PCT Day 93 – SoBo Flip – Smoke like Fog

Waugh Lake on the Rush Creek Alternate (which we’re taking to avoid the smoke from the Lion fire burning west of Mammoth Lakes, and is nearly identical length to the PCT) to Mammoth Lakes (mile 907)

Total PCT miles hiked: 1331

Due to our early start Keith (Starman) and I arrived at the Sierras when there was still a lot of snow, and decided it wasn’t safe to attempt a crossing given my skill level. We elected to flip up to northern California and hike southbound (SoBo) back to where we left off near Lone Pine – giving the snow a chance to melt out. During this flip the PCT milage will be counting down, but I’ll include a tally of our total milage hiked so that you can keep aprised of our progress in a linear fashion.

I sleep fitfully all night. The combination of the smoke from the Lion Fire rolling through the valley and the bright moon like somebody shining a headlamp in your face means that when I wake at 6am I feel as though I’ve just fallen asleep for the 30th time. Oh well, what can ya do?

Last night we camped along the clear shores of Waugh Lake. The almost dry lakebed reflecting the peaks of Banner and Ritter on it’s smooth glassy surface. This morning the winds have changed and the smoke seeps thickly into the Rush Creek valley. Our plan was to take this unofficial alternate into Mammoth lakes, in part to see some new trail that Keith has been wanting to check out for years, and in part to avoid the dense smoke along the PCT that makes hiking uphill feel like suffocating. Well, at least we’ll see some new trail and some interesting history bits below the Gem Lake damn.

It’s an odd way to cross the halfway mark on our hike. Not at the official marker at 1,325. Not on the official trail or on an official alternate. Not surrounded by other hikers, no trail family, no fanfare. I realize that the only reason I’m upset about this turn of events is that I’m afraid other hikers, other strangers on the internet will judge me for my choices and confront me about it. But at this point I’m beyond caring which, until recently, I couldn’t honestly say.

When you’re a creative woman who puts your work and your travels out on the internet for others to read, you accept that you’re drawing attention to yourself and that not all of it will be positive. I’ve had folks proffer negative comments when I skipped a section in southern California when I ran short on food. I’ve had men call me an idiot and a neanderthal when I spoke honestly about sexism on the trail. I’ve been dismissed and overlooked in the outdoors for years and years as they turned to male friends and partners for expertise that I had. I don’t care if you don’t believe these things to be true, I don’t care if you think I’m overreacting. I have written here with honesty and integrity, and if that’s not enough then you can fuck right off. I am not searching for opinions or validation. This is my hike, after all, and I am not beholden to anyone.

This morning was quiet without the crunch and clack of other thru hikers. The smoke surrounded us like a veil, isolating fragments of the landscape in a way that made them all the more beautiful. The gentle bend of the shore along clear green waters, perfect without comparison to the mountains or rivers or trees. The world felt soft and special and purely ours, nobody else would have a mid point like this.

At some point in the morning we crossed the 1,325th mile of our hike, but did not stop to celebrate. We hiked on towards the road at the bottom of the valley. And when we crossed that road we waded into the cool waters of a lake, stripping off our sweaty clothes and washing away the dirt and effort of all that had been accomplished. On the horizon the smoke white sky met with dark blue waters and we stood for a long time looking at nothing and everything.