It’s disheartening to peck out a blog post on your iPhone in a tent and then lose it to the electronic ether. It’s the capper on a rough day. I continued climbing up toward Wrightwood, gaining about 4000 feet in 12 miles. It was a long, hot tramp, though it’s ended in some lovely pine forest and a charming campsite. The world’s most insanely steep path leads from the camp to a dribbling cold spring, which was used to supplement my dwindling water supply. Thankfully, it’s a short jaunt tomorrow to the highway to meet the family for resupply.
There send to be something about the second day back on the trail. I have only two second days to compare, but that’s one more than most folks get. (I’m praying this phenomenon does not repeat after resupplies or zero days.) The first day seems to go well, but the second brings up all the pains, all the worries, all he frustrations. Physically I’m doing well, but mentally I’ve been all over the place. All the worries about my slow pace, my dragging gait, the immensity of the task before me, my missing my family and the comforts of home… They seem to crowd in and take away the joy I’m looking for out here; right now, it all feels like work. It may just be withdrawal from “regular” life, or a settling-in period, but it’s frustrating. The few other hikers I’ve seen are all young people, powering past me as I lay sprawled beside the trail once more. (One pair of young gents—Handy Andy and Gilligan—did stop to chat briefly and interviewed me about my trail name.)
It feels churlish and ungrateful to even complain about such things after so many years of mooning about and whining about wanting to go, and months of planning and warping my family around this singular dream. At any rate, I’m doing well physically; if I can get the mental on track, I should be well set up, indeed.
Lovely views from up high.
The inside of a real thru-hiker’s tent!