Decisions Have Been Made!

Ok, I've watched a couple of videos from this guy, Jeff Corrigan (https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC4zc1A6-xCo30KjS54wcmNA).

He hiked a portion of the southern-most section earlier this year.

About a month ago, I knew I wanted to start the PCT earlier than most. I need the time to get, well, I guess, my hiker legs. I'm planning on starting out only able to do about 5 to 8 miles per day for a couple of weeks. If I started at that pace at the same time as everybody else, I'd likely never finish.

So I was trying to figure out the best time for me to start. The desert in late winter/early spring I hear is beautiful. I believe most of the streams and creeks will be flowing from rain and stuff.

So, I've decided to start my thru hike in <drum roll> mid-March 2018.

...

Wait, I thought there'd be trumpets or something. This is a monumental decision. Meh.  Ok, back to looking at maps.

Abort! ABORT!

Ok, for my second solo backpacking trip, I was going to go to the backcountry wilderness of Sequoia/Kings Canyon National Park. To Seville Lake. Not too far of a hike, not too difficult. And easy trails.

But, it didn't quite go as planned.

Of course.

So, I start off at the Rowell Trailhead. A bit of a bumpy ride, but still doable in the truck.

It was a sunny warm-to-hot climb up to the wilderness boundary where everything changed.

After this sign, the trail curves into shaded forest along a creek. It was beautiful if you could see through the damn thick clouds of nuclear-strength mosquitoes.

I had to stop and use the picaridin and zip on my pant legs and inhaled at least three mosquitoes in the process. I hiked faster. Hoping to out-run the cartoonish clouds. I was mostly successful.

Found a spot to camp and quickly, quickly set up my tent. It was the only place to escape the flying critters.

But, at least it was pretty.

I had to wait until it was long after dark to get out of the tent so I could boil water for my dinner. Even then, I was occasionally bugged (HA!) by the 'skeeters.

But, dinner was good, Mountain House Beef Stroganoff, I believe.

And I lay in my tent reading about how to forecast the weather in the backcountry by the light of my inflatable Luci light.

I went to bed.

Then I woke up.

That's me!

The campsite in the morning was mostly mosquito free. It wasn't until I had to, uh, "do my business" that the 'skeeters turned on me in places I'd really rather not talk about in polite company.

But, I packed up my stuff, trying not to scratch the mostly inappropriate places now sporting new 'skeeter bites. I envied the other backpackers and their bug net hats. Oh, how I envied their previously-scorned-by-me fashion choices...

But, I had a lake to get to.

I got to the border between the Forest and the Park and took a break. It was pleasantly mostly bug-free.

I'd made it. I was in the Wilderness of a National Park for the first time.

The lake! It was waiting for me!

After a rest, I shrugged and strained into my backpack again and headed down the hill. Down. The map said the trail forked; one trail directly to the lake and another down the canyon to a trail junction and then up a third trail to the lake.

I hiked.

I hiked some more. I passed a meadow. I thought, "I wonder if that's the meadow I've seen on the map." So I get out my GPS device and check.

It wasn't the meadow I'd seen on the map. I wasn't on the right trail. The right trail was west by a couple hundred feet.

So, after hemming and hawing and wondering if my bloodied corpse would be found by another wayward traveler years down the road, I traipsed off into the underbrush and debris-ridden forest floor to find the trail.

I followed the compass bearing. Checked the GPS device to see when I got close to where the maps (by the US Forest Service, mind you....) said the trail I wanted was.

It wasn't.

There was no trail.

I plopped back down in my camp chair and, with the bug and flies and 'skeeters pestering me, I decided to abort my trip.

I could get to the lake, sure, but it was not the trip I had prepared for. It was better for me to have a pretty hard day that day rather than a really too hard day the next.

I messaged my partner on the InReach I was coming home and why and headed back UP the steep trail to the Park/Forest boundary.

But not before I set a waypoint in the GPS where the maps said there was a fork in the trail but that I somehow missed.

The GPS alarm went off when I got the the "fork" and I looked around.

No trail. Only a run-off channel from the too-steep trail. Sure, it might have been a trail at some point; but not anymore.

That's allegedly a trail.

Still there was some beautiful scenery and nice, green forest stuff.

I ended up hiking about 8 miles from my campsite, to the border, to the "trail" to the meadow, back to the border, back past my campsite and then down to the truck. In the grand scheme, it's not a particularly long nor hard day.

And, in the end, I learned a few things:

1. I can hike 8 miles in a day going up and down hills with a 30 pound pack on my back and not hurt too much.
2. Check with the Forest Service (Or Park Service) to make sure the trails I see on a map--even if published by the Forest Service or Park Service--exist.

So, it was a good trip.

First Overnight. Evah!

I'm nervous.

Like, a lot.

I didn't sleep well last night and I doubt I'll sleep well tonight.

A week ago, I decided that I was done with planning to go backpacking; I just wanted to fucking go do it. I decided that within two weeks, I was going to go on a quick initial backpacking trip. A simple overnighter. Everything around home here in the Sierras is still jammed up with snow and inaccessible which was frustrating.

All this planning and spending money--around $1,000 or so, I'd guess--and nowhere nearby that I wanted to go. My first trip was going to be to Weaver Lake in Sequoia National Forest, but it's all still under about 10 feet of snow and the roads aren't open. Fuck that. Everywhere I thought to go and found to go was always covered in snow. Or too long a hike. Or two damn much elevation gain. (I'm still worried about my knee.)

Then I found a little 11 mile round trip hike in Henry W. Coe State Park over by Gilroy, CA. Not too much elevation gain only about 1,350 feet. Not too long; about 11 miles. Not covered in snow. Water reports looked good, too.

So I started planning. Got my maps. Got everything I actually need. Got a little stove to boil water. Got the fuel canister (fucker's kinda heavy). And now I have everything packed up. And I'm fucking nervous.

I'm nervous about my knee. I'm nervous about the climbing. I'm nervous about the descending. I'm worried about how heavy my pack is.

28.2 pounds.

My pack weighs a whopping 28.2 pounds which includes two liters of water. (I think there's decent water out there, but I'm not 100% certain and two liters should get me through an 11 mile hike all by itself.) And I'm worried that carrying that much weight without a lot of training is going to be too much for my legs and knees.

And the route as described is 11 miles. 11 miles of carrying upwards of 30 pounds. Up and down hills. I just don't know if that's a wise place to start.

But. If I take the route and reverse it, it's a three mile walk up a creek. It's flatter. Probably wetter. And likely easier on my knees and legs. That's what I'm going to do. Hike to the end of the creek.

Then, if I'm feeling up to it, I'll continue the remaining two miles the pond. The slope up from the end of the creek to the pond is of 9.6% grade which, by the time I get to the end of the three miles of creek, I'll know if I'm able to do. And three miles of gently climbing alongside a creek should be easy and immensely doable. And fun. (This is supposed to be fun, remember?)

If nothing else, I'll find a nice secluded campsite all by myself and enjoy the evening and night and morning.

And, now, I'm ready to go. Excited and nervous. (I mean, what if I HATE backpacking???)