Campsite at mile 593 to Kelso Valley Road (mile 616)
We reach the 600 mile marker around lunchtime. Like all of the unofficial mile markers that people construct out of twigs, rocks, and pinecones, there are at least four. Spread out trailside, one after the other in 30 meter intervals in accordance with each creators GPS device. All of them are close enough for me, so I take a picture of the one in the best light. It’s a funny feeling standing over the mile marker, something like trying to laugh, cry, and vomit all at the same time. Less a reaction to the number, than to the thought “oh, just a little over 2,000 left.” It’s not a mood booster.
The trail has felt especially hard since Tehachapi. Bigger climbs, distant water sources, and warmer temperatures have left me wilted. At lunch I zone out in the shade as people complain around me. Tired, sore, hot, thirstier, hungrier, and is this getting harder not easier(?!) – everything I’ve been feeling but not saying, pouring from the mouths of other hikers. The relief is euphoric. It’s not just me, that doesn’t make it any easier, but it’s not just me. Isn’t that what Nicole Antoinette is always trying to tell us? That people really just want to be told they’re not alone.
Hours later we’re hiking through sunset to make it down to Kelso Valley Road where everybody else is camping. Keith and I are alone for the first time today, Beandip and Moonshine behind us in the gloaming, All American Austin, Low Key, and Lost ahead – probably already in camp. The air is cool and above us the sky is doing magnificent things. Blue and pink sherbet swirled across the sky, the land around us bathed in that special light – the kind that only comes in the mountains when the sun has gone behind the hills but isn’t totally set. It’s like the mountains are saying it’s worth it, it’s worth it, you’re worth it.
Thank you special mountains, thank you for everything.
I really enjoy reading these. I really get a sense of what life on the trail is like.