The morning I wrote my last post I was relaxing at Hiker Heaven (the home of the well known trail angels the Saufley’s in Agua Dulce). While my body was enjoying the rest, I was enjoying the company of lots of other hikers, many of whom I’d never met before. Due to all of the snow this year, many who had set out to attempt a thruhike have since changed their plan to instead complete a string of section hikes along the trail, and because of this, many of the hikers I overlapped with at Hiker Heaven had seen different parts of the trail than I had. It was thrilling to hear stories from those who had been southbound section hiking–a glimpse into the future. No snow to worry about until Walker Pass which was nearly 200 miles ahead at PCT mile marker 650, but as a trade-off, other reported that the heat to come would be crushing. We were in the true desert again, meaning low elevation, scorching temperatures, long waterless stretches, very little shade and creepy critters like scorpions and rattlesnakes. The super bloom would continue but hiking in the middle of the day when the sun was at its hottest would be foolish. Alyssa and I decided we would leave Hiker Heaven in the late afternoon. The miles immediately after leaving Agua Dulce included lots of climbing and attempting that at the peak of the sun’s power sounded miserable.

Alyssa and I said goodbye to our new friends and left the Saufley’s home around 3:30 p.m. on Apr. 8, my sixteenth day on trail. My dad was meeting us in Tehachapi the following Saturday meaning we had less than a week to hike 104 miles—a faster pace than we’d been hiking. My goal was to hike at least 10 miles that day which would then give us 94 miles to complete in 4.5 days (I wanted to get there no later than noon on Saturday) which seemed like an appropriate challenge. A big part of why I wanted to do this hike was to challenge myself and push my body to the limit, so I was excited to complete a string of 20+ mile days to get to Tehachapi. I am much taller than Alyssa so my strides are longer, and leaving Agua Dulce I made the decision to go my pace rather than Alyssa’s and meet up with her at camp later. I ended up hiking around 11 miles that afternoon: first climbing up switchbacks along a cluster of beautiful green rolling hills, followed by winding down through a small forest and then along a ridge overlooking a lake as the sky produced a brilliant red sunset (the most magnificent I have seen on trail so far), and ending with 3 miles in the light of my headlamp. Nighthiking scares me and it seems the wilderness is suddenly filled with more scary things—every bush could be a poodle dog bush or poison oak and every noise in the distance could be a mountain lion—but I enjoyed those 3 miles of fear. Pushing myself. I set up my tent, ate 2 tortillas and an avocado, and Alyssa arrived just before I fell asleep.

We woke up early the following morning (day 17) and set out with a goal of crushing 24 miles that day. I was filled with adrenaline all morning and equal amounts of climbing and descending made the miles feel fairly easy. I had been bracing myself for the brutal heat the other hikers at Hiker Heaven had warned me about, but there was strong gusty wind all day that kept us fairly cool. At a break in the middle of the day, I turned my phone off airplane mode and got a text from my dad alerting me that the mountain range we were traveling through was expecting a windstorm that night. The one night on the trail with strong winds I’d experienced thus far had been extremely scary with my tent curving so much in the wind, I thought the poles would snap, so this news made me extremely uneasy. Alyssa looked up the wind forecast and my stomach sank further: 40 mph gusts would be setting in around 8 p.m. and the wind currently battering us (which was scaring me enough) was only 21 mph. Yet we climbed on because we did not have a choice. As we got later into the evening I became tired and allowed my mind to run wild with fear, but when we got to the area we intended to camp in, we searched long and hard until we found a decently sheltered spot and though we could hear the storm violent above us, the wind that reached us didn’t feel much worse than what we were used to. I may have shed a few tears out of exhaustion and fear that day, but we set a new mileage record and covered 23.48 miles that day.

The following day (day 18) we would be passing the 500 mile marker which was cause for celebration even if Alyssa and I hadn’t hiked all the miles up to that point, but that excitement helped get us moving in the morning. The winds made it extremely cold so we hiked fast all morning, and I didn’t take off my wind/rain jacket all day. So much for the scorching heat we’d been warned about. While the wind was annoying at times, I think I prefer it to 115 degree days. At Hiker Heaven, I’d met a guy named Serena Williams (Swill) who had been Alyssa’s hiking partner for her first 14 days before I arrived on trail, and he caught up with us a few miles before we reached mile 500. We all hiked together for the rest of the day, capping out our miles at 21.47 and collapsing exhausted onto a small rocky beach by a river. Somehow we were extremely sheltered from the wind, meaning we were at a low elevation without uncomfortable winds and the temperature was actually ideal for sleeping comfortably, and we exhausted hikers were able to cowboy camp (without a tent, just in our sleeping bags on our mats under the stars) for my first time on trail. I look extremely cold in the following photo, but I wasn’t. I was just a happy, exhausted, bundled up burrito.

We camped 7.5 miles away from Hikertown—a small hostel and hiker friendly village just off the trail near Lancaster, Calif.—which was another iconic PCT stop that I was very excited to reach. The miles on the way there in the morning (day 19) were relatively flat and lined with more wildflowers, and there was lots of wind but it wasn’t uncomfortably strong, which made for an extremely enjoyable several hours.

Hikertown was extremely adorable and everything I wanted it to be. The groundskeeper Bob welcomed us when we arrived and told us we could borrow the van to head to the nearby market if we wanted groceries, burgers or coffee, and gave us a quick tour of the place. I wish we’d pushed harder the day before and slept at Hikertown but I’m glad we at least stopped. The property had lots of small buildings that were all painted to look like a little town: there was a jail, a church, a school, a post office and many other little buildings. That little place filled me with so much joy and also pride as it reminded me who I was—a hiker—and how amazing that was. I couldn’t resist the urge to let my hiker trash side explode out of me when I saw a wooden sign by a cactus that was tastefully painted with the word ‘TRASH,’ so I put on my leopard print laundry dress and posed with the sign for some Hiker Trash Vogue worthy photos. It was empowering.

The three of us (Swill, Alyssa, Me) then filled up on water and set off again. The next several miles we walked along the Los Angeles Aqueduct, which is an infamously miserable stretch of the trail when temperatures are scorching (which they usually are), but which were quite pleasantly cool for us. We were able to deeply enjoy the scenery: the many flat miles before us that were lined with wildflowers and joshua trees, the small mountains in the distance and the moody, slightly ominous cloud-blanketed sky. We hiked 14 more miles after Hikertown, all of them flat and lovely, and set up camp in the most sheltered place we could find as extremely high winds were forecasted again. This was the true desert however, and no shrub offered much protection, but I staked my tent down well and lined it with rocks and hoped for the best. On a dare, I hugged a joshua tree and in case you weren’t aware those are very pokey and I wouldn’t recommend trying it.

The following morning (day 20) was Friday and I wanted to leave no more than 10 miles for Saturday, but we only had to go 17 miles to make that happen so we weren’t in a huge rush to leave camp. We would be walking through another windmill farm that day and for some reason those are extremely lovely, and that combined with the promise of town the next day kept all our spirits high. It was another windy day, I hiked in pants, my wind/rain jacket and gloves and was still cold which I found rather ironic. But the windmill farm, flowers and army of clouds were so lovely I didn’t mind the frigid sting of the wind. As I sit here now, writing and reflecting, I am overcome with gratitude and joy that walking all day, one with the beauty of nature, is my reality. The landscape was golden and rolling, and the tall grass rustling in the wind created texture in the monochrome background: depth to the picture already created in it’s first layer. Paint splatters of violet, periwinkle and yellow wildflowers, plus the neon orange explosion of California poppies flooded the hills: more color, texture, pattern—depth—to the art I found myself immersed in. Tall white windmills too straight and stiff to be of nature erupt from within the flowers, bold but beautifully purposeful interruptions to the rhythm of the scene, another splash of depth. To my left a solid blanket of gray, heavy-bellied clouds rested low—stretching to the ground—in some places having completely erased the mountains it covered, the final layer and finishing touch. I was, and still am, completely in awe at how gorgeous the harmonious union of man and nature can be when it is carried out with the integrity of the wilderness in mind.

We stopped for lunch by a little river and our first water source since Hikertown which was over 25 miles ago and the cool water was so refreshing. Even though the wind keeps us from overheating, the air is very dry and I find myself feeling dehydrated often. Water is heavy weighing in at 2.2 pounds per liter, so I have grown accustomed to carrying less than I need and rationing water along the way. When I come to a water source I then “camel up” (chug a liter or two of water), a sweet reward for all of my hard work to get there, before filtering more water, filling up my reservoir and continuing on. That day we stopped longer than we usually do for lunch, elated from the beauty of the miles we’d covered that day, and I drank three liters of water during our break so I wouldn’t have to carry much more for the final 16.6 mile push to Tehachapi. Sitting beside the little babbling brook, basking in the sunshine and company of my friends, cooled by the wind, drinking my fill of clear water and allowing my muscles to rest, all the little acts of self care have come to mean so much more to me over the course of this journey.

The afternoon miles felt harder than the morning ones as we climbed up high into the mountains again, but we took several short breaks and kept pushing on. We passed and chatted with different groups of south bounding section hikers and seeing new people always helps boost morale as well, yet mentally I continued to find those miles quite taxing. At mile marker 549, we came across trail magic—a massive water cache, basket of apples and box of caramels—and ended up camping nearby. It was about a mile earlier than we’d planned on stopping, but it would leave only 9.48 miles to Tehachapi Willow Springs road in the morning and I was completely exhausted, so stopping early seemed like the right move. It was, we were rewarded with a magnificent sunset.

Eager to get into town, the three of us woke early on Saturday morning (day 21) and packed up quick despite the fact that it was barely over 30 degrees outside. I don’t keep my trekking poles inside my tent and when I grabbed them to begin hiking, I discovered that they had been gnawed on by some critter (who enjoys the taste of salt from sweat) overnight, which was a fun surprise to start the day. Despite living in the wilderness I haven’t seen as much wildlife as I anticipated, so the chew residue was a good reminder that we are guests in the home of wild animals.

The 9.48 miles were mostly downhill, and mostly a comfortable and gentle grade downhill. We walked through more windmills and joshua trees and the trail beneath our feet alternated between sand and dirt, and about three hours after we’d began hiking we made it to Tehachapi Willow Springs road. My dad was running behind schedule but a Tehachapi trail angel happened to be there refilling the water cache, so she gave us a ride into town and dropped us off at a bakery to wait for my dad. The town indulgences began.

It was really wonderful to see my dad and to not have to take care of myself for a day. We stayed in a nice hotel and I took a long hot shower, and afterwards soaked my damaged hair in olive oil before showering again. We went out to a good sushi restaurant and simply spent time relaxing. Time with my dad, hot showers, clean clothes, warm food and a real bed. It was so luxurious and I felt like a real princess.

After my dad left on Sunday, Alyssa and I continued to chill for the rest of the day, taking our first “zero” or day with zero hiking miles. My knee had been hurting a lot and the rest was much needed. On Monday morning (day 23), Alyssa and I called Brenda—the trail angel who we’d met the other day–and asked her if she would help us “slackpack” the eight mile stretch from Tehachapi Willow Springs road to Highway 58. Slackpacking is where someone else carries your pack for you and it’s much easier to hike without thirty pounds on your back, so we were elated at the opportunity. Brenda came and picked us up and then kept our bags in her van while we hiked, and at the end of the eight miles she treated us to dinner as well. Another wonderful soul saving PCT hikers.

I was extremely energetic and excited at the beginning of our slackpack adventure because it was such a treat to hike unencumbered by the weight of my pack. However, those good feelings didn’t last. My knee had been worrying me for some time and I had considered going home with my dad (Tehachapi is less than three hours from my hometown) and taking a week off to rest, but ultimately had decided against it, and after only one and a half miles of slackpacking I realized that was a mistake. The pain in my knee had me in tears. I wasn’t carrying a heavy pack. I wasn’t doing a steep climb. I wasn’t sliding on snow or sinking in sand. The level of pain didn’t make sense to me, and I knew I had to take a bit of time off if I didn’t want it to get worse.

I took a bus home that night and have been resting at home ever since. Today is day 35 of my adventure and as I am writing this I am one hour from getting back on trail. Finally. Resting was extremely difficult, but I know my body really needed it, and I’m just so grateful the hiatus is over and I am back where I belong.

I am getting back on the trail where I left off in Tehachapi. Kennedy Meadows, the official gateway to the Sierras, is 144 miles from where I am now. Once I reach Kennedy Meadows I will determine if it safe enough for me to enter the Sierra’s now, and if it is not, I will re-evaluate my plan and find some section on the trail that I can jump to and begin hiking.

This journey looks nothing like I thought it would. I am completely in love with journey and the way that it has continued to evolve. When I get to Kennedy Meadows, I will post again and announce how I will proceed. Until then, happy trails.