Mile 64 to Sissors Crossing (mile 77) then a hitch into Julian
We rush rush rush down out of the lowland desert hills into the capital D Desert where even in the last day of March it’s hot. A sort of desperate heat, the kind humans aren’t designed for. In this baking valley floor with it’s menagerie of twisted brittle plants, it feels as though nothing is actually meant to live here. The high thin clouds have been coming and going over the sun all day, as mercurial in nature in our ability to decide if and where we’re going into town. It’s just thirteen miles from camp to Sissors Crossing, and if we can get to Sissors by early afternoon we’ll have earned ourselves a precious nero (a day of low milage, typically less than a half day hiking) in addition to our zero (day of no hiking) tomorrow. At Sissors we’ll hitch into Julian. Or maybe we’ll hitch four miles in the other direction and stay at the Stagecoach RV park. Or maybe we’ll hang out under the bridge where we stumble upon the first trail magic we’ve encountered. Finally we end up in downtown Julian surrounded by other hikers at Carmen’s, talking about the only thing hikers ever want to talk about: hiking.
I find myself sitting next to a man who self describes as a “mystic, telepathic energy healer” and I cannot tell if he’s just messing with me or if that’s his real life. We trade names and he informs me that Kara is too hard of a name to pronounce and then works in vain to give me a trail name – which is a sort of nickname that folks use on the tail in lieu of their real names.
At 29 I have conflicting feelings around trail names. On the one hand they’re largely innocuous, fun and often funny, and can be used to preserve ones anonymity if that’s you’re thing. But also, I’m not sure I need or want a different persona for hiking. Maybe it’s a product of growing up and becoming more comfortable with who I am. Or perhaps as a person who has never been conducive to being given nicknames I’ve never grown comfortable with the practice personally.
However, as this drunken stranger who knows nothing more about me than my name – which he doesn’t even like, tries to rename me, I find myself growing defensive over my name for perhaps the first time in my life. When I first heard about the PCT I had such a strong desire for my own trail name, and I’m not ruling out the possibility of adopting one in the future. But I like the feeling of being someone who is strong enough to propose, plan, and tackle the PCT, just me, no alter ego attached.
