June 22, 2007

"Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves." Henry David Thoreau

I was just about to doze off last night at the sparkling pond when I heard a hiker's footsteps.  The hiker was Cheryl.  She had taken a wrong trail and had hiked several miles out of her way.  Cheryl set up camp, cooked her dinner, and fell fast asleep.  This morning, not surprisingly, I was the first to get moving.  I began my day around 7:30 a.m. and had planned to hike either 18.3 to Grace Lake or 24 miles to the next water source.

My morning hike was beautifully serene and I immediately found myself in the zone.  I stopped once after about three hours to have a snack and to put on the my bug suit.  The mosquitoes were nasty.  I hiked upon three men heading southbound and I asked them if I was on the PCT.  They all assured me I was.  I came upon a trail junction and set my pack down to review my maps.  Hhhmmmm.  I was confused, but remembered the three hikers had told me I was on the trail.  I kept following the main trail but began to question my path.  I hiked upon a man and a woman who were going out for a five day camp.  They were riding horses and had four more with them.  When I asked them about the extra horses they told me the extra horses were with them to carry their food and camp items.  Damn!  Six horses carrying two people's gear for five days!  And here I was carrying my gear for six months on my back.

The man informed me I was way off the trail.  Apparently, at Kerrick Canyon I went up instead of going down.  Anyone who knows me can attest to my ability to get turned around.  The man suggested I continue north and follow his horses' tracks.  I had already hiked at least 15 miles and turning around could present me with some navigational problems as well.  So I proceeded north using the compass Bison Ed had stepped on and found at Deep Creek.  The trail was evident at first and then I found myself bushwacking north.

I eventually followed a dirt road and climbed over a barbed-wire fence twice in a skirt.  Yikes!  I followed the dirt road to a dead-end.  Cows were fenced in a large field.

"Oh no," I thought.

I backtracked to a sign which led to Eagle Creek.  I hiked up the long hill and instinct told me to turn around.  I hiked down again and across a beautiful meadow!  I followed my own tracks back to the dirt road and hiked to the dead-end again.  This time there were no cows.  I climbed the fence and continued north on the dirt road.  I saw a trailer and car.  Wow---this must be a campground.  I asked two campers how to get into Bridgeport, my next re-supply point.  They told me to hike four miles to the road and hitch left.

I felt relieved to have some direction again.  It was growing dark by now and I had hiked well over 25 miles.  I received a hitch by a young man name Ethan who will be playing football (offensive lineman-long snapper) at Nebraska in the fall.  Ethan's aunt was a former UCLA cheerleader and a former Laker Girl.  Ethan told me he and his buddy were camping at Buckeye Camp.

" No wonder", I thought.

Gravity had pulled me upon Buckeye Camp today.  I was directionless for a reason.  I am from Ohio.  Ethan also told me that cows were invading the campsites.  How funny!  Apparently, cowboys were trying to steer them back to their fenced-in meadow.

Personally, I'm glad they were set free.  I would still be trying to head north otherwise.  When Ethan dropped me off at the Best Western in Bridgeport, I thanked him and wished him luck.  As my luck would have it, there was a no vacancy sign.  I reserved a room at The Walker River Lodge instead which is very nice.  I ate a Marie Callender's frozen dinner, took a long hot bath, and phoned home.  What a day!