May 28
PCT Mile 745-ish

Caught a ride into Lake Isabella with trail angel Root Beer Sue, who is supporting her hiker husband, Eeyore. Picked up resupply, cleaned up, charged up a zillion devices–phone, battery chargers, inReach–and made a plan to get back to the trail 35 miles east the next morning. Kevin had started hiking where Cheryl did and was going to let his thru-hiking son catch up to him in Kennedy Meadows. We caught a $1 Kern County bus to Onyx at 6:10 am. Uh huh, me, I did that. Because it was Thursday, the bus didn’t go all the way back to the trail, so we hitched. Kevin had made a very nice cardboard sign, “PCT HIKERS TO TRAIL.” I barely had time to pet the very first living kitty I’d seen since beginning this hike, when a woman screeched to a halt in the middle of the highway. My age, Beth was so excited to give us a ride that she was literally shaking with joy. Her husband always picked up hikers but we were her first. When she let us out, Kevin went up the trail but I had to backtrack 0.7 miles to restart hiking where I’d left off. Later in Kennedy Meadows, I confessed to Kevin that I gave him a trail name in the hiker registers–Hitch Bait. He likes it.

On this stretch I drank spring water contaminated with traces of uranium, spring water dripping from a broken off, rusty pipe dripping into the usual rotting concrete tank next to the derelict Fox Mill (looks like a gold stamp mill), clear water from a trickle of a algae covered creek and water from a completely empty BLM campground with a single faucet approximately a 1000 miles from the trail ( any of you tracking me now know one of the reasons I seem to wander way off from time to time).

I made it to Kennedy Meadows where I was greeted by friends Noreen from Yosemite, Jim and Tom from LA, Tom’s daughters Colleen and Maggie, and Maggie’s beau Bryson.  We camped and they fed me and Jim brought my new tent, Big Agnes Copper Spur 1, and Noreen gave me food and beer, and at night Maggie and Colleen sang the most beautiful tunes as I lay in my tent, and they fed me some more.  I hung out at the Kennedy Meadows General Store with lots of hikers who tend to take a day or two off to prepare for the big passes of the Sierra.  Bear canisters, mini crampons, warm layers and even more calories are all shipped to this hiker friendly launch pad for the real mountains.

There were rumors and panic amongst some of the hikers.  “Blue Moon and Scarecrow are hitching to Reno, and hiking north from Soda Springs.  They’ll flip back when the snow is gone.”  Umm, really?  “Someone died on Forrester Pass.” “Wow, who? A hiker? A climber?” “We don’t know.  But we’re getting a ride to Mammoth.  We’ll flip back when the snow is gone.”  Lots of hikers just hit the trail to get away from the tension, as others walked in, to be pulled into the rumors and speculation.  No internet, no authority to set it straight. A few hitched the hour to Lone Pine to try to get facts.  One of these, Bender, an AT hiker and someone I’ve known here awhile, I met in Lone Pine as he headed back on trail to tackle the biggest pass, Forrester, and maybe Mt Whitney, after getting good information about weather and snowpack.

Anyway, I said goodbye to my trail angels–thanks again guys!–and headed into the Sierra, at last!  I made my first big goal, I thrived and survived the first 702 miles and am back home in, more or less, the Range of Light.  Granite, water, altitude, trees, mountains for hundreds of miles.  I told Dan, if I die up here, no body retrieval, roll me in a crack and save the kids from having to read “Lonesome Dove” followed by scattering my ashes along the John Muir Trail.  Heh heh, seriously.

May 20, 2015
PCT Mile 652

Hiker Town along the aqueduct to Tehachapi took 2 days, in the overcast and wind. Apparently it snowed higher up and rained in LA. It was good hiking weather. Got a ride into Tehachapi from Big Al (hey wait, a brave soul or two has called ME Big Al) and grandson Aidan. I took his measure and said he definitely owned the name. I signed his hiker register and he was impressed with area code 907. Poor Skunk Ape and Bender in the car with me got no love for their East Coast origins.

Had dinner with a bunch of hikers more or less in my wave: Julien, Dana, Jesse, Marathon John, Puff Puff, Growler and Cool Breeze. We are all really good at eating. The next day, I ran

into Marathon John who asked Spencer if he could add me in the car with the other hikers driving around shopping, for food, of course.

Got back on the trail where I left it at 558.5 and 8 miles later hit the spot where the notorious Cheryl Strayed began her hike. So I was informed by a proud, local, day hiker. Camped at 578, 602, 623 and 646, with a lovely 4 mile diversion down a gully from 618 to pick up 7 liters of water to get me to Walker Pass at 652. After starting with them at 558.5, I finally saw Cool Breeze and The Puff the third night out. How does that happen? I was behind. Ha, they slept in and I somehow sneaked past temporarily.

These past 94 miles were said to be tough and hot with the longest waterless stretch so far. But the overcast helped. And if you drive through this country, what you see is barren, brown and scrubby. When you walk you see wildflowers, purple, yellow, pink and tiny white ones fragrant and humming with honey bees. You see 3 cows with sleek black calves skittering across the trail just like moose, a rattlesnake somnolent on a rock in the trail warming up in the cool morning, and a Desert Cottontail bounding away with its little puff of a tail just like my Manx, Shreddie.

Two nights ago after schlepping the water uphill, rejoining both the PCT and the wind, I found a tent site amongst some Joshua Pines and made dinner. Started to set up the tent in the cold wind, and the shock cord holding the poles together snapped. Jury rigged with a line to a tree, not too secure but got me out of the wind for a bit until I was warm enough to come up with a better solution–run that same line through the poles and tie to each other. Stayed warm that night. Stupid ultralight tent, too delicate, the bug netting tore the first week. No bugs yet so no problem. My friend Jim answered my satellite text ( yay inReach Explorer!!) and is bringing me a proper tent to Kennedy Meadows. So long Fly Creek Platinum, you tiny, flimsy piece of shit.

I said I wouldn’t talk about gear, but it is kind of critical out here. The things I love are my ULA Catalyst backpack, Western Mountaineering Terralite sleeping bag, Thermarest Xtherm Xlite pad and my Brooks Cascadias 8. So far.

I love this trail. I love the people on this trail. Some are ahead, some are behind, and some are new to me. At this point, those of us still hiking have credibility and connections with each other, a shared set of concerns—like the next water source, or who has had some difficulty but is back hiking, or what weather system this set of clouds is bringing to which elevations.

We communicate through the trail registers, writing our name and the date. This is how I know that sweet Rachel, 22, who had to find a doctor in Tehachapi, is back on the trail ahead of me, no longer Chartreuse, now Foothawk. It’s how I know Occupy is continuing 30 mile days in the coolest old school gear you’ve never seen before. It’s how I know too that I’m not the slowest hiker in the wave, some hikers I’ve walked with are not in the registers when I sign. But when they come along, they will be reading my name and cheering, “Alright! Catwater is killing it!”

May 15 PCT Mile 558.5 Forgot to upload my few crappy phone photos with the last post.

May 12
Day 31
PCT Mile 517

I have been amazed by the variety of country we’ve traveled through. 21 dry, hot miles uphill from Cajon Pass, down into the sweet little town of Wrightwood with cool temperatures. Up to the summit of Mt Baden-Powell and a camp site to myself in the pines and cool at 8400′. Had to observe and go around a trail closure to protect those cute and endangered Mountain Yellow-Legged Frogs that Bubba Gump and Ranger had shown me.

Carrying 5 liters of water on a daily basis adds quite a bit of weight and work to my day. In fact, this whole PCT thru-hiking deal is arduous. It’s like running a No. 2 shovel all day, day after day, hiking is hard physical labor. Or running a marathon every day. I am blown away by this army of filthy, stinky, happy, generous, friendly, kind, joyful hikers of all ages. These are athletes. No uniforms, no contests, no pretense. We are all just walking north.

Got snowed on, then got First Tracks the next morning trudging through the evil Poodle Dog Bush, which can give you a rash like poison oak, but without any treatments. The bush colonizes burn areas, a lot of which we’ve been passing through.

Stayed at the Anderson’s, trail angels in appropriately named Green Valley, what a trip. Then another long roadwalk around a fire closure ( trail a mess I guess), and up to a lovely campground where I found Puff Puff, Growler and Cool Breeze. We were soon joined by Recon. There was supposed to be a water tank there but none of us could find it, so by the morning I didn’t have enough water to make a cup of coffee. That is a dire situation. I threw my stuff in my pack and took off before the rest were out of their tents. 5 miles later I found a cistern with a little opening in the concrete top and a few inches of water 12′ below. I was engaged in a laborious process of dipping a weighted bag on a line to gather a liter of water when the others walked up. Recon observed the process and said, “I have half a liter, I think I’ll go to the next water.” Cool Breeze climbed on top and peered into the cistern. “There’s a dead animal in there. Maybe a fox.  Or a cat.” I said something like, “Well I’m going to make coffee and eat my breakfast.” Puff Puff and Growler just looked at me, did I detect a certain amount of alarm in those looks?

Later, I caught up with them all and commented, “That was the best Dead Cat Water Coffee I’ve ever had.” As hiking goes, a few miles later, as he passed me, Cool Breeze kind of nodded politely and said, “Catwater.”

Bingo. Trail name. And I can’t stop laughing about it. Gross, disgusting, unique, funny story. Perfect. Although it is very odd to keep a straight face, so I don’t, when Cypress introduces me to other hikers as, not Alison, but Catwater.

May 1, 2015
Day 20
Miles to date: 321

A little catching up:

There’s weather in So Cal. Hiking out of Idyllwild up Mount San Jacinto, I ran into a few snow banks, which made me glad. Then it started to snow lightly which made me laugh. It didn’t last long but the clouds spoiled the view. Woke up to a frozen water bottle and began the tortuous descent to Cabazon. A long day, 18 miles of downhill in high winds, followed by 5 miles of slogging through deep sand in a head wind. No place to camp by the I-10 but I finally stumbled in to Ziggy and the Bear’s trail angel operation at 6:45 pm, where 14 or 16 fellow hikers were stretched out side by side in sleeping bags in the backyard surrounded by wind breaking fence. Sanctuary! The winds continued the next day along the crest, blowing me off my feet a number of times until I dropped down into Mission Creek and camped in perfect solitude while light rain freshened the air and packed the sandy trail for the next day’s beautiful uphill 22 miles back into the wind. A wicked howling night with a wind chill that made me feel like I was home, followed by a 20 mile day to Big Bear, which was markedly improved by friends Jim, Larry, Tom and Ellen who met me with cold IPAs 4 miles from the parking lot. How cool is that? Beer killed the residual leg pain from the long downhill day, but it’s rather fortunate I had trusty hiking sticks to keep me from tipping off the trail.

The day before Day 1 at Scout and Frodo’s in San Diego. I stayed in a tent with 4 other women and started the trail the next day with them (plus 6 other thru-hikers), including Poppy (Natasha). We somehow found ourselves hiking similar miles and camping and town visiting on about the same schedule.  We  arrived at Big Besr and stayed at the hostel. The next morning she awoke to a foot infection, very sudden, and has left the trail. I will miss her strong, cheerful, and self reliant presence.  Heal well!

Back on the trail at 266, I stealth camped just 14 miles in due to the start necessitated by getting a ride. Then a big 25 because there were no flat spots to put a tent in the beautiful Deep Creek canyon. Glorious day, I saw a coral snake and a black and white striped snake, kind of had to hustle them off the trail. And frogs!

Every day I’m out here is a gift.  I’m even more aware of that since seeing how suddenly my fellow hikers can be sidelined.  In Big Bear alone, Snack Pack left with a pinched nerve in his shoulder, Poppy got an infection, a girl was made miserable by her hiking partner and I heard sweet Bree rolled her ankle badly.  So far I’ve worked through most of the usual aches and pains I expected from the simple act of walking while carrying a backpack day after day.  I am happy.