Brother, Can You Spare a Light?
I’ve started to backpack a fair amount in recent years. The more that I hike, the more I discover my unique, personal connection with it. Although lets be clear about one thing, a connection doesn’t mean understanding. After doing the JMT a year ago with a fairly substantial group, I got plenty of time to appreciate various landscapes and attempt to interpret what they meant to me and to the world. After spending so much of my day enjoying such raw perfection and wonder, I felt as though I began to understand it. I began to hike and backpack more frequently after the JMT, almost as if it was my friend. Soon, I planned to squeeze in CA section L of the PCT to my summer schedule. This is a relatively shorter section, stretching less than 40 miles...something which may have helped me out in the long term.
On paper, and in my mind at the time, a 40-mile stretch should logistically be a breeze compared to a 240 mile stretch. Although, all of my previous backpacking had largely been planned by somebody else! Now, I took the reigns with utmost confidence that it would be a smooth ride.
Once I hit the trail with my friend, my same hiking routine ensued, and it was just as calming and centering as normal. Our planned campsite was far closer and far more buggy than I had imagined, so we decided to hike an extra couple miles up to a spring. Once we reached the top, the spring was nowhere in sight, but there was an excellent campsite with a beautiful panoramic view of the valley we had just trekked. Thankfully, up walked a PCT hiker armed with a GPS that confirmed the spring was only 0.4 mile away. We bottled up the spring water and brought it back to our camp for dinner. First day always seems to be the hardest, and I was quite tired. The lower the sun got, the more mosquitoes swarmed above me. We hurried to pack up camp and get in our sleeping bags...(a tad regretful we intentionally didn’t bring a tent). I slept no more than five hours that night, as the mosquitoes’ lullabies kept me awake.
Waking up wasn’t so easy. I finally lugged myself out of my sleeping bag to find my legs and arms littered with mosquito bites. It was definitely time for breakfast. Twenty matches later, we still couldn’t light the gas stove. After a night like that, some oatmeal would have been soothing. We concluded that because of our frantic attempt to outrun the mosquitoes the previous evening, we didn’t think to put the matches somewhere dry, and now they were too wet to light. The problem wasn’t just breakfast, if we couldn’t light the slim amount of matches we had left, we had no fire which meant no boiled water which meant no warm food. We hit the trail and tried the matches 4 miles later...still nothing. Shortly after we lost game 2 with the matches, three angels in the form of human men crossed our path. We chatted a bit until I popped the question, “You guys got any matches?”.
At the time, I was so thrilled to have gotten matches and to have encountered such generosity I would’ve gotten all three of their faces tattooed on my back. This small scare put it instantly in perspective. I wasn’t “friends” with nature, but I still loved nature. The rest of the trail was pretty smooth. I spent more time being grateful for what I had at the time rather than what I left behind. It is an easy trap to fall into, especially when your feet hurt and you miss your dog. However short in length, this trip was rich with many lessons.
How can I be worried about not having warm water in the middle of the woods, and two weeks later I’m complaining because my kombucha was a dollar more expensive than usual and the local grocery store. However unpleasant or pleasant the wilderness may seem, it always seems to find a way to enhance and center the frantic mind of the human.
