PCT Day 11 – The First Hardest Day

Mile 136 to Paradise Valley Cafe (mile 152 + 1 Mile road walk, then a hitch into Idyllwild)

It takes us four hours to hike around the nameless little city in the valley. Hiking up on a ridge, a crest if you will, rising and falling in and out of every fold of every hill. We are on the side of a bowl and on every side there are low round mountains extending to the horizon. Mountains with no sharp angles, all elbows and knees of lovers tangled up under the blankets, stretching into forever; below us the nameless little city in it’s dedicated patch of flat in the bottom of the bowl. We’re not going there and so I do not need to know the city’s name. Maybe that’s a little sad, the way we ignore nearly everything that isn’t within a stones throw of the trail, but today I have other things to worry about. For example: the fact that I don’t have enough food to make it through this section.

Sitting on a rock looking down onto the nameless city I tell Keith I’m hitching into Idyllwild once we reach Paradise Valley Cafe – home of the best burger on the PCT, or so I’m told. This wasn’t the plan, but it’s the only one I’m capable of now. Without the hitch we have two more days of hiking along a terrible alternate, the result of a trail closure. That was the plan, but plans change.

There is not enough food in my bag. Not enough energy in my legs, in my body. I’m dragging my body over every pass, leaning on my poles in order to pry my feet from the ground and continue forward motion. Today is the hardest day. So far, of course.

The only thing that keeps me moving is the idea of two days off in Idyllwild. Two zeros I tell myself again and again. Make it through today and you can take two zeros. This, along with the promise of the best burger on the PCT and I cajole myself to the highway, to the restaurant, to cold soda and a massive plate of food and after it all dissapears inside of me I’m only barely full. I need to pack more food.

After our cheerful waitress has cleared our food away I zone out with the relaxation of a full stomach and in this state I finally realize I’ve fallen into the valley. The fateful dip between how I started the trail, and the new stronger body that I’m building through days of continual motion. The valley of suck that one must go through before the soreness, exhaustion, and pain transforms into strength and resilience. I knew this was coming, and though it’s arrival was not a surprise, the suddenness and extremity shock me. However, like so many things that require us to grow the only way through this valley is to keep going.