[Day 90] Setting Sun

Significant time has elapsed since I have left the Mexican border from the Bootheel of New Mexico. As I cross the lines of latitude north and with the proximity to summer solstice, I have gained nearly two hour of daylight, allowing me to walk every day into a late setting sun.

I woke up to a dry tent and sleeping bag. I’ve started keeping the outer fly door of my tent unzipped, and it has significantly reduced condensation. I guess I expel a lot of water at night breathing and sweating, and an enclosed tent will capture all that. It’s good practice to dry out a tent or sleeping bag during breaks, but I often forget or neglect the chore.

After some rolling terrain, I climbed 1500 feet over a saddle and dropped to a viewpoint of mountains known as the Red Conglomerate. The mountains do have a red hue, but it’s nothing like that found in the deserts of the southwest. The trail rolled through dry forest and open sagebrush bringing me to an impeccable spring fed trough. A hidden forest crew had their Stihl chainsaws working and gasoline cans on the side of the trail. I tried my best to get a view from above of what they were cutting in the valley, but it was unclear. The forests seemed extremely healthy.

I am on a crash course with the southbound season. Surprisingly, most southbound people have no idea how many others are around them. It’s a bubble, and the quantity grows everyday. I talked with a few pleasant southbound hikers, who were not too pretentious about their endeavor. There’s always some tension between northbound and southbound hikers — the PCT tends for more friendly interactions while the AT is notorious for bickering. The CDT feels slightly strained oddly. Predominantly, the hikers seem to be true southbounders, meaning they started at the Canadian border and are intending for the Mexican border. Maybe a third of the people are flip-floppers, where they hiked north from Mexico initially, then jumped to another section of trail. Some people are too smug for eye contact or sharing the trail at the brief cross in our paths. Some people are more natural to engage with (these tend to be west coasters for myself). Anyhow, the legend of Zeppelin is further north than I am — even the southbound hikers know of me. I was talking with a southbounder (forgetting his name — there was about 20 southbound people today). When I told him my trail name, he said, “Oh, no way! You’re the king of the San Juan’s.” The legend has certainly exceeded the man, as folklore often does.

After guzzling some water, I cut cross country to some dirt roads. After about ten miles of open dirt roads, road transitioned to trail and dropped me to Deadman Lake. I took dinner at the lake, consisting of a ramen bomb (ramen noodles and broth thickened with Idahoan mashed potatoes — it’s better than it sounds) and some hot chocolate. Across the lake, I noticed an ATV track that cut up the hill and I could clearly shortcut trail with it. I went for it… but managed to get a little too into the zone, bypassing the short off trail section back to trail by a half mile. I wasn’t going to turn back, and I scanned my map to find an easy dirt road alternate to connect me back to trail ahead.

Cruising along, I listened to a Pearl Jam concert from 2013 in San Diego. Despite the band’s Seattle origins, much of the band members have San Diego connections or family roots. Eddie talked to his time and inspirations for songs in San Diego — surfing Cardiff reef, driving 163, dedications to Olivenhain and Poway. It had me missing home a bit. My upbringing in North County was indescribably fortunate — great education, clean, well-to-do community, plethora of immediately available resources and activities. When you live in it constantly though, you always want more and become complacent where all these immense amenities are expectations, not items of fortune. I was missing family too. Biweekly phone calls is about all the family time I manage, minus the occasional texting from a peak. There is a mom, aunt, uncle, and some doggies I miss much.

By 9:30pm, the sun was blocked by the mountainous skyline as I descended into the valley below. I had an hour left in my concert and a tad over three miles to merge with trail. With the slowly cooling air temperature, it was perfect conditions for some night hiking. As the bright moon shadowed the two track road, I navigated in the dark on an ascent to Harkness Lakes and the CDT. About a half miles to Harkness Lake, I alternated between pockets of hot and cold about ten seconds in spacing. I’ve seen the occasional air temperature shift, but nothing quite as delineated and dramatic as this.

By 11pm, I met back with the CDT, pitched my tent, and tended to my skin reactions. I clearly have an allergy to some plant I bushwhacked through before Lima — I have occasional patches of hives along my legs. The allergen is all over my gear presumably, so this reaction might be with me for a while.

Signing off,

Zeppelin / fReaK (ON a leash)