Big Stump Hike March 29, 2017

Holy crap. Today has been a damn good day for me planning a 2018 PCT thru hike. I've been afraid that my knee and back pains would be dream killers; that they'd prevent me from even attempting any backpacking trips I want to do; much less the PCT. (And they came so soon after the moment about a year ago when I realized, "Hey; wow.  I could hike the Pacific Crest Trail now...."  More on that moment in another post.)

Ok, so I decided to hike today after all.  I took some ibuprofen at noon, ate a small-ish breakfast, and hopped into the shower.  In the shower, I talked myself out of going.

"What if you hurt your knee further?"
"What if there's too much snow?"
"What if your back hurts?"

And then I started thinking about what I would do around the house if I didn't go. How disappointing that would be. How boring it would be.

So, as is usually the case for me, deciding not to go, gets me out the door all that much faster. I got dressed, wrote the earlier short post and headed up.

First thing was this mound of snow.

Mound of snow "blocking" trail.  Boo...

A little discouraging. I walked up and over it and looked at the trail anyway and it seemed fine. I loaded up my day pack, started the GPS on my phone, started a "hike" on FitBit, grabbed my trekking poles, and headed out.

Some snow. Way back there.

The lack of snow was nice!

The going was slow, I had to consciously think to myself, "Slow down." I slipped once or twice with my left knee on the snow and that caused a short stab of pain but it went away quickly.

Selfies? Never!

Got to the part of the trail I expected to make it to; a small meadow with a fallen sequoia.

Shattered Giant

Upstream of the Shattered Giant

Slightly less upstream

I crossed the Shattered Giant and headed on.  I knew there was a trail around the other side of the meadow and figured I'd decide if I'd turn back or keep going once I got to the trail junction.

Doesn't look much like a meadow

I felt pretty good at the junction so I continued on to Mark Twain Stump.

Mark Twain Stump

And that was my hoped-for goal. That I'd be physically able to make it to this spot. I did. And that's when I realized, if I take a hike slowly, carefully, deliberately, I can still hike.

I continued on the loop for a short while, crossing 180 and heading on the back-end of the loop to my truck.

But, the trail on the other side of 180 was not well traveled and covered in snow. I was slipping more than I cared to on the snow. I couldn't navigate with my phone, use the trekking poles, and watch my step all at the same time. So I turned around and went back the way I came.

Took a couple of pictures from the other end of the Shattered Giant meadow.

OMG! It's a tree!

Same stand. Panorama'd!

It'll be green and growing and flowering soon. I promise.

And then I made it back to the truck. I had to stop and rest some more when my left knee started to hurt again. And I used the poles to help take some weight off of my knee.

Got in the truck and then headed home.  On the way, I found a waterfall along the highway I didn't know existed.

Zoom in? That's crazy talk!

After I got home and rested for a bit, I took a walk up and down the driveway here at home (about .22 miles round trip). I was walking back, and I saw the sun set over the Central Valley through the oak trees on either side of our driveway; I started crying. I realized I can still go see the sun rise from the mountain tops. I can still go watch the sun set every day and watch it rise every morning all summer long.  I cried to myself over and over, "I can do it. I can do it. I can do it."  It wasn't a mantra of reassurance and self reliance. It was the absolutely joyous realization that my dream is not dead.

My hike will probably be slower than I would like but it will be my hike.

Today's hike was short, flat, and slow (1.7 miles in about 90 minutes) but I didn't experience any overly painful knee problem nor back issues. I know I can do the PCT.  I can still hike. I can continue the dream. I can do it.

I'm experiencing the same tearful jubilation as that moment last year when I realized I could hike the PCT.

Also, I realized today that hiking on a ton of snow (probably) just isn't gonna be my thing. But, I learned that my boots are reasonably waterproof. That woolen socks help keep my feet warm even when wet. And that fording streams isn't something awful to fear. (Creeks and rivers, well, we'll see about those.)

All in all, a damn good fucking day today.

Scared of a little hike

I'm heading out very soon (like in 20 minutes) for my first actual hike since my knee injury last autumn.  I'm scared.  I'm scared of injuring my knee further and becoming more discouraged again. I'm scared of hurting my back since it's been really sore for about the last month and is now starting to feel better.

But, I also hope to be encouraged by the lack of those things. I'm encouraged to think that, "Hey!  I'm on the trail again!!! My knee isn't gonna stop me from the PCT!!!"

I'm taking a relatively short, relatively flat hike. Should be a breeze. (But I'm afraid that it won't be.)

It's a beautiful day up in the Sierras right now and no chance of precip.  It's a good day to go.  Pictures to come.

Why? (Part 2)

I've realized another reason to hike the PCT: To let go of the lingering anxiety of selling the business I had with my partner.

First off, I'm fucking damn happy to not have the hourly and daily and weekly and monthly and quarterly and annual stresses that come from owning and running a bar. I used to watch shows like "Kitchen Nightmares" and "Bar Rescue" in my spare time; a bit like the Bus Driver's Holiday. After selling the bar, I couldn't watch them anymore; too much anxiety from a business I was no longer in. Yesterday, I turned on an episode of "Kitchen Nightmares" just to see if I could stomach it now. It was fine; no stress, but in the about 5 minutes I watched (an owner fired an employee for, well, being a shit) I was struck by how much I just do not miss that bullshit. So, I'm glad we don't have that anymore.

Still, every time I see a Facebook post from the person we sold the bar to or a post about the new bar, I have negative feelings. I try to not care about what the guy who bought it does with it. (Currently, he's started illegally serving food.) But I still have to fight the desire to bring it down.

(Ok, some background. We were not treated very fairly by the buyer. We made concessions that we just didn't have to, but thought we'd treat him the way we'd want to be treated. He did not do the same, in our opinion.)

Maybe on the long hike--rather, the series of consecutive day hikes--I can try to let go some or all of those negative feelings and really be able to say that I don't care what he does with the place.

Why?

My brother gave me a book for Christmas this last year. Pacific Crest Trials. It very strongly suggests making a couple of lists before even heading out to take the first step.

This is the first of these lists: Why Am I Hiking the Pacific Crest Trail.

I'll keep a copy of this with me so I can refer back to it when the "Why the fuck and I doing this!?" question rises in my mind. And it will.

• Because I finally can. Finally, I have the time, energy, money, and inclination to set out and do this trail.
  
  I've seen the thin red (and occasionally black) line labeled "Pacific Crest Trail" on topographic maps for literally decades. I followed it on the map kinda wishing I could. ("Oh, look! It goes through Devil's Postpile!" "Oh, right through Lassen, too!") I never thought that I could do it though I wanted to for a very long time.
• To become a little more spontaneous. The first part of my hike is pretty decently planned out. I kinda have an idea of where I might camp each night for the first 3 weeks. I kinda know where I can get water. I kinda know where I'll get food.
  
  Not everything needs to be planned out in advance.
  
  Ages ago, I saw "Into the Wild" and was brought to tears from longing to do what that guy did. (Stopping well short of the tragic end, mind you.) I've always--always--wanted, needed a plan. I've pretty much always thought plans are necessary. Intellectually, I know they aren't but I've never been able to tear myself away from wanting to always know what's going to happen. (Yeah, I know that's pretty impossible to know what's going to happen.)
• To do something remarkably simple and remarkably hard
• To live with less.
• To live freely and simply.  (Wake up, eat, pack, walk, eat, walk, camp, eat, sleep. Repeat.)
• To see things very few people (relative to everybody in the world) get to see.
• To exercise more. A lot more.
• To eat candy. A lot. (Mmmm....  Snickers.....)
  
• Surprisingly, to learn to rely on others. (Gonna have to do a lot of hitch-hiking.)
  
• To look out from the High Sierra and see vast expanses below me.
• To step outside my comfort zone.
• To expand my comfort zone.
• To have stories to tell.
• To be in the wilderness.
• To be by myself.

"Wild" and Cheryl Strayed

This part gets a little weird for Pacific Crest Trail thru hikers.  The communities I'm finding have, well, less than flattering things to say about people who want to hike the PCT after reading/watching "Wild".  Briefly, it's an Oprah book club selection written by Cheryl Strayed about her hike on the PCT back in the late 1990s.  Pacific Crest Trials outright says that if your reason for hiking the PCT includes "Cheryl Strayed" to "keep digging".

Last year, I did read "Wild" (and then watched the movie) and it's what got me motivated.  I thought to myself, if this dangerously unprepared, naive, twenty-something can hike the PCT and not die, I can, too.  Especially with a little more preparation and planning and training, I can do it.