Location: Cup of Cherries Coffee House, South Lake Tahoe
Showers Taken: 19
Avocado Count: 36
Note: this blog post is all over the place, I will be having less and less time in towns to post, so pictures will continue to be upside down and stories will continue to not make any sense. I appreciate your patience and understandings. Care about you.
Why can’t I sleep indoors? There’s no blood on the walls, I can spread my body out, I can control the climate, I can wipe with toilet paper, I don’t have to sleep on a smelly piece of rolled up clothing, I don’t lose feeling in my major muscle groups, I don’t have to sleep on rocks, and I don’t have to search for scary beady eyes when I get up to pee. You’d think I’d get to this bed and pass right out. I sure thought so too, but that hasn’t been the case this summer.
What it comes down to is this: I replace writing in my journal with watching the Kardashians, I replace eating sprouted Mung Beans with eating pizza and ice cream, I replace the sound of a swiftly flowing creek with the sound of 18-wheelers, I replace staring at the stars to shoving my face in a suffocating (always too thick) pillow, I replace dinner-time jokes with again, the Kardashians. It’s no wonder. Why did it take me so long to hash this out? The luxuries of sleeping in a bed, indoors, and with a television will always reach for me, and will always be a treat. But damnit after 10 minutes in this bed I get restless and pathetically realize that even though I have no access to a TV, I’ve somehow already seen this episode of the Kardashians. Twice. And that POM is the most obnoxious sponsor of American Ninja Warrior.
Two things, we heard two things about this past section: The mosquitoes are at their worst, and it is the toughest physically. I brushed aside the mosquito part and got really amped up about how difficult it was going to be — after spending a week in Mammoth living like a member of American society, I needed to get my ass kicked, I WANTED to get my ass kicked. Fortunately, the trail kicked my ass. Unfortunately, the trail also bit my ass, several different times, by several different inhabitants. Whyyy I ouuuttttaaa. But seriously, who’s got the calamine lotion?!?
Alright, let’s address the elephant in the room here, the mosquitoes weren’t THAT bad, right? I mean I’m just laying here in a comfortable bed for the first time in 10 days and for the last time for much longer, and I can’t stop frantically itching my WHOLE body (have they no shame?). I’m using every body part as a scratching device but still thinking about how lucky we were that they weren’t, again, THAT bad. Why am I so full of it sometimes? Here I go about to put a positive spin on how the mosquitoes could have been WAY worse, while my skin crawls in agony (what are they injecting into my bloodstream?) This coming from a girl who spent the last part of her prayer cycle one night asking God why he created mosquitoes. As I drifted away during this particular prayer I decided that no, God, you do not believe in peace on earth, because you created mosquitoes. And that was probably my most monumental thought of the whole day. I then woke up to dozens of them attached to my tent screen waiting for me to reach for that zipper. Deserved that one. Little did they know that I purposely dehydrated myself the past few days so I wouldn’t have to pee at night OR until fully dressed in my flesh-covering attire in the morning, thus, never really having to leave my tent and subjecting myself to their ugly little bodies. Don’t worry, I don’t consider that a victory, but it does make me feel like I’m smarter than them, which I mean, I’ll take what I can give myself.
On the hiking side of things, this past section was breathtaking. We hiked into Yosemite and past its Northern boundary. We hiked over incredibly impressive rock work, more snow, past gorgeous alpine lakes, through muddy meadows, up and around and down sharp ridge lines, and through soft soiled forests. There was so much to see, so many smiles to erupt.
The physically challenging part came with the extreme elevation gain/loss. We averaged between 3500-5000′ of gain each day, and usually with an equal amount of descent. Yep, you guessed it, straight UP, straight DOWN, one mile in the valley to stretch out the legs before another 1500′ straight UP, straight eh, you get it. Whenever we were blessed with flat terrain we kicked it up several notches to make up time. We were still in the Sierra but wanted to push our daily mileage, so we went kind of hard you can say.
The last 3 days of the 9-day stretch were 25, 25, then a “what the hay” let’s end it with a bang, our first 30-miler! We had a group bet going early on who would hike the first 30-mile day. You should know ALL of our bets throughout the summer have been under the terms of Dairy Queen Blizzards. They are called “Blizzard Bets” and probably a new one gets betted on everyday between 2 of us. So many bets that we lost count because we have yet to see a DQ near the trail to cash in on. Now we just all owe each other a whole bunch-a-blizzards.
Point being, it was pretty special to reach the 30-mile milestone with Camel and Centerfold, in the Sierra, on the last day of the toughest section, in garbage shoes. Also, on the last day of us hiking together (they’ll catch me soon enough, but I’m leaving a day earlier than them from town). To be honest, I felt great, it was a feeling of euphoria for the last few miles as I swooped into camp right before 9pm. One of those banner days that won’t ever be forgotten.
At this point in the trek, after a few days and reaching the 1,000 mile mark (woot woot!) I was with the boys, Centerfold and Camel. Spoon and Chuckles had to hitch into a town for a resupply, and the boys and I planned for a longer jaunt, and did the last 150 miles together. We are both best of friends and worst of enemies. Best of friends because we’ve been hiking together for so long that our connection and communication is almost at a point of effortlessness. We have each other dialed in, we are no longer surprised if someone says “I’ll be right back” and not see them till morning. We are 3 very independent creatures, who fortunately enough, make one heck of a team. I’m always the last to leave camp, except one particular morning last week when, to both our surprise, I walked past Centerfold with his tent still up. No “Good morning Toe Touch! How’d you sleep? How the feet feelin?” Nope, I got a look of astonishment and an “aw man I’m the last to leave? This sucks.” This made me laugh for the whole first mile of the day, Centerfold is the most organized and efficient member of Mile 55 (he’s the type of guy who actually uses the dresser drawers in motel rooms) and has NEVER been the last to leave camp in over 1,000 miles. Chuckles and I used to joke and say we should all leave incredibly early one morning just to mess with him.
The boys and I would leap-frog eachother most of the days, taking breaks at different times, performing camp and hygiene chores in different streams and rivers. Every night one of them made a campfire to keep the mosquitoes away so we didn’t have to eat in the solitude of our tents. I’ll admit it, I played the “girl card” and tended to my feet and bug bites in my tent while they gathered logs and sticks for the fire. I would then magically appear once the fire was ablaze and THEN ask if I could help in any way. Admitting this doesn’t get me off the hook, but it’s not like they didn’t know what I was doing anyways. Again, we’re a great team! Hah (sorry guys).
We would hike our minimum mileage set for ourselves (22ish) and then add bonus miles until we found a campsite with a fire ring. We were each others worst enemies because we all have this thing where we don’t like to be outdone by other people, we are constantly striving for more. This similar trait in all of us came in handy as we all need to increase our mileage if we want to be home for Christmas. As Spoon and Centerfold would say in their daily satirical morning pump-ups “alright guys lets PUSH THE ENVELOPE TODAY.” Basically, we hiked into the late evening hours, laughed in misery about the mosquitoes, told each other how “pretty” we looked in our bug headnets, discussed our favorite climb of the day, threw out some jokes on Chuckles and Spoons behalf because remember, they weren’t there, and tallied up how many times we slipped and fell on our butts that day. Camel would then whip out the elevation profile for the the next day, tell us how flat it was going to be, then Centerfold would look at the map and label it in one quick word: “easy,” and then we’d hike up several mountains right outta the gates and repeat the same process. It was my favorite section thus far.
Three days, THREE days in a row we received trail magic. I didn’t realize we would cross a paved road once each day. Turns out, trail angels like to set up camp there and feed us! It was unbelievable, the last 3 days and the highest mileage ones, we hiked right into picnic tables of food in the middle of the day. Two days in a row I had a bowl of cereal, Chipmunk even had almond milk for it!
The pattern with trail magic food spreads (that I am really, really enjoying) is that it is all my favorite foods from growing up. Captain Crunch, packaged pastries, soda, Oreos, Nacho chips, American cheese, 4th of July mini cupcakes, and of course, DUPLEX COOKIES.
It’s amazing, comforting, and so familiar. As Chuckles pointed out in her recent blog post (which made us all cry, by the way) we have reached a point where homesickness is inevitable. The excitement of the start is long gone, the excitement for the Sierra is over, and the excitement for Canada is far too out of reach. We all miss our friends, families, and kitchens. You give up a lot of freedoms to be out here, and I wouldn’t trade this life for anything, so it is just another challenge to overcome. Letters, texts, and packages from friends and family help immensely. I can’t think of a better pick-me-up. In Tuolomne I received a “vintage” (still think it’s a top thrifty find but she’ll never confess) Moose, Wyoming tee from my coffee obsessed, happy houring roomie in Jackson. Halez has become my personal fashion designer for the trail, basically everything I wear she made, it’s pretty freakin awesome. I also got package of yummy foods (and Finding Dory) band-AIDS from my beautiful friend Maureen whom I met in Australia what? 8 years ago? Incredible friend, heart of gold and so incredibly thoughtful. (She made me say that if I want more Scooby Snacks).
Friends that become family, I have felt this way about Chuckles (Maggie), Spoon (Mark), Centerfold (Jon) and Camel (Dugan) since April 12th. They’ve been my trail family, they are the 4 people I am so proud to tell people “no, you don’t get it, we STARTED together, we were friends before this, crazy right?” Well, today is the day we split. I left 3 notes along the trail last week for Chuckles and Spoon, the last one being a classic Toe Touch love letter, left under a rock at their trail exit point. I am afraid those are the 2 I won’t see until MAYBE Washington, and so that goodbye was really hard for me. They have been so incredible, and I’m so glad Chuckles has a blog so I can follow along more closely. I am so excited for them. I am also so very hopeful they will literally pop out of nowhere in the next 1,000 miles. I just don’t know what I’m gonna do at night without Chuckles obnoxious royal blue #downhat and without Spoon telling me how many hours of daylight we have left. Gosh, I’m gonna miss them.
Camel and Centerfold will for sure catch me sooner than later, so after a few beers last night I said goodbye. Those guys have been my brothers out here, and I look forward to being their “carrot” as Camel would say (he’s still working on the proper metaphor, stay tuned) and to trip and have a smartass comment “walk much” come from Centerfold. For now, I’m off to “melt some miles.” I sent home 5lbs of winter gear yesterday. I sent it all home in my bear canister, I told my dad there was a note inside for him. I can’t wait to hear how bad he struggles trying to open it, I can hear Kyle laughing next to him as Bob gives up and chucks it at him. Ah, the little things, the little things.
Mile 55, I love you! Mission Creek: never forget*