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Lake Morena
to Mt. Laguna |
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April 25, 2010 A good night's sleep and sheer anticipation coaxed me out of my sleeping bag on another icy-cold morning. My toes chilled as I slipped my frozen trail runners on. Normally, people were snuggled deep in thick bags of fluff this early. But, this morning was filled with bustling people already packing up for border-bound shuttles. Bagpipes filled the cold morning air with song as I strolled over to meditate on what was and what was to come. 15 minutes later, I sauntered over to my tarp in my trance and woke Amber just before the final breakfast of the kick-off.
We packed most everything before making a dash over to the picnic tables. Breakfast included the typical fare of eggs and bagels, but also many varieties of fruit that Amber had no problem devouring even though she never eats so early at home. After stuffing ourselves, we finished packing our bags before heaving them onto our shoulders. We then walked to the many sites, reluctantly saying goodbyes to friends, not knowing if we were to ever see them again. Hugs, along with various forms of information, were exchanged before walking away from our site, our home, not saying a word as I recalled something Suge told me about relationships on the trail. He was right, and we were barely more than a step towards Canada.
We hiked away from the lake in silence, noting little things along the trail to keep the melancholy at bay. Amber knew what leaving meant and, indirectly, it was a good thing as the longing that plagues me throughout the year would encompass her thoughts the same. She was hooked on the life.
The miles went quickly and our dour moods lifted as the sweat dripped from our brows. The day was actually resembling something desert-like for the first time on the trip. We took a break and gazed at the windmills far on the horizon while sipping Gatorade. I watched Amber drink the orange liquid, studying her facial expressions after drinking. A stranger would not have been able to tell, as the movement was too slight, but I saw it. It was a smile.
My mood lightened with each step in the warming sun as did Amber's. Amber and I sang out loud, naturally, as one can get away with it out here, letting Casting Crowns, RED, and Jeremy Camp scare the crap out of all the little creatures trying to find peace while sunning. Really, we did not sound that bad since there was no one around to compare our voices with real music.
Slightly embarrassed, we quickly came upon a stocky, smiling man and abruptly stopped singing. Jim was his name as he let out a boisterous "You guys' sound great, man! God bless you guys!" I liked Jim and talked to him while as we made our way down to, and over, Cottonwood Creek. The smile on his face, while enjoying his time on the trail, filled me with a delight that is really hard to explain. Maybe I understood it because Amber and I were in the same state of mind, or maybe it was because we all had a common love of what we were doing.
Amber and I stopped for a break under a large cottonwood tree so I could hack out a couple pieces from her shoes that were giving her feet some trouble. It was as beautiful here as I remember. The soft, hissing breeze gently moved the large cottonwood's branches allowing just the right amount of cool air through, keeping us most comfortable. Ten minutes later, we were under the hot sun again, making our way to Boulder Oaks campground. in 2008, it was hot, very hot, and the water had been turned off at the campground due to contamination. I hoped with all the recent wet weather, we would have something cool to drink once there.
The shade was inviting. The water was cold, flowing from the spigot. I set out all of our gear to dry at an large, open spot before laying down on top of a picnic table. The serenity matched Cottonwood Valley as it was all I could do to keep from drifting off to sleep.
I could not snooze for long as Amber was, once again, hungry. We had some climbing ahead of us, so I whipped up some Alfredo and noodles before filling our Platys. I laid back down and stared high into the trees, listening to their song, deciding that it simply could not get any better than this.
Leaving the campground was hard, but it had to be done. We shuffled under Old Highway 80 and highway 8 before huffing our way up to Kitchen Creek. The breeze picked up along this stretch, cooling us rapidly, evaporating the sweat that had been accumulating down our backs, making our packs feel like they had been filled with ice.
We took a break in the shade and watched the campers far below at the creek. The creek was flowing hard enough to produce shallow waterfalls and people were taking advantage of it, jumping in and doing what locals do in such a place.
A couple of hikers approached us looking wiped out from the heat and we decided we had been there long enough, giving them our spot in the glorious shade. Amber asked where we would sleep this night, but I did not have an answer for her. Mt. Laguna was still a long way off and was unreachable at the pace we were hiking. Long Canyon was feasible, but would still give my little one a 17.5 mile day. I thought this too much and told her "Eh, these things usually work themselves out."
Up we climbed while enjoying the beautiful wild flower displays provided from such a wet spring. Huge swaths along the bottoms of valleys were coated in yellows that were visible from miles away.
Amber and I stopped frequently to let the breeze cool our overheating bodies. My thoughts started to drift back to Lake Morena, to the people, to the relaxation. I thought of the question of where to crash for the night and decided to let fate take hold of the near future. Being the analyst I am, this was a hard concept to grasp and was good for me to practice.
The heat was starting to take it's toll and we began to run out of power. Heat has a way of doing that as it saps the energy from your body no matter what your mindset may be. We took a short break in the shade of a nearby bush and drank a liter of Gatorade between us before setting off towards Kitchen Creek Road.
We crossed the road and I hat a sit while Amber had a squat. I was half temped to take the road to Cibbits Flat Campground, but it was far too early to crash for the night, and the scenery while climbing up Fred Canyon, I thought, was rather good. I was also growing tired of condensation and wanted a quick strike in the morning. The price of such a fine view was a lot of exposure and as we did not have any sunscreen (I had given it all to burnt friend back at the lake), we had to use our bandanas to cover our scorching hands.
We dropped to the crossing of Fred Creek (the guidebook stated was always dry) and found it flowing abundantly. There was a couple of other hikers here so we made our way across the creek to a large, soft area along the creek's shoreline. It was heaven as we laid out on large patch of orchard grass with a thick canopy overhead proving substantial shade from the sun's burning rays.
Amber meandered around looking for anything of interest while I fired up the stove for some ramen. I was hungry and had to study my map for a while to determine if this was as good as a camping spot got in the next few miles. Amber found an enormous beetle, but I made her put it back, insisting it would not taste as good as our ramen with barbecued chick breast.
I treated some water while the noodles made their bubbling noises before laying back and gazing around my environment. It was incredibly beautiful here as there was not one sign of camping, at least, where we were. Still, I got an uneasy feeling and, to this day, I cannot figure out why. Hikers were soon pouring in and tents were set up in every manner possible, but not where we were. Amber and I had a couple hours of daylight left and we both decided to temp fate, making run for a site with less population so close by. We took our time leaving as there were a lot of hikers we had to meet before heading out. One of the hikers, Stumbling Norwegian, told us Amber and I were already known 500 miles up the trail, making Amber's eyes light up.
We huffed our way up Fred Canyon's westerly ridge as the light started to fade, passing a group that was stealth camped in one of Fred Creek's main washes. We both chucked as we heard voices, sounding almost drunk with happiness, say; "That is the father/daughter group! Cool!" Amber had already become a bit of a trail celebrity.
It was getting dark, but we were nearing a saddle which usually means a spot to pitch. The problem I was looking at was brush and lots of it. The terrain flattened out, but the brush was so thick there was not as single place we could push through. Upwards we trudged.
Walking over the saddle, we stumbled upon two ladies that I had met back at the kick-off. The smiles they were wearing willingly forced us to smile as well and we stopped to say our hellos. They were camped right on the trail and apologized, saying they also could not find a place to push through the brush. They asked if we had any extra water as they were running low. I jumped at the chance to continue paying forward what Scout, Cucumber-Boy and Three Gallon had done for us. Needless to say, the two beautiful women were ecstatic for the extra H2o.
We said our goodbyes and continued on. It was getting dark fast as I held back my concern about the fading light. We were trying to make it to Long Creek where I knew there would be a great water source, but it was too far and the light was fading too fast. It just was not in the cards tonight, so I let Amber frolic ahead of me and actively started searching for that elusive campsite.
The trail made a sharp bend, bisecting a medium-sized wash. I told Amber to hold up while I scouted farther the wash before stumbling onto the perfect site. A flat, sandy, elevated wash with enough space for two tents promised a good night's sleep. I yelled to Amber to follow my footprints up the wash before she howled out a powerful yahoo. Up went our tarp and in went our gear. It was incredibly quiet with nary a hint of birds singing or crickets chirping; nothing; dead quiet.
April 26, 2010 No breeze last night meant for a lot of condensation in the morning. A lot of frozen condensation, that is, if you are down in the valley. It was a restful night's sleep, but still damn below-freezing, cold this morning. We packed up with stiff hands, watching our breath float upwards from our efforts through the rays of the early sunrise, before setting off at a rapid pace. We were ahead of schedule now and, as I promised Amber, we would rent a cabin if there was one available at Mt. Laguna. Knowing this made Amber hike at quite a good clip. I tried to talk her down from her anticipation, but all I got in return was a look of sheer focus.
We topped out near the picnic area as our pace finally slowed to something that would allow gazing. I missed this area with it's sparse Ponderosa Pines and swaths of tall, green grass. But this time, we had something else to gawk at. Patches of snow remained in places deep enough to scoop up and eat while we made our way to town. We took a break in the shade with a fellow hiker before Amber stood up, screaming that something was stinging her. "What is heck is that dad?" I lifted her shirt up, over her belly, before diving into my pack, grabbed my first aid kit and carefully pulled out Amber's first tick that was just beginning to latch on. I hugged her, letting her know everything was ok before we shouldered our packs for the final pitch.
A quick climb past the camp sites saw us at the junction to the Laguna store. A scant .4 miles was the distance that stood between us and sitting with our feet up while pigging out on whatever we found, letting the blinking idiot box provide numb entertainment.
The store was just as I had left it. The feeling was surreal as I had not planned on being here again until I was in my 50s. I slowed my pace further to let Amber pass me. I was holding back emotions as this little piece of my history came into view. I was smarter now than before; far more experienced than before; far richer than before, but not in a monetary sense. I felt like life was beginning a new, starting all over for me with new roads I have not traveled down. I walked into the store and instantly recognized the man behind the counter.
I worked out a deal for a cabin before loading up on food. As the restaurant was only open on the weekends, we stockpiled as much food as we thought we would need from now until Warner Springs. We hauled our booty to the home for the night where we sorted, repackaged, divided, and sampled supplies before starting the typical town duties.
The cute little cabin offered everything we longed for. My master bedroom at home was bigger than the entire cabin, but to us, the cabin was a palace. I laid out our gear before cleaning our clothes, twice. Amber made a run for ice cream and chicken burritos while I stripped down, feeling the freezing floor on my sore feet, sauntering towards a steaming bath. I bathed in the hot water for an hour, content. Amber was content as well watching Cartoon Network in between additional store runs for more ice cream, soda, Gatorade, and more burritos.
Pop Tarts, Snickers, Pringles, Corn Nuts and Rice n' Sides were just a few things on the next six day's menu. With all our responsibilities done, there was nothing else to do but write in my journal while periodically looking up at the TV. My feet were sore, but holding up fine as I pondered if I really could live like this for the next four to five months. Glancing over at Amber, who had a look of absolute peace on her beautiful face, told the story. We were here, living deliberately, enjoying very little as it was heaven itself. The pondering did not last long before the answer was revealed.
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