Day Three – The Big Wind Blows

I manage to get up earlier today. My alarm goes off at 51, but I’m “conscious” at 6:30. I’m feeling the effects of last night’s lack of food, and simultaneously feeling like the nonono cat when faced with the prospect of actually eating. So I try to distract myself with other things: treating more water, doing trail laundry, eating more snickers, digging another cathole just in case.

Eating is so hard – why is eating so hard? We’re designed to eat, it’s one of life’s little pleasures, but I stare at that wad of mashed potatoes and veggies and want to cry. I fight off my gag reflex with every bite, manage not to puke the precious calories up everywhere. I feel tears welling up when I remember just how much food I packed – I could easily be a pound lighter if I could only get to a trash can, there’s no way I’m getting through all of this before my first town stop. L2P, noob2 – lesson learned, anyway.

I’m out at 8:30 – it takes that long to stomach the rest of my potatoes and get everything put away. I’ve already been passed by a man with a conical day-glo orange hat – a wince at the cultural appropriation, at least it’s not straw? – and I wonder if I’ll see him again.

I only climb a little before I find a nice campspot, and feel sheepish about having camped like an asshole last night. Up a little more, and down into Funnybone, a Northeast-bound thruhiker whose PCT blog Speshul 41 recommended to me; they’d hiked together quite a ways. It’s a small thruhiking world after all. He’s almost done, 32 miles to go! His smile and encouraging words cheer me for miles, and I begin to finally entertain thoughts of making it to Breckenridge.

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I leapfrog back and forth with the trio from the Springs. The scenery in this section is beautiful, all rocks and trees and glimpses of mountains beyond.

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I catch the three and John – orange hat – at the next water stop, where I try to stop for lunch, but the thunder starts up, early today. It’s a race up up up, catching passing caught up to by John in a small clearing. I decide to set up and wait the storm out, and I’m glad I do – I get wet in the pre-rain, and then into the tent before the downpour, the hail. The inside’s sopping from putting the tent away wet, and I mop with my shirt, my buff, my bandanna, hunkering down in my puffy when I start to shiver. I’m huddled this way when, suddenly, sun.

I lay all my sopping stuff out to dry, lay myself out, too. It’s 4p and I’m about three miles from where I intend to stop, so I decide to go ahead and cook dinner. As I’m finishing, the sun gets weaker – and the thunder begins anew. The weather’s being overdramatic about this whole late summer thing. I shovel 2/3 of my ravioli into my face intermittently, foregoing the pesto, and stuff the rest into a ziploc.

Grab everything, disassemble the tent, helter skelter – I want to make those miles – but it’s not a thunderstorm. The clouds lighten, and the wind kicks up, buffeting me about the trail. The aspens are screaming, creepifyingly, and I’m nervously listening and watching for potential hazards. A tree creaks – cracks? – to my right and I’m hauling down the trail.

I pass up two campsites, Goldilocks again, so many dead trees waiting to fall. The next is down a closed trail, two tents already set up. I don’t want to intrude, but after going a ways further and finding nothing but another uphill, I turn around and set up a respectable distance away. Tim and Chase come out of the tents a short time later – Funnybone told me a father/son duo was ahead of me – happy to share their site in the blustery evening. Welcome to the neighborhood.

My tent’s dry now, the wind still doing its thing outside. I say to myself that I’ve eaten for the day, give my stomach a reprieve. I plan for another short day tomorrow – 11 miles – at the last noted campsite before Kenosha Pass. Planning’s addictive, and I end up thinking a 16 for the day after, a 20 after that. Then it’s 15 into Breck, and that’ll be 100 miles done.

Start: 31.1 · End: 43.8 · Day: 12.7
Notable Accomplishments: Still not dead · Still haven’t lost anything · Set up in rain with minimal wetness to self and stuff


[1] Ambitious, I know. Especially for a Snorlax.
[2] Learn to play, newb. WoW-speak from an era in my life gone by.

8 thoughts on “Day Three – The Big Wind Blows

  1. George Turner (AKA Old Growth) says:

    I’m quivering with excitement to find that you’re a Wow nerd and recognize that newb has to be the proper spelling of that word. I started playing to find out why my eighth graders who played never did there homework. Found the game was like smoking crack… Mystery solved

    My Wow days may be over

    Like

    • Brown Girl says:

      Heh, yeah… I played for four years or so in college. I wasn’t addicted or anything; it was just a nice way to stay connected with friends at home. I quit when I went to India and the internet wouldn’t run it/none of my friends were on when I could be. But I still have fond memories of it.

      Like

      • Brown Girl says:

        Damn. I was out just as Wrath was wrapping up, so I only had 2 level 80s, but I was exalted with a loooot of factions on my main. I wanted that damn hippogryph.

        Like

      • George Turner (AKA Old Growth) says:

        I was a Wrath baby… Loved Wrath. I was going back to whip Arthas’s sorry ass solo 3 or times a week because he still had a mount for me before I started my AT thru. 480 miles in I came home to visit my wife, dogs and grandson and managed to slip on the stairs and tear my rotator cuff. God has a wonderfully whimsical sense of humor

        Like

      • George Turner (AKA Old Growth) says:

        Reading every word of your blog… Probably read Carrot’s CT blogs too. I walk a couple of hours a day, have physical therapy with my dominatrix and watch gobs of trashy tv. How many times can you watch Pitch Perfect before it gets old? Planning to do the southern part of my flip flop in September.

        Are you going to write a book? Love your blog!

        Like

      • Brown Girl says:

        I feel like that first question is much akin to “how many links to the center of a tootsie roll pop” – the world may never know.

        As to the second, I gotta get through the blog first, but it’s on my agenda for the winter.

        Like

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