Washington Retrip

I haven’t even taken my first trip to Washington, and I’m already considering a retrip later this year. There are parts of the Washington section of the Pacific Coast Trail that seem perfect for a fall saunter, and I’m not sure I want to wait another year to set foot on the trail. (Perfect because of weather. Perfect because of available water. Not having to carry as much water as in the desert would make a trek so much easier.)

By having to cut my trip short and come back before Memorial Day (I promised my dance teacher I’d try to be back to do a belly dance performance at the local college, the same place where I destroyed my arm), I will miss out on a second Washington backpacking trip. The original plan was a night or two in the wilderness to make sure it’s what I want to do, and then a longer trip the following week for a wilder adventure. It’s that second trip I still want to take, so if I head back to Washington in the fall, I will get another chance at a “supported” hike.

Presently, because I live not far from the trail, I could take a taxi to the nearest trailhead (assuming, of course, I could get a taxi to take me out that far) and then with no further ado, just start hiking. Not that I want to hike with anyone, but heading out like that on a backpacking trip seems sad. And lonely. (I have to laugh at myself sometimes — I talk about a 2,700 mile hike, and yet balk at a hike that barely makes a blip on the PCT map.)

On the other hand, if I take a train up to Washington, maybe my sister and brother-in-law would be willing to drive me to the trail and even walk a mile or so with me. And meet me at road junctions with food resupply boxes. And pick me up at the end or even in the middle if I have difficulties. (The scariest part of any long hike is the hitchhiking that seems so much a part of the culture. Eek.)

I’d still have plenty of time to do the King’s Canyon National Park trip with my friend who’d be flying in from Texas. We’d get together before or after Washington (since besides lots of trees, she wants to see snow covered mountains, after would make more sense, but either way would work). Which gives me two adventures to plan for! Well, three since I still haven’t taken my May trip.

I feel like such an armchair traveler, talking about things I’m not yet doing. I have to remind myself that I have done things — two months of day hikes in Northern California, a twelve-thousand-mile cross-country trip. But those things now seem long in the past, and one day, these trips (or the planning, anyway) will also be long in the past.

Meantime, there is today. I just got back from five miles in the desert (dripping wet, and not from rain but from the heat and carrying twenty-six pounds), so I better go eat or else I won’t have the strength to go anywhere.

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels UnfinishedMadame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light BringerMore Deaths Than OneA Spark of Heavenly Fireand Daughter Am IBertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Backpacking Practice

If ever I get to thinking I can play with the big kids, all I need is a day like today to remind me that I am still a neophyte when it comes to hiking and such.

I’m having a hard time getting my backpack adjusted correctly, and today I tried to wear it lower on my hips to see if that helps. When I started out this morning for backpacking practice, I actually felt good, so good that when it came time to turn right to do my usual loop in the desert, I turned left. I thought this would be a good day to take a small risk and saunter through a canyon. The canyon wasn’t much of a canyon, perhaps more of gully, and the trail wasn’t much of a trail — it seemed more like a wash, with sand and rocks strewn about as if left from a flash flood. Still, I managed to pick my way through the canyon without too much trouble.

My mistake was thinking the path would turn right and the bottom of the gully and take me back to trails I was more familiar with. Instead, it turned left, and plunked me in the center of what looked like a dump. It wasn’t a legal dump, just a long section of trail that apparently was easily accessed from the highway. (Cripes — what is wrong with people? This is just one of the numerous piles of trash I saw. I can’t imagine the mindset that believes they have the right to jettison their trash wherever they wish.)

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I’d never been to that part of the desert before, and though I knew where I was, I had no idea how to get back to what was familiar. I kept trudging along for miles before I finally ended up where I had originally planned to go, so instead of an easy four miles, I did a difficult seven. Surprisingly, despite carrying twenty-three pounds, I didn’t do too badly. I think I have a blister forming on a toe, some pain in my deformed wrist from using the trekking poles, a bit of chafing on one shoulder (for some reason, I can’t fix the straps while the pack is on), and probably a couple of other minor irritations that will show up later. But nothing major. In fact, it’s similar to how I feel after such a long hike even without the pack.

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Still, there is no way I am ready for a long backpacking trip, especially something like a section of the Pacific Crest Trail where there could be huge distances (not huge for thru-hikers, just huge for me) between legal camping spots. (Parts of the trail are regulated, with rules about where you can and cannot camp.) Even more disheartening, are the sometimes long distances from the trail to resupply points. An oddity about long distance hiking is that you also do a lot of hitchhiking. Um. No. Not me. Hitchhiking is  something I am uncomfortable even mentioning.

So, what this means is that when I attempt a long backpacking trip, I need to go somewhere with no camping rules, somewhere like the backcountry of a national park or forest or wilderness area or BLM land, where once I have my backcountry permit, I can hike until I drop and then camp where I land.

Luckily, today I landed back in my room where I can “camp” in luxury for the night.

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels UnfinishedMadame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light BringerMore Deaths Than OneA Spark of Heavenly Fireand Daughter Am IBertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.