Journey Day 4 | PCT Day 4
Into the Laguna Mountains
4/20/85
Started out early and set a good pace. Before departure, used my staff to wash socks with soap. The chill of Long Canyon Creek and inventiveness exhilarated me, and I felt strong out of camp.
About three miles into the hike, intent on Burnt Rancheria, two women we’d met earlier came upon us and noted my limping from sore inner heels. Their first aid and blister lesson made the day possible. They came to be known as the Blister Angels.
We walked along a nice Desert View with a Sierra Clubber from L.A. who’d burnt out teaching and was studying to be a travel agent. Appearing to be in his 50s, he said he’d managed to retire from teaching. His wife, from Port Clinton, Ohio, went to my alma mater, Bowling Green State University, in the 50s.
We walked through the Laguna Mountains. More people aided us in staying on the trail, including a Sierra bike gang, a foreign couple and a runner with his girlfriend. Stopped at Al Bahr Shrine Camp. Sucked down a Coke I’d been craving for miles, got maximum water and looked in the mirror for the first time in five days. “Good to see ya Buddy!”
Also washed my hands for the first time since starting out. Brushed my teeth twice this morning to break that dry spell in certain fashion.
As we left Al Bahr, the weather got bad. After shooting photos, we walked around a ridge to where the trail split at Pine Valley and Pioneer Flat. Wisely we stopped, raised a tent in the drizzle as clouds covered the ridge.
We were near a paved road, but wind, below-freezing temperatures and rain stopped our serious dinner. Ate my last bread, honey, broth, a vitamin, cheese and tortillas. Doused blisters with rubbing alcohol. My boots let me down!
As I write, rain pelts our tent, wind tests its strength. Must be 30-50 mph gusts and it’s cold. Keith laid down, trying to sleep.
Before stopping we were in high spirits, having hiked well. I felt strong for the first time since the start. My altitude weakness seems to be leaving. Before I sleep, a vivid image of me pounding my staff on the ground as bad weather came up near Al Bahr. I am no longer afraid, almost daring the weather. But I know better. The PCT is not something you conquer. It’s something you survive. Or like a triathlon something you aim to finish.
Sending back
tent (without fly)
jeans
wool shirt
almanac
telephoto lens?
extra flashlight
