Op-Ed: Why I Got Off The Pacific Crest Trail After [800] Miles; Another Thru-Turned-Section Hiker's Perspective, 4 Years Later

I’m sure by now my PCT oriented followers, if there are any left, have read Vanessa Pamela Friedman’s post,

“Why I Got Off the Pacific Crest Trail After 454 Miles Instead Of Walking All The Way To Canada.” 

If you haven’t read it yet, please do so now. It is an extraordinarily well written, moving, and relatable post about PCT culture and the realities of long distance hiking. But if you read between the lines, I think you’ll find her essay is really about what post-hike depression feels like for someone who has had a thru hike turn into a section, as well as the thought processes some of us non-traditional hikers face when we enter an athletic endeavor.

I've had a really hard time processing her post over the last few days because it's intensely relatable and because I'm still looking for a reason why I feel so fucking bad about hiking 800 miles. I've studied her post, gone back over my blog posts, discussed it with Josh, and when I get honest with myself I feel like a lot of the things she talked about, while triggers worth discussing, are not 100% the responsibility of the culture to change.

Don't get me wrong, I think it's awesome that Vanessa wants to raise awareness for future PCT'ers, and it inspired me to share too, in hopes it might provide hopefuls with a well-rounded perspective. While my take on her essay may contain an unpopular viewpoint, it’s one that I’m more than open to discussing.

So here we go:

As a person who has been overweight since childhood, I never felt at home in athletic circles. Even though hiking isn’t a sport in the traditional sense, there were still those times that you encountered “bro culture” from people who were athletic. For instance, I was on a popular trail in San Diego early on in my hiking career and a girl in a group of college kids poked fun at me for sweating too much. The comment took the wind out of my sails and I ended up turning back and going home not long after, never to return to that trail again. I've also had men look at Josh and ask him how he got me to agree to go backpacking when I am the one who taught Josh. Luckily, those “bro” encounters are limited to a few assholes on trails that are already highly occupied by, well, assholes. With the sheer number of hikers on the PCT in any given year, some of them are bound to be shitty. I’m glad we are pointing out that the PCT isn’t the magical fairy land it is often made out to be. It is still reality, often on a finer scale.

I transitioned into backpacking because I wanted to go further than my body could carry me in one day. My social circle isn’t particularly athletic, so I learned about backpacking from the internet and my role models were people I read about in books and in blogs. Since I didn’t have willing partners, backpacking trips were nearly always solo. Hiking solo is both liberating and daunting. On one hand you don’t have to worry about struggling to keep up or feel obligated to apologize for your pace. On the other, you have a lot of time to think about things and the nights are kind of scary!

One of my very first backpacking trips was solo up San Gorgonio, the highest peak in Southern California. I was sporting a frameless ultralight pack that was wildly overloaded at 30lbs. This, paired with the 240lbs I was already carrying on my body pushed me into a realm of endurance I was not familiar with. By the time I got to camp everyone who’d camped there the day before was leaving and I suddenly found myself all alone, in bear country, on the side of an 11k foot mountain and it was too late to hike down. I couldn’t escape the fact that I was going to have to face feelings of being totally out of my element, even though I wanted so badly to be the badass backpacker I read about in blogs. My solution was to sit in the dirt and cry.

With my physical body so tapped, I had no ability to counter or avoid emotional triggers that were flinging open doors in my brain, letting loose those feelings of abandonment, inadequacy, fear and loneliness I’d carried around since I was a kid. Once I stopped crying I found a new, stronger part of me awkwardly mixed up with a new, more vulnerable me. I set up camp just as people started showing up and felt a mixture of relief that I wouldn’t have to camp alone, and fear that they would see that I had cried, that I was scared, that I was not a badass hiker.   

When I finally got to Campo to start on my PCT journey, I was a bit gun-shy from those past experiences and from reading the internet drama (don’t go on the PCT class pages, ever). It was also overwhelming to realize that I was actually going to do this, fresh out of a divorce and with a brand new boyfriend I might not have been ready to live in a tent with for months at a time. This trepidation was further exacerbated by the fact that I set out on the trail in a body that was about 200lbs. I had recently lost 60lbs but then gained back 20 just before departure. Even though I strive to be accepting of my size, it’s not always easy to curb those habitual thoughts, and that rebound weight gain made me feel self-conscious and concerned for injury. The first 20 miles, which I had successfully hiked multiple times before was spent trying to combat intrusive thoughts that I was going to fail. That first day, several people knew who I was from my blog and they were happy to meet me in person, but I was afraid for them to see me because I was not in “trail shape”. It was very easy to manipulate their spoken words to validate my negative thoughts, and I did so, often.

I see a great similarity in my hike and Vanessa’s: we were both fat, embarked fresh from a break up and in new relationships and both identified with communities that had little representation on the trail; her LGTBQ, and me, in the drug and alcohol recovery scene. I also see the same idiosyncrasies in our social encounters, albeit on different ends of the spectrum, specifically, the moment she received her trail name. In the Autostraddle post Vanessa makes it sound like she was named “scissors” by someone because she is gay. Really, she was named scissors because her gaiters had scissors on them. I'm not sure if that came across to people who may not have read her daily blog. The person who named her asked her if she sewed and Vanessa made the distinction that the scissors represented her being gay. I think that exchange made the person who named her feel like they had made a mistake in pointing out her gaiters at all, whereas it made Vanessa feel happy.

This is a good example of the overwhelming unfamiliarity and corresponding coping mechanisms the PCT brings up. I think it is the same thing that happened when Vanessa was given an unintentionally backhanded compliment by the "blonde lady" for being a heavy hiker. At some point I believe we all feel like I did that night on San Gorgonio; fearful others will see us and say that we’re in over our heads. So, we do our best to make contact without making waves, but with that many people in the pool everyone is going to get splashed and sometimes it’s going to piss you off.

I teared up when Vanessa discussed "when did you start.” God, I hated that question. It killed me every time it was asked because I already felt like I was doing the PCT wrong. And she’s right, it’s often asked to find out if we’re doing ok compared to other people, but it is also asked as an ice-breaker. I think Vanessa’s issue with the question is much like mine in that it isn’t really about the question, it’s about the trigger that starts my brain on a loop of “should”. I feel the exact same way today when people ask me when I’m going to be done with my degree. It's an honest question that *usually* comes from loving people, it just makes me feel bad because I'm 36 and I “should” have my degree.  Yes, it would be good for us to find a new ice-breaker question, sure, but lets be honest here; that question and cranky people at water sources are not the reasons our hikes ended, even though we can easily convince ourselves that it was.

When I go back and read my own blog from the trail, it is obvious that my feelings of exclusion, negativity and inadequacy, were really me searching for a reason to explain why I felt like I was drowning out there. It was exhausting trying to make the experience fit into the expectation I had from literally years of dreaming, planning, and longing, while I was walking around on feet that looked like raw hamburger meat. This, coupled with the desire to fit into a different hiker’s shoes, be it Cheryl Strayed, Carrot Quinn or any other hiker that isn’t you, makes the experience too big to handle.

Attempting a thru hike as a “normal” person, as in, not a bro, is challenging because you seek to strike a balance between hike-your-own-hike philosophy and the simple math that is miles ÷ winter. If you’re serious about making it to Canada you cannot avoid thinking about daily mileage, it’s just how it goes. For me, who has never experienced an athletic endeavor before, this mathematical formula weighed on me, a lot. It is all I talk about, and even with dozens of people telling me I was doing great I could not get it out of my head. I even adopted the personalities I saw out there and became judgmental and rigid, hoping it would improve my chances of success. 

The straw that broke the camel’s back for my trip was a day hiker at Rae Lakes who made me feel like I didn’t have time to swim because I was so behind I’d never make it to Canada. Did you catch that? ‘MADE ME FEEL’. Certainly, the day hiker could have minded her own business, but she has really no responsibility for the way I respond to what she says, nor does she have any idea what my mental state is at any given moment. Perhaps on a different day what she said would have motivated me all the way to Canada. Perhaps that was the intention of her words all along.

From the PCT I have learned that I do not have to pick up what other people drop, even if they stick it to me like a badge. After any given negative encounter, it is up to me to decide if I’m going to heal the wound or keep reopening it. The real problem for me, was (is) consistently comparing my insides to other people’s outsides; trying to match my feelings to other people’s words. I think to demand the day hiker at Rae Lakes change, and not me, would be the equivalent of putting safety bumpers on all the sharp rocks on the trail. For a species that learns far more from our mistakes than we do our successes, isn't that cheating ourselves out of an opportunity to grow?

The trail didn’t fuck me up any more than I was already, and it's not an epicenter for cultural failures nor successes, it just puts a magnifying glass on those things. I didn’t acquire my feelings of inadequacy, social anxiety and over-sensitivity on the trail, I brought them with me, strapped to my backpack like a bear canister filled with rocks. When I read Vanessa’s essay, I see similar weighted items in her proverbial bear can, too.

I think it is important to explain here that I am not trying to invalidate Vanessa’s accounting of trail life. Her experience has been an invaluable tool for me, as it made me go back and reevaluate my own hike to see if I was taking blame for things I really shouldn’t. I often take responsibility for things that aren’t mine, it’s a deeply ingrained co-dependent behavior. I studied her post and waded through the comments and I want to believe that maybe my negative thoughts and perceptions were a result of that toxic masculinity she was talking about. But if I’m honest I know that the underlying issue here is the weird stories we tell ourselves about where we do and don’t belong.

When I set out on the PCT never did I think an accomplishment like hiking 800 consecutive miles would make me feel SO FUCKING BAD ABOUT MYSELF. But it did, and it does, every. single. day. But I know in my heart of hearts that not making it to Canada was the point of the PCT, for me. Those feelings of inadequacy I had during the PCT are a real, recurrent problem in my life. They are the reason why I am on psych meds, why, after my ex-husband told me he wished I was thinner I sat in my kitchen and tattooed “starve” on my wrist so I’d see it anytime I put food in my mouth; It’s why I can’t raise my hand in class when I know the answer, why I disassociate talking in a group, and why I feel homesick when I’m sitting in my living room. It’s that whisper in my subconscious that drives my anxiety. It’s that thing that makes me want to die.

As painful as it is, I am grateful that the PCT turned up the volume on the fucked-up dialogue playing in my head so that I can finally deal. While my cognitive distortions may be an acquired adaptation to the failures of a male-dominated society, and fixing those failures will help future generations avoid feeling my pain, it won’t fix what’s already broken in my brain, only rewiring my thought patterns will do that.  I challenge that microaggression cannot exist in a vacuum, and the day we learn how to replace being offended with genuine communication is where the real change will occur. 

I’m not saying there isn’t work that needs to be done in the trail community. I saw weird shit, like trail “angel” greed, people pressuring others to do the 24 in 24 wherein hikers drink a case of beer to the head while enroute to the The Anderson's, and I even talked with a group of hikers who were ostracized over what sounded like gossip and rumors (The A.T. crew 2014). But it’s my experience that much of that drama swirled around groups who did 30/40-mile days, and the internet seemed to be the heart of that seedy underbelly. Vanessa is right, though, that kind of behavior is not ok, and I am all for putting in the work to change it. But again, we cannot help create a safe space if our own head isn't one already. We can, however, do our best to accurately describe what the trail is like for each of us and act as representation to our own niche communities:

It's my experience that The PCT is not the road to Candyland. It’s not some egalitarian other worldy dimension. It's life on overdrive. IT’S FUCKING HARD. It’s a crash course in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. It's a glimpse into the real world. If you let it, it will shake some of the entitlement off you; I haven't been able to look at water on tap, food on demand or bathrooms with clean, shiny tile as anything short of luxurious, since.

The relationships we have with others are heightened too. I think often, the bonding between hikers that so many people talk about comes out of survival, not because the community is set up in such a loving way. I think this quote sums up “trail families” perfectly;

“We are people who normally would not mix. But there exists among us a fellowship, a friendliness, and an understanding which is indescribably wonderful. We are like the passengers of a great liner the moment after rescue from shipwreck, when camaraderie, joyousness and democracy pervade the vessel from steerage to Captain's table. Unlike the feelings of the ship's passengers, however, our joy in escape from disaster does not subside as we go our individual ways. The feeling of having shared in a common peril is one element in the powerful cement which binds us.” – The AA Big Book

Maybe I’m wrong in saying that I don’t think Vanessa’s experience dipped into the “bro culture” arena as much as it did the mental tribulations of the trail. After all, I wasn't there in 2017 and I didn't hike by myself in 2014. But I honestly think the mental aspect is far more of an issue to the average PCT hiker than toxic masculinity. It is real and it’s a huge reason why people don’t finish. I think Vanessa missed an opportunity to discuss the extra emotional work many of us non-traditional hikers (and regular hikers for that matter) must endure on the trail. I really wish she would expound more on her experiences with combating and healing the mental-fallout of years of being stereotyped and struggling with a lack of representation, not just how those things need to change. I wish we were putting in the same amount of time exchanging real strategies to combat self-hate for being fat, as we do combating people who engage in fat-hate. 

When I think about the PCT today, 4 years later, I see it as a ribbon of dirt that acts like a magnifying glass to your insides. It leads you to your own truth. The truth I found at my own personal terminus is summed up in something I heard in Program: "All of my problems may have other people’s names on them, but the solutions to those problems have my name on them." For that insight I am eternally grateful to the PCT experience, and I hope others will get out there and experience their own PCT, too.

But, just like the trail, your mileage may vary.

 

Rock Climber's Loop

Believe it or not, there are a few trails in Mission Trails that I haven't done and the Rock Climber's Loop is one of them. Its a short hike, only about a mile and a half starting from Josh's house.

Yeah, from Josh's house...we were trying the friend thing again and met at his house after work, heading out to the trail around 4pm. Josh brought his big camera and took a lot of great photos which I imagine he'll post on his blog soon.

I was feeling good and actually flew up the steep trail, well, flew up by my standards anyway. The views from up here are really beautiful and the rocks were spectacular. They don't look nearly as magnificent from the road as they do close up. When we finally reached the top of the trail we walked the crest of the mountain and chatted with some rock climbers who were super nice. I like rock climbers! I've yet to meet any that are pretentious or egocentric, which is kind of what I expect of them since they are such badasses!

After a couple of fun scrambles over slick boulders, the trail headed back down toward the road. Looking at all of the new grass and plants on the hillside made me so excited for spring! Everything is so green and there is so much water, the flowers are going to be amazing,

On our way back to Josh's house we poked around and found some impressive groves of wild cucumber and observed a sharp-shinned or coopers hawk on a light standard.

This is a super fun, super short hike that 's perfect for after work. Next time I go I'll bring a pair of binoculars so I can get a good look at the river bed from that vantage point. As for Josh and I...well, this hike was fun, but things got complicated again soon after and we are back to just the occasional email. I wish it would work between us because I miss my friend, but I think relationships are like farts; if you have to force it, its probably shit.

Santa Ysabel Open Space Preserve - West

I wasn't planning to hike after the Borrego trip seeing as forecasters were enthusiastically reporting rain, but when I woke the sky was bright blue and I knew I couldn't stay inside. I wasn't sure where I was going to do my next hike, so I just kind of jumped in the truck and headed east. I cruised up hwy 67 thru the boulder fields of Lakeside and Poway before joining Hwy 78 in Ramona. I stopped and grabbed some breakfast there and continued on thru the rolling grass lands of Santa Ysabel. I am usually heading home on this route, so coming in from a different direction gave me the opportunity to see things I usually fly by. When I approached the turn out for Santa Ysabel West Preserve I made the quick decision to turn in and check it out. There was only one other car in the round-about lot as I walked toward the information kiosk. I pulled out a trifold map/brochure from the display and decided the trail looked doable and that a cruise thru the oaks was exactly what I needed. 

Photo Credit:The Canyoneers for The San Diego Reader 11/4/2015

I grabbed my gear and headed down a long fire road lined with oaks and ground squirrels scurrying about. I watched them for a while and they made me laugh as they chased each other around.

The trail left its level grade and descended into a creek drainage before climbing steeply out again. At the top of the hill sat several large oaks and an information placard that explained they were Engelmann Oaks.

The trail meandered thru rolling hills the entire way, with some relatively steep inclines as it went from ridge to ridge. The day was cool and crisp and the views went on for days.

After a while I reached the top of the hill I'd been climbing and the trail descended to a spring loaded gate. There were a great many animal trails here that looked like they were meant to circumvent the fence.

The trail began to descend gradually until it tired of it's slow and steady grade opting to just drop straight down. I dug my poles in the soft dirt in front of me to help me even my pace and my feet slid to the front of my shoes as I dipped down, down, down to Santa Ysabel creek.

At the bottom of the hill was a shady oak grotto with a few picnic tables and there I met a couple of women who were heading back toward the parking area. We chatted for a while about trekking poles and their idea to fashion a set that would have pepper spray accessible from the handle. We talked about solo hiking and one of the ladies said she is doing a big Utah national park adventure soon where she's going to hit as many parks as she can by herself. I told her about the Inreach and the confidence it's given me on rural solo jaunts and she was appreciative of the information. After chatting about our love of solo hiking for a while we parted ways, them starting the trudge up that big hill, and me starting the trudge out of the creek drainage toward the beginning of the balloon shaped loop.

This little creek reminded me so much of the PCT and it kind of made me home sick! I felt little waves of that feeling I had when I was prepping for, and finally on the trail and it made me smile. The PCT was challenging for sure but the real challenge was dealing with myself. I've done a lot of life rearranging and hard work in therapy since then and it has been paying off; I'm feeling much more grounded these days. I'm hoping to get back on trail in 2020 for what I'm calling the hindsight tour.  

Eventually I reached a junction between the Ridge Trail and the Upper Creek Trail. The wide open views of the Upper Creek Trail helped me decide which way to go. I opted to continue on with my uphill and get it all out of the way, and proceeded up the Ridge trail.

At the top of the hill I saw something bronze in the sun. As I got closer I realized it was a big ole' cow and I said hello as I passed by.

She didn't seem very amused by my hello nor my presence in general and stood there giving me a hard eye as I passed.

I made my way toward the rest of the herd expecting them to move but they didn't. In fact, two of them turned tail and shat and pissed in my direction while never breaking eye contact. I gave them a bit of a wide berth as I moved over to the fence, but they moved in the same direction I was going blocking my way even more.

I was quickly running out of ideas as I neared the calves and I moved my way off the trail looking for another route. One cow called another and I turned to see a big black cow running up the hill, and when she got there, she was PISSED. She gave me a stomp and a half-hearted charge as she groaned her displeasure with my proximity to the babies. 

I finally found my way out a gate that was closed with a caribeaner next to the trail before I got killed. I later learned that cows account for more deaths annually than sharks. That's kinda scary! I met some crazy cows on the PCT too, but none as aggressive as these. I will be a bit more careful next time I approach a herd with calves. The irritated cows watched me as I made my way downhill on the Coast to Crest trail.

Happy now to be in relative safety, I stopped to watch a couple of Red Tailed Hawks soaring over the land. Their calls are so dramatic and give me chills every time I hear them. This area has no shortage of majestic raptors, it seemed every tree, bush and fence post had some type of hawk sitting on it scanning the grassland below

I reached my final junction and turned back the way I came to close the loop. This section was exposed and treeless and the sun beat down on me but the coolness of the day offset any heat that was radiating. Winter in San Diego County is a blessing. I would not recommend this trail in the summer!

The trail was soft and muddy as I headed back and I enjoyed inspecting scat with bones in it as well as a plethora of tracks including everything from deer, bobcats and turkeys.

I descended back into the creek drainage and slipped a couple times on the loose rocks catching myself before I hit the ground. Once on level ground, I took the opportunity to sit at the picnic tables and tie my shoes as well as eat a bit of glucose for the huge climb that awaited me.

What a beautiful place! Just build my house right here please!

I took the steep terrain like a champ but still sat a while at the top of the hill at another picnic table. I focused on just being there, in the moment and listening to the cows and raptors do their thing on the hillside below. "I am grateful," I said out loud to myself, "right now, I am at peace." and it was true. There's noting better than realizing you're in a good place and being able to stay in it, even after the thought.

When I passed through the final pipe gate I found some fresh cat tracks in the mud. Not sure if this is a small mountain lion or a big bobcat.

When I arrived back at my truck I felt super good! The hike was more challenging that I thought but not hard, really just enough to make me feel like I accomplished something with my day. I look forward to checking out the larger East preserve another day.

Hike 4 of 52 is done! On to the next!

Culp and Blair Valleys

I was supposed to hike down to Three Sisters Falls on this day to clean up some graffiti, but while jumping through the hoops required to register as a volunteer with the Cleveland Natl. Forest, some kind trail steward had beat me to it. I can't really say I'm all that heart broken, that trial is not for the faint of heart! Having a beautiful day at my disposal I headed back out to the desert.

And guess who joined me... Josh! He decided to give being my friend a shot. We were in search of the waterfall I attempted to find on New Years Day in upper Hellhole Canyon, north of  the Culp Valley campground. With two heads navigating we were able to find the correct ridge to climb to access the canyon. Once on top of the hill we found the canyon was deep. REEAAALLLYY deep. And decided it was probably not the best hike for Josh to try and get his trail legs back.

We abandoned the waterfall hike and decided to cruise around on the ridge line as it descends toward the west fork of Hellhole Canyon. I was looking for bench marks on the boulders as I've read there are a few in these rocky hills but all we found was a neat rock grotto and copious amounts of cholla.

Once we reached the end of the ridge line we descended down a steep cross county slope that we named "hold my beer ridge" as in, hold my beer while I do something stupid. At the bottom I noticed a little rock shelter that looked as if it had been recently used by an animal. Upon closer inspection I spotted something shiny wedged between the rocks. 

I stuck my trekking pole in and fished out this beauty. I don't think I've never found an intact pelvis before. I emailed the Anza Borrego Foundation when I got home to see if they knew who it belonged to but they never responded. Do you have any ideas?

I put the pelvis back where I found it and Josh and I cruised to the top of the canyon to see if there was anyting else interesting to see. We decided it would be fun to set two cars one day and do the canyon in its entirety. However, today was not that day and I had to use the bathroom so we headed back up to the trailhead. Somehow the trip out of that little valley is always tough! It doesn't look like its all that strenuous but it takes the wind out of me every time! I'd like to go back and camp at Culp Valley some day to do some more exploring on those ridges.

  

After Culp Valley, Josh expressed interest in seeing the Pictographs at Blair Valley. I love that place so I drove us back to the S-2 and down the dirt road to the trail head. On our way out we met a coyote who feigned a limp in order to garner sympathy from us and hopefully a snack. We did not oblige but we did enjoy watching him put on his act.

 Since I've been here before, and I'm doing the Explorer version of the 52 hikes which requires you explore new areas or routes, I'm adding it on to the Culp Valley trip instead of letting it stand alone. However, this trip experience did turn out to be different for me, as I got to see it through Josh's eyes and a nice gentlemen we met at the Smugglers Canyon dry falls. The man we met was from New Mexico and we exchanged information about Anza Borrego and New Mexico local tribes. His theory about our pictographs was that they were an illustrated map indicating an area of agriculture or farming. Even though the Kumeyaay were nomadic, this rang a bell for me knowing that we were one canyon over from the mortrero trail which is known to be a sort of kitchen for the Kumeyaay on their travels. The mortero trail has everything from agave roasting pits to pictographs as well as, you guessed it, mortreros. Thinking about the pictographs in this way made them click for me and I felt a new understanding of the area.

When the day was all said and done we had done about 5 miles and had a lot of laughs. It was nice to get out and hike with Josh. If there is one thing we do well together it's hike and I really enjoyed his company. I hope we will be able to do it again soon.

Coyote Mountain Exploration

For my first hike of the 52 Hike Challenge Explorer Series, I decided to check out a place that I've looked at with interest for several years, but have yet to explore. You see that monster right there? That giant, prehistoric beast with its razor sharp barbs?

No, not the dinosaur, silly...

This big ass thing! Coyote Mountain! It juts out of the ground to a height of 3,192 feet from the desert floor. It is what separates Coyote Creek from Rock House Canyon and it looks just as foreboding from either side. I've always looked at it with interest and today I decided to check it out.

I parked on Henderson Canyon Road across from an old 4x4 track and set out across the dunes. I skipped the road opting to take a small trail and followed it away from the summit toward Peg Leg Monument. Eventually, I tired of the PCT style winding and climbed cross country up a chute to gain a better vantage point. 

The top of the ridge revealed another ridge, and the top of that ridge revealed another and so on, until I came to a small valley. From this vantage point I noticed the road wound its way up in a much more direct fashion than I had chosen to come. This is par for the course for me I suppose, taking the least direct route that is nonsensically difficult. I hiked the road until it turned again into trail and then forced myself to follow the trail. I wasn't 100% successful at this and chose my own nonsensical routes a couple times while bagging as many high points as I could.

The hiking was pleasant albeit steep and the vegetation sparse enough it didn't cut you up. The rocks were loose trip hazards if you weren't careful, but were also super interesting if you paid attention. This one looked like a piece of wood but it was just a rock, through and through.

It was getting warm and there was zero wind so I sat down to eat a snack and put on my hat. While digging thru my bag I discovered I had accidentally brought 4 liters of water instead of 3, and of course, I had forgotten my hat. I slapped on extra sunscreen and hoped for the best as I resumed my uphill journey.

Just as I started back up a steep hill I heard some rocks fall. I stopped in my tracks and looked around but didn't see anything. I started back up again and my eyes were drawn to the ridge where I realized there was something on top.

I stopped, straining to see, until the creature decided to show himself. A massive Bighorn ram stood majestically above me.

Knowing how easily they camouflage in the rocks I took a bazillion photos hoping to capture him before he disappeared. Once I felt satisfied I had documented his presence, I continued to hike up expecting him to bolt.

But he didn't, in fact, he even came closer. As I crested the hill I was greeted by his friend, another adult ram with only one in tact horn.

 I took a ton of photos and continued on only to find they hiked with me! For about a half mile we hiked together, them taking the sheep route on the edge of the mountain and me taking the trail. I put together some video if you want to see it. You can tell by how many times I trip during the video that they are better with their footing than me.

There were even points where they would look back and stop and wait for me to catch up before they headed on! It was surreal and amazing. Spirit is talking to me again and mom was right, I just needed to go somewhere new where I could receive her new messages. Ram Totem is change and new beginnings, he has an  'a little less talk and a lot more action' type theme. How perfect is that! 10-4 guys, I hear you!

Eventually I left them on the ridge looking majestic as hell, high above Borrego Springs and pushed on up the hill.

I came to a peak above a deep gorge and decided this was likely the end of the line for me today. In fact, I probably should have called it a mile back but the rams were just too cool to leave.

Since this little peak had a marker with no sign I decided to call it 'I'm probably going to barf hill'

Because I knew I was totally going to barf before the day was through. Not only had I forgotten my hat but I'd also forgotten glucose and having dipped back into ketosis, I knew the bonk was starting and vomitville was just around the corner. My body loves to be in ketosis and mild exercise is awesome in that state but anything that gets you huffing and puffing will blow out the small amount of sugar stores you need to run your brain and its really hard to function when your brain goes night-night.

I tried to eat something but couldn't get it down so I started back down the mountain in a hurry. I passed my sheep friends again and said good bye while trying not to eat shit on the lose rocks."I climbed up this?!" I thought. Jeeze!

My brain was starting to get foggy and I ended up going up hill when I should have gone down, but finding this random pile of rocks made it not so bad. I sat in their shade and tried again to eat something but my body was too far gone.
Got to get to the truck!

I made a few more wrong turns eventually making my way down a flood channel that I mistook for the road. This flood route was not only exponentially more difficult, but it also took me further away from my truck.  I finally made it to the street and walked as quickly to my truck as I could.  On the long road walk I decided I need to outfit my truck like Kitt from Night Rider so I can just call and he'll roll up like a boss where ever I am.


When I finally got to my truck I cracked open a warm bubble water and sipped at it while laying down in the back. I was hoping it would make me barf so I could get on with my day. After a few minutes I evacuated all the water I drank earlier and waited for relief, but it never came. When this has happened to me in the past throwing up is the end of it, I'll feel better and go get some lunch, but not today. I think the difference was that in the past I would have already had glucose on board and throwing up was secondary relief to the stabilized blood sugar. Today I had zero glucose on board and knew I needed to get to the store asap.

I drove to Christmas Circle and headed into the liquor store, grabbing a 7up and Gatorade. I could hardly hold myself up and must have looked terrible because the clerk pulled me out of line allowing me to check out before everyone else. I am so grateful for that because as soon as I made it back to my truck in the parking lot I threw up again. I sipped at the 7up and Gatorade while laying back in my seat but only felt more nauseous. I was embarrassed being sick there so I dumped out some trail mix I had in a cup and held that as my new barf receptacle while driving out of town.

The route up Montezuma Grade was slow and winding and I stopped a few times to vomit there too. I resorted to holding the 7up under my tongue so I could at least absorb some of the sugar thru the veins in my mouth. I found a bag of old chips in my center console and nibbled at those riding the edge between enough to make me feel better and too much that would make me throw up. This went on all the way to Ramona and when I snapped myself back from passing out I considered stopping at CalFire and asking for help. Instead, I stopped on the side of the road and text my mom and brother what was going on and they were ready to help if I needed them. I limped my way home and by the time I made it to I-8 I was feeling more human. I'll definitely make sure to be prepared from now on.

This picture is from a different trip for the sake of the story, I was too fuct up to take any photos during all of this!

In the end, all things considered, it was a super awesome trip. I am really feeling good about stuff right now and am looking forward to this year! The next day was pretty stormy out so instead of trying to get hike 2 of 52 I took a break and drove my mom on a desert adventure.

Here are a couple photos of that, just so we end on a high note!

I love my mom! LMAO!

Thanks for reading everyone! On to the next!