"I'll just walk fast," I said. "Well, good luck," the dad said, not believing me for a second. When I passed by the spot they had said was so bad, the mosquitoes were almost non-existent. It's all a matter of perspective.
I had just 22 miles left of the PCT, but it would end up being 45, because I had to do an out and back, plus climb up and down a couple of bonus passes from the parking lot. Due to plane snafus (our plane went for a test flight and never came back), I had arrived at Horseshoe Meadows a full 24 hours later than I had planned, which meant the leisurely stroll of my dreams had vanished. But it was somehow fitting. The PCT has never made it easy, and why start now?
|Some nice ponds at mile 755. A JMTer insisted these were called Soldier Lakes. Um, no.|
|Ha ha ha, this gate is not protecting the wilderness.|
|Crabtreee Meadow. So gorgeous, so full of people.|
|Ugh. Oh well.|
I rolled into Chicken Spring Lake, having hiked 18 miles, most of it uphill. The lake was packed with weekenders, noisily clanking their bear cans. One man arrived and pitched his tent right next to the lake, ignoring the regulation of 100 feet distance. He climbed out in nasty red boxers and proceeded to pee right there in full view. People. How I hate them sometimes. I try not to, and then one of them pulls something like this. Come on, folks.
|Last light at Chicken Spring.|
As I headed down Cottonwood Pass I felt...empty. I didn't feel done. I felt like nothing had really happened. Probably it will sink in later. I think? Probably because I wasn't at a terminus, it didn't feel real. On the way home, plane snafus meant I was stranded in LA for a night. I looked around at all the people partying it up in the hotel. I had never felt so alien, so different. I wanted to be back with my people. That feeling has subsided, a little. But I long to get back on a trail.
|Cookie, my friends' cat, celebrated with me.|