Changes...

Hello everyone- here is the exciting change- a new website! we will no longer be posting on this blog, so redirect your interest and curiosity to thetrailprovides.com for more vicarious PCT action. I guess it's not too super exciting, but I think its easier to navigate and easier for you guys to comment on. Please comment- I know you're reading it, so tell us things. It's fun. Also- there is an updated schedule of our projected kind-of-ish dates.

Oh yeah- Matt is making moves to rejoin me on the trail next weekend for good. Renfro's are going big. Canada or bust.

Days Off- Jenn

I have been home for a few days now, waiting until I meet up with my sister to get back on the trail Wednesday morning at Agua Dulce for a long stretch of desert hiking that will take us through Green Valley, by Lake Hughes, Lake Isabella, through Lancaster (literally through, I think we walk on sidewalks in town), and along an aqueduct to end up in Tehacahapi/Mojave. In total I will be hiking a 79 mile portion with her and I couldn't be more excited. I am thrilled for her to experience a slice of what Matt and I have been part of, and I am also really needing to get back to hiking! The decision to take a few days off was kind of last minute, and I still haven't decided if I'm regretting it or not. Matt had to go back to work after his 3 weeks of vacation, so we knew he would be meeting up with a friend or family member in the LA area to head back to his parents house and figure things out from there. I had started feeling sinus pressure and just all-around not that great in the Cajon Pass area, and I found myself wondering if I wanted to take the same ride back to rest up for a few days. It would also mean skipping 50 miles of hot, dry, waterless desert with overgrown poodle dog bush and poison oak, which I was pretty ok with- but there is still something about skipping even the smallest part of the trail that I know will weigh on me for a while. I figure I can go back and hike it for a few days when I'm feeling up to the poisonous plant battle.

So now I am at the beginning of my third day of and am feeling pretty much the same as when I left, but instead of my nose being filled with bloody green goop my symptoms have trickled into my throat. Oh well. T minus 2 days till I go again, so I guess I'll heal up however I can in the next 48 hours.

Being off the trail has been really interesting in so many ways, and having access to mirrors really has allowed me to see how I've been physically changing. I've lost a few pounds, my hair is becoming sun bleached, and I have absolutely the most ridiculous tan lines from shorts, socks, trekking poles, rings, and anything else you can imagine. Purple toenails. Totally normal on the trail, a little odd in the real world. One of my favorite transformations is how insanely clear everyones eyes are- super white whites, crisp clean irises, dark, deep pupils, and the most beautiful all around reflective quality. It's such a small thing to notice, but it brings about this kind of clarity and calmness to look into everyones eyes and see how the trail manifests similarly in all of us.

 I thought I would be a lot more excited about real life food than I am. I miss the salami and string cheese tortillas with a side of corn nuts for lunch, dried mangos, kind bars, almond butters, dehydrated meals, gatorade, even oatmeal! It is so much simpler to just reach into my sack and pull out whatever is in there to stuff into my mouth. Don't get me wrong, I love real life food when I'm on the trail, since it is such a treat to have something different for a meal, but when the option for anything you can think of for any meal you can think of is out there, it gets a little overwhelming.

I have lots more "housekeeping" things to do today- organize more food boxes, update the blog with the last couple days of hiking (also, check back later for a major change to the site- it will be exciting! I hope), renew my passport, get more salami, drink more coffee, blah blah blah. Fun times.

Days 12-14 - Matt

Day 12 - Ziggy & The Bear's to Mission Creek

We all woke up spooning, basically. The wind had taken it's toll blowing around the patio furniture and even blowing in a new hiker who appeared overnight. His name was Mud and he was hiking SoBo for the hell of it. He gave us high hopes for nice water and scenery in the coming days. Bear was up before the sun and he neatly laid out mini wheats, fruit loops, and Cheerios, while also starting the backyard coffee brewer and placing individually wrapped orange juices on the patio table. Us hikers sat around as the sky turned blue and drank coffee like we'd never see it again. Everyone was complaining about their injuries and I didn't want to play along. We packed up, I tied a bandana around my knee, said quick goodbyes and made our way back to the trail, walking into the windmills which still sat still in the silent morning. 

The knee was still pretty bad but I knew if I made it past the 2 mile marker, I'd make it through the day. That mile marker came and went and with my gimp strut tight I moseyed on. We climbed up and then into and then around a large canyon that brought us to the San Gorgonio Wildnerness. The walls of the canyon grew tall above us and were textured like wrinkled pants. It seemed a large river once powered through here, but now a small creek weaved it's way in and out of very fine bright white sand. Mission Creek was the first natural body of water we encountered. I washed my face and neck in it and watched local girls in ill fitting swim suits hop scotch from boulder to boulder. Jenn and I were taking the day as it came. It was up to the knee. We hit 8 miles and then 14 and everything felt good. The white sand and the sounds of mission creek were soothing. It was like hiking through a Japanese rock garden. At mile 17 I knew we'd have access to the creek for drinking so I pressed on. The sound of water grew louder. I was in one of my dehydration hazes. My stomach growled and I whistled to calm it down. I could see the creek crossing my path in the distance. It wove its way around a beautiful Alder tree that gave shade to a giant naked man. He laid there like the Cheshire Cat seductively draped in a blanket that matched a beard that dropped down to his chest. He shot me a hello and I headed straight for the creek. He caught Jenn's attention with a do-I-know-you bit, but thankfully stayed put as we walked up stream to bathe and filter water. I laid in the creek and let the water work its way over me. It was warm and heated by underground volcanic activity. Jenn let her feet dangle in the water and I enjoyed how the sun reflected off of her legs. We cleaned up, filtered our water for the next 12 hours and went off in search of a campsite at mile 231. After longer than we thought, we found the clearing. It was a perfect little site that sat off the trail about ten feet and over Mission Creek. We positioned the head of the tent down canyon and watched as mountain ranges turned from orange to pink to violet and black. We fell asleep to the rhythm of crickets. 

Day 13 Mission Creek to Arraste Camp

We didn't know what to expect the next day. We hadn't taken the time to look at the maps or elevation, all we knew was that there was 1 water source 10 miles in and one source 20some miles in. We started by climbed our way out of the creek, stopping for our 5 mile snack at a giant oak that someone had left their flip flops under. I took them. We continued up very loose climbs that cut through manzanita and scrub oak. In sections trees and shale had fallen making moving at a mile per hour feel extreme. A few hours in, I passed a message in the dirt fashioned with pinecones. It said "BIPOLAR". I contemplated it briefly and then moved on. Eventually I arrived at the spring camp for water. Spring camps are hit or miss. Up until now, a spring camp has meant a horse trough, but today, it was something much nicer. Tucked away about a quarter mile off the trail was a natural spring that dripped from rocks above into a blue bucket. It smelled and tasted like candy and it was so cold Jenn and I had to take turns filling the bottles because our fingers would go numb. 

We had 15 miles still infront of us. Our carrot was a cache we'd heard about on Onyx Summit in Big Bear. Once we were free from that middle of the mountain blandness and into the pines we were flying. We knocked off 10 more miles with ease and then starting hearing traffic on Highway 18 below. We approached a fire road. To our left was a small cache. An empty box of soda and a sun baked bottle of water left graciously by papa smurf. Not quite the carrot we had hoped for but it got us here and that's all that mattered. A bit bummed we continued on. I was craving a Dr. Pepper. We walked uphill for 2 miles and we'd had enough. We were 22 for the day and our eyes began to scan the bushes for flat spots to set camp. Dazed, I came around a corner and saw what looked like a dumpster. It seemed an odd place for a dumpster. On the front of the dumpster was spray painted: PCT MAGIC. Next to the dumpster was a couch. I opened the dumpster and magic was in side. 5 racks of soda, cookies, fruit, baby wipes. I grabbed a Dr. Pepper, sat on the couch and genuinely believed life couldn't get any better. 5 minutes later Paul walked up. It was his turn to restock the cache. He told us this was courtesy of the Big Bear Adventure Hostel. 

Day 14 Arraste Camp to Big Bear Adventure Hostel 

We'd left ourselves only 10 miles to hike. We needed a break and with a quickly approaching snow storm, a zero day in Big Bear sounded perfect. We hiked the 10 miles and popped out in a turnout on Highway 18. We were on a blind curve and I worried it'd be hard to hitch, but Jenn's shorts came through again! A nice couple on their way to Vegas swooped us up, listened to our stories, told their own, took us to the post office and then to the hostel but not before making us promise we'd send them a postcard from Canada. We arrived at the hostel around 11. Sarge checked us in, told us the rules, offered us edibles and then showed us our room. We skipped the shower and went straight for a late breakfast and coffee. We spent the rest of the day in our laundry clothes watching other hikers getting in before the storm. That night we went out for Mexican food and margaritas to celebrate how far we'd come. I had 8 beers before that though so I couldn't eat much. The cold air sobered us up and we returned to the hostel to watch top gun with a bunch of strangers. 

Day 18- Jenn

At the end of day 18, I am exhausted and feel so good. We busted out some huge mile days leading up to today, and now I'm feeling it. Day 16 took us out of Big Bear and into the back mountains. We started out with 6 other hikers and felt like it was major party time, since there was also booming bass and rave music coming from somewhere yonder. We all thought we were going a little kooky until someone finally asked if anyone else heard it. It went on for as long as we walked. It grew fainter as we dropped into canyons and crossed mountain tops, and then cranked back up when we got closer to the source that we never found. I don't know if it was the snow, amazing views, great company, or good music, but we were cruising at an amazing pace with 18 miles done in no time. I don't know what our initial goal was, but we felt good so we kept on going. Our first couple of water sources were dry, but we did find an awesome toilet in a wooden stall in the middle of nowhere. We hiked and hiked until we didn't feel like hiking anymore, so we set up camp in a boulder field and watched the sun go down while our dinners rehydrated. 24 miles done. Boom. Day 17 was pretty epic, mainly because of the healing powers of the Deep Creek hot springs and naked old men wearing white tshirts. Seriously though- it was magically healing. We made it to the pools at around 2:30 and hung out for about an hour. It wasn't crowded, which I hear can be a problem, but it was a Monday so I guess that made sense. In the course of an hour I was offered "medicine" twice and saw more wiener than I wanted to, but it was a much needed stop for our tired bodies. We left feeling great, hiked out of the Deep Creek area and into another creek where we met a self proclaimed Reptile Guy who lives in a trailer on the northern end of the creek, trains hunting dogs, and in his free time collects data on reptiles and amphibians in the area. He gave us water, told us all about the rubber boa and mountain snakes he found, and warned us of the hot uphill stretch to come. Ha. Clearly he didn't know that we had been walking for 2 weeks. We thanked him and moved on, settling at 29 miles in a campsite tucked into the trees. This morning brought the aftermath of a 29 mile day and dealing with new pains made the day frustratingly slow. Things picked up a little bit when we came upon a trail magic ice chest with water, oranges, hard boiled eggs, and Cadbury cream eggs. I had been craving Cadbury cream eggs for the last 150 miles- and as we have discovered, the trail provides. We went up and down and all around the Silverwood Lake area, then back up and out of Silverwood Lake area. It was long and hot, and all we wanted was the Mc Donald's and hotel at the end of the day. It seemed like it would never come, but then it was in sight. And then we were inside. And then we ordered. And then I went to the bathroom. And then my mom and dad walked in and called us hiker trash. Probably the best surprise ever! My mom is obsessively following my tracking device so they planned to drive 1.5 hours from their house to surprise us at the end of the day. I had never been so happy to see them, and I'm petty sure no one noticed, but I definitely teared up. So we ate our mc flurries and fries and told them stories of the trail, then got a ride .5 miles to the hotel (gotta save the walking for the trail) to begin bathing and relaxing.  So now I am bathed and relaxed and all blogged out- so I'm gonna go. Thanks. 

Day 16- Jenn

So many days are not being documented in a timely manner, but without consistent service, being insanely tired, and all the days melding into one, it's surprisingly difficult to separate them and write about 'em. So today is day 16 and we are just about to cram into some sort of vehicle that will hold 7-9 hikers and our bags for a ride back up highway 18 to hop back on the trail at mile 266 out of Big Bear with Cajon Pass being the next "town" stop in 70 ish miles. Between there we have Deep Creek hot springs in about 40 miles which I am really looking forward to. We have spent the last 2 nights at an awesome hostel in Big Bear with a few other hikers just relaxing by a fire and bonding over our trail experiences. A few days ago when hiking through a super hot and forever stretching, mostly dry river bed we stumbled upon a large red bearded man with a tie dye head scarf layed out under a beautiful tree barely covered by an orange sleeping bag. As we walked by we quickly introduced ourselves and kept going since there was a creek nearby to rest in, and I thought he was naked. For the next 2 days Matt and I referred to this man who introduced himself as "Uke" as the Creek Keeper and kept replying the brief and entertaining interaction. He ended up being at the hostel with us and cooking wonderful pasta, pancakes, and supplying some ukulele action inbetween. We also had the pleasure of staying with Hot Foot, In The Weeds, Murt, Mike, Raging Bitch ( possibly the   sweetest person ever), Cliff, Darren, Tarzan, and a bunch of others I'm probably forgetting. We arrived in Big Bear early Friday afternoon and decided on a zero day based on our bodies pleading, in addition to the rumor of a few inches of snow Friday night. We immediately ate, drank coffee, showered, and ate some more before getting settled into the couch by the fire and relaxing. as the night went on a few more people arrived thankful to be out if the cold and getting colder night. We drifted to sleep in our lower bunk bed with Raging Bitch (or suasage toes, or flip flop, or just Caty) above us, and woke up to a winter wonderland of white powdery snow. Our minds immediately went to our hiker friends that we hadn't heard from since Idyllwild, but knew where nearby, hoping the made it into town before the snow. As the day unfolded we met up with people we hadn't seen in days and listened to their stories of the last 80 miles, got on a bus going in the wrong direction for an hour and a half ride back to the hostel, and ate and ate and ate. I made calls and heard voices from what seems like an eternity ago that made me homesick, nostalgic, comfortable, and more motivated than ever to keep going. Hearing those voices I love reminded me how lucky I am, and how lucky I have been. The end.

Day 11 - Matt

"It's all downhill from here" is an expression used in non-hiking life as an omen of disaster. For some reason this expression is used in the opposite way while hiking. As if everything being downhill will somehow make the rest of your miles easier. I have proven this expression wrong, time and time again on this trip, though I wouldn't see the results for another half day. 

So everything was downhill. And we fought our way through mountainside scrub brush, down dizzying switchbacks, and woozily admired blooming desert roses, Lillies, Indian Paintbrush, Sage, and a gathering of many other types of wildflowers I'll never know the names of. We reached the ground floor around noon and walked towards the highway. In the distance we saw a small community of houses. Between us and them was 4 miles of ankle deep sand, an endless stack of railroad cars, and wind so powerful my depleting body could lean deeply into it and imagine itself to be Michael Jackson in his prime. The wind was relentless and took pity on nothing, not even the trail, and footprints that would normally lead us through unmarked sections had been blown away by first light. Over the last year I've learned a lot about adaptation. This trail continues my education as it's made my eye keen to subtleties I would have once been blind to. Unnatural shapes, stacks of rocks, colors that you instinctually know shouldn't exist in these settings, all lead the cleverly lost down a path that doesn't need to be there, to be there. 

Within the 4 miles I found a lost hiker. He was walking towards me and when he saw me turned around and walked the other way. It wasn't long before he stopped and admitted he'd lost the trail. He was wearing glacier goggles and a blue spandex shirt that held his belly over his hip belt like a deflated balloon. Once again, I was inspired by this person for being here alone. I told him to keep on our tail and we'd make it through. Within 50 yards he'd fallen off but I'd spot his bright blue spandex every so often and knew he'd eventually wander out of the wall-less maze. We came upon Interatate 10 and I took a moment to pause within a sandstorm to watch the cars speed by, and the windmills spin in the distance, and freight train conductors humping cars each time with a loud crack that was dampened by walls of wind. A straight object caught my eye. It was an underpass. The trail pushed over sanddunes and into the tunnels where a trail angel had left cookies and apples. I ate two cookies and held the outside of my knee as it pulsed with a pain new to me. I coerced Jenn to keep moving. We were now walking down a trail that split a neighborhood down the middle and towards the back was the Trail Angel house of Ziggy and The Bear. We arrived to a vibe I can only describe as somber. Trail books had told of foot scrubs and dinner with overly eager to please Trail Angels. In front of us were 3 men in their fourties sitting 10 feet apart stating at nothing, a couple who'd called it quits, and en elderly but sharp man who introduced himself as the bear. He was short and round and grumbled when he spoke. He grabbed my hand and my shoulder and sat me down. He handed me blue flavored Gatorade and rattled off the rules of the place. He told us we were welcomed to stay but in the same breath asked when we planned on leaving. "The name of the game is Hike On", he growled. Ziggy was inside watching TV and their neighbor, Carol, went from person to person taking orders for Burger King. The Bear told of his close relationship with the manager of Burger King, the employees of the post office, the town Sherrif, and his distaste for the staff of the local Enterprise rent-a-car.  

Jenn and I had arrived 4 days ahead of schedule and would miss a vital resupply box. I shared this with Bear, half hinting I needed a ride to the grocery store though part of his rules stated that no rides would be given. For some reason he took a liking to me and he made an exception in exchange for help with the hiker mail. I obliged and off we went down a frontage road that ran along Interstate 10. I only remember one conversation; There'd been three men named Jason in his family. His brother, his youngest son, and his youngest son's son. All Jasons had died. His family decided to never name another member Jason. The new name to pass down would be Paul because Paul had lived the longest. 

I walked back into Bear's carpet covered yard and ate a lukewarm Whopper.  The couple who'd quit left Jenn with their food and that combined with the pepperoni and tortillas I purchased would fuel us through the San Gorgornio wilderness. With 4 hours of light left I decided we should hike on. And so after showers inside a shed and a fast food lunch we packed up and walked into yellow-orange light. My head spun like the windmills in the distance, unable to keep up with everything new it had experienced over the last 11 days. 2 miles flew by with the desert winds pushing from behind and in the moment when those winds stop for the briefest time as the sun drops below mountain peaks and the world goes silent, my body told me to stop. It would not let me take another step forward. The pain in my knee that had been burried under excitement revealed itself again under the familiarity of steps down a trail. I fought it and it fought back, sucking the air from my lungs and bringing over me a pain induced nausea. 

Over the last few years, but specifically the last 12 months, finishing things I start is no longer optional. I've let go of too much and have condemed myself to a life of being good at a lot but great at a lot less. I decided I was tired of the scales  tilting that way and even if I were to never be great at a single thing, I'd see my journies through to the end. But what happens when your body revolts? I began to panic, and I sweat feverishly, and Jenn tried to convince me to turn back but I couldn't muster the courage to turn face on the wilderness infront of me. This journey, even in its relative youthfulness had already been so significant I cried at the thought of leaving it against my will. I sat in the dirt for 30 minutes while Jenn paced around and knew that what she said wouldn't be heard, but she said it anyways. I propped myself up on trekking poles like crutches and hobbled my way back to The Bear's. Two other hikers had arrived. One threw me tiger balm and Bear brought me a bag of ice. 

I willed myself into healing and had silently committed to continuing in the morning painfully or not. The evening was a mix of trail gossip and laughs before everyone cowboy camped like puzzle pieces.

The wind blew hard that night, but I wouldn't have slept anyways. Each time I'd straighten my leg my sleeping pad would blow away from underneath me and I'd claw to get it back. I held Jenn's hand until she couldn't stand the wind and crawled beneath a couch and a table to spend the rest of her night. I remained in the path of madness for it kept me calm. 

Day 11- Jenn

We woke up from our blustery magical night in the boulders on a mountain top to descend probably 10 miles straight down into Cabazon. Downhill is hard. Harder than uphill. Sometimes. The trail was overgrown in places and although beautiful, every purple flower induced a mini panic attack from Matt with the assumption that it was Poodle Dog Bush. It didn't help that we could see exactly where we were headed for hours, with dozens of switchbacks between us and the water tank/faucet with the promise of quenching our thirst. We passed the 200 mile mark which didn't really count because of the 30 mile tail closure we had to hitch around. Our goal was a trail angel house run by a couple known as Ziggy and the Bear, with the hopes of at least an additional 8 miles beyond that to get us closer to Big Bear. We heard that they would do Burger King runs and epsom salt foot soaks if the mood was right. Upon completion of the never ending descent we were faced with a 3 mile flat section that ran straight through wind turbines. Which meant lots of wind. And sand. And a full body exfoliation. Thanks Cabazon. We passed under a bridge that offered trail magic of cookies and apples and the remnants of soda and beer. And a large orange snake. We hobbled into Ziggy and the Bears sometime in the early afternoon where we were greeted by a few fellow hikers and the Bear himself. A friendly old man who had us sign in and take our pictures for his PCT scrapbook. We chatted for a few minutes and explained that we were supposed to pick up our next batch of food from Matt's parents in Palm Springs according to a predetermined meet up that we were 4 days too early for. We were stuck in Cabazon with really no option to resupply unless the Bear agreed to take one of us to the market. Which he did- so Matt got salami nuggets, pepperoni sticks, and tortillas. Luckily, and also sadly, a couple was leaving the trail at Cabazon and gave us the food that would have taken them to Big Bear. We also got some whoppers. After showers and eating, we set out to hike 8 miles to the White Water Preserve for camping- but 2 miles into it Matt started having some knee troubles and couldn't really walk anymore. After a few minutes of debate- we decided it was better to go back to the house and rest for the night than risk it and push forward. The thought of him injured and having to leave was probably the worst feeling that either of us have had- trail or not. Ending this adventure with an injury is a thought nobody wants to entertain- but it's always a possibility. We slowly hobbled back to the house where the Bear brought out a bag of ice and a hiker offered Tiger Balm to ease the pain. Hiker midnight (8:00) came quickly and we grabbed our sleeping spots to cowboy camp in the yard, partially sheltered by the howling wind. As we drifted to sleep, lawn chairs started flying around the yard and we wiggled around like little caterpillars to find safer spots. All I cared about was Matt's body letting him continue on in the morning, and my shoes not blowing away. But we never got a foot soak.