As I hike, I often think about why. Why (oh why) am I doing this?
By any measure, a large part of each day is very difficult. My pack is heavy. The trail climbs and descends, climbs and descends, tracing every canyon and gully. And primarily, it is hot. Too hot for this cold-blooded Canadian!
One of the most popular films on this year’s Festival tour was Wild Days— the story of four Frenchman who undertake a self-supported 50-day ski mountaineering expedition in Alaska, hauling 150 kg of gear each. ‘Mountains are difficult,’ one of them says, ‘and I only do things for pleasure.’ In the film, the drudgery of the journey is balanced out by the euphoria of skiing Denali and Foraker, the brotherhood of the trail …… and the glitter (you have to see the film.)
For me, the euphoria comes from the small things I encounter — lizards (so many lizards!), birds, flowers, the trail stretching out in front of me. Somehow this compensates for the sweat, the dirt, and the tired legs. That said, the most blissful moment of each day is when I stretch out in my tent watching the blue sky slowly turn pink as the sun sets and the first stars appear.
The birding has been good. I’ve identified a few new-to-me species: Black-chinned Sparrow, California Towhee, Acorn Woodpecker. And thanks to Wayne and Ruth, I got a great look at a Bald Eagle family!
Acorn woodpeckers are especially interesting. Unlike most woodpeckers, they are gregarious, breeding cooperatively, and hanging out in family groupings of 15 to 20 individuals.
I’ve made it to Idyllwild, kilometer 280 on the PCT. Yesterday, I was forced to skip ahead about 30 kilometres using a ‘trail angel’ shuttle, in order to catch up with the hotel room I reserved back in January, when I imagined myself speeding along at 20+ kilometres a day.
For the past 24 hours, I’ve stuffed myself with hamburgers and apple pie, done my laundry, and slept until 10 am instead of getting up at 5:30. Bliss! Tomorrow, l hit the trail again. For the next three days, I’ll be walking through a pine forest in cooler temperatures. Unlike the desert, I recognize most of the birds calls here — chickadees, nuthatches, jays and flickers.
On Sunday, I’ll descend to the desert again, crossing Interstate 10 not far from Palm Springs, to begin the last stretch of my hike.