Mike, Matt not far behind. His frame’s broken, but they’re pumped up. Set to go to Canada by Oct. 1. Means 20-plus miles near every day over the next two months.
We hike to saddle, high point of the section, take break. I’m saddened to realize I’ll not be hiking the PCT with them again. They were my favorite partners.
Again alone, I hike down ridge. Much down timber, torn landscape from logging. Bad skies, no motivation to push. So stop at Upper Deadfall Lake per book recommendation. Raise tent, do foot and camera maintenance. Serene setting. Cook dinner.
A deer walked through my camp. She was unafraid. We both went about our business. She ate. I looked at nature, particularly as she munched loudly on nearby bushes.
It’s been more than three months now and I truly feel at home out here. Safe and secure, as long as my gear works. And when it doesn’t, I’m now capable of rigging, improvising to get me through.
Situations that would have had me at wit’s end, over the edge probably, now are handled. After all, it’s rarely as bad as it first seems. Nature is part of me. I am part of nature. Animals barely start when I walk by.
It’s been a drunkless trip. I have little interest in getting drunk, but do miss times of alcoholic revelry with dear friends. When Eades twins walked away today, I could have tagged along a little longer. But I’m happy alone and eventually they would have been moving ahead. No sense prolonging when it constantly reminds of the end. Better to just end and go on.
This camp is so calm. If not for remnants of man, such as trash, glass, half burnt foil, it would be a truly natural setting. Pastoral almost. Glaciated ridge with clear lake at its foot.
These things I’m experiencing alone, they’re my own moments saved forever for my individual recollection, unless I impart them to others. Even then, the imprinted memory will always outshine the recollected copy.
