Journey Day 42 | PCT Day 42

5/28/85

We awaken (actually Keith jars me from a deep sleep) and we pack quickly.  A sheep herd has gotten very close to where we crashed last night. They seem about to overrun our campsite, their pasture. We'll never know if the sheepherder intentionally brought the pack our way.

Depressing, hot hike seems to take forever. We finally find 140th, then Rosamond. Eventually we struggle to the Flying Witch Ranch, where Cuckoo Grandma, Nancy Davidson, and a barking curr, Tasha, greet us with iced tea. Tasha just stopped barking when Gwen and Ken show up.

Again Tasha, then mellowness in the shade. 102 degrees on my pack thermometer while we were hiking. Keith reads 118 degrees from the ground next to our retreat.

This stop is not quite so cordial. Apparently horse hikers were out of line. Tasha's barking upsets Cuckoo Grandma. Her treatment through such a rough section is beyond the line of duty. They seem to enjoy helping, not always common in civilization. Finally Tasha mellows again after she and Keith play ball. All is mellow as we wait out the heat.

Thoughts move ahead to Kennedy Meadows, away from thoughts of more desert hiking. The Sierras will be the ultimate test. At this juncture, all tests have been passed to one extent or another. Pain, physical hurts no longer stop us, though they persist, new ones replacing old standards.

Mental toiling at times a test, but tick overloads, sheep awakening just make for another tricky PCT day. Now it comes down to wanting to do it badly enough, to continue through boring or worse sections. Spending $ while none are coming in.

We've had no showers since Malibu. Mojave stop will be last chance until after the Sierras, unless this goes badly. Hardly feels bad, dirt no longer bothersome.

After my second freeze-dried dinner of the day, Keith and I depart the Flying Witch Ranch. 12 miles of night walking to a road leading to Mojave. We crash.

Night walking is exhilarating. It produces less sweat and the excitement of the unknown.