Hey, it’s Chris!
Our PCT experience thus far has been more challenging than either one of us originally thought. "A longer than normal hike in the woods" is what I had in mind, along with all the cool Instagram filtered photos of mountain lakes, snowy summits, and beautiful sunsets. To be honest though, it's a grind. Every day is an 8 to 10 hour work out with a 30 - 40lb backpack, trekking up and down steep terrain that rocks your joints. It's no joke, and at week 4, Autumn and I are finally beginning to feel a little bit stronger. A routine is setting in and we are completing 20 miles on almost a daily basis. As our legs get stronger and our ambition to get to the next restaurant with bottomless coffee grows, we are learning more about ourselves than we imagined. I wanted to write a little excerpt to Autumn's week 4 wrap up as a few significant personal events occurred during this week that I'd like to share. Week 4 had been an emotional one for me in particular. Back in Big Bear I reached out to my Uncle Roy who had lived in Southern California for a number of years and knew my father very well (he is married to my Aunt Ruthie/my Dad's sister). I told him about our PCT trip and how we were spending two nights in Big Bear Lake, a small ski resort town nestled in the San Bernardino National Forest mountains overlooking the vast Mojave desert to the north. My dad had grown up only an hour away in Barstow, CA. Roy recounted how he and my dad had skied there frequently, taking refuge from the harsh desert to ski fresh lines on the perfectly groomed slopes. It was refreshing to know my dad had walked down the same streets in the picturesque town center decades ago. But the main reason I reached out to my Uncle was to determine if the PCT would come close to the area where he, my Aunt Ruthie, and Roy's brother, Shane, had spread my dad's ashes back when he passed away in 2008. I had yet to visit the site and was hoping it'd be close enough to the PCT to visit. Well little did I know, the trail, at its closest point (as the crow flies) is only 8 miles from where my dad's ashes were spread. This new knowledge got my gears spinning; how could we make the detour to see my dad's final resting place? Luckily, Shane, Roy's brother, lives 7 minutes from the site and offered to pick us up from the trail near the Acton KOA. He was gracious enough to let us spend 2 nights with him and his family in Lancaster, CA. After a restful night at Shane's, Autumn and I drove down to my dad's final resting place. It was only a 7 minute drive, but to me, felt like 7 hours. We pulled over at the corner of 110th and J Street and took a few seconds to take in the site. For most of the month of April, the field at this junction is full of blooming poppy's. With it being almost mid-May, only a handful of the magnificent orange-reddish flowers remained, the few left standing looked weather beaten, battered by the incessant wind and sun that the Antelope Valley region experiences on almost a daily basis. However, at the very far corner of the field, there seemed to be a brighter, more distinct glow to a particular group of poppies than the rest. Their orange-redish color seemed brighter than the hot Mojave Desert sun. This particular cluster of poppies existence was supplemented by a greater presence, their health and beauty elevated by a force veiled to the human eye. My dad was definitely here, I hadn't felt his presence this strong since he was alive and I knew he was back home. The desert had always been his favorite environment; the unbroken harsh landscape had challenged and formed his very essence during his childhood and early adult life. He had returned home, and "All is Well with His Soul". I want to thank Shane and my Uncle Roy for setting all this up. My dad always loved the Sveiven family and it's no surprise why. They have pure hearts of gold and my father saw their family as a near perfect model of what unconditional love, compassion, and respect should look like. I thank you all for taking the time to read my excerpt and once again, apologize for the mushy stuff. I promise Autumn will lighten the mood with the rest of week 4's highlights as it was truly an amazing week!
Week four was a blur. It absolutely flew by. We’re not sure whether that’s because the trail was so traumatizing our brains suppressed the memories, or if time flew because we were having so much fun. Maybe both. Who knew putting yourself through such torture could simultaneously be an absolute blast. Chris said it best! The highlight of week four, albeit emotional, was definitely our visit to Lancaster with the Sveiven family. Thank you so much for taking us in Shane, Jen and Shelby! We woke up early on Saturday, excited about the hot shower and new shoes awaiting us at the Acton KOA. We hiked in around lunchtime and picked up our first resupply box (thanks, mom!) unable to wait to put our new shoes on - our current pairs were sole-less and littered with holes. Joke’s on us, there were no new shoes. We didn’t put any in our box. Before Shane came to pick us up in his tank of a Ford Excursion, we took the world’s coldest showers for fourteen friggen dollars. I only slightly lost my shit when notifying the nice lady working the office. After settling in to the Sveiven’s beautiful house and chatting with everyone for a while, Chris and I set off to Del Taco where we ate our weight in burritos and French fries. The rest of the day consisted of relaxing and hanging out with the Sveiven fam! As Chris wrote, the next morning we went to visit his dad. The poppies were nearing the end of their season, but it was easy to imagine the immense beauty displayed when they're in full bloom. And it was easy to understand why Jon loved it out here. Chris picked a poppy to keep as a memento and amulet. We’d dry it as we hike. I reached out to my mom and nanna for the best poppy drying method - they’ve got thumbs so green they’re blinding! We needed a book and a paper towel. Lucky we were in the vehicle of two teachers - there were several books to choose from. I lay the poppy delicately in my hands, closed my eyes and, like the witch that I am, thought hard at Jon, wherever he might be. “Please don’t let me fuck this up, Jon.” I thought. If I were crazy I’d swear I’d heard him laugh, lay his hand hard on my shoulder, and say “I won’t, kid.” I got to work displaying the poppy on a page halfway through a thesaurus we found in the middle section of the Excursion. I spread its petals evenly and displayed its leaves ever-so carefully. It turned out darn-near perfect. Thanks, Jon! Once we got back to the Sveiven’s house, we transferred it to Chris’s passport, where it now lays drying - with him each step of the way. We spent the remainder of the day shoe shopping and running a few other errands. Then, back at the Sveiven’s, Chris made us crêpes. Not just any crêpes though, these were the bee’s knees. We stuffed them with an endless variety of fillings. My personal favorite flavor was Brie and apricot jam, sprinkled with powdered sugar, of course. But the banana, peanut butter, Nutella was a close second. Soon enough we were off to dreamland. Starting the trail again on Monday was rough. We got way too spoiled at the Sveiven‘s. Their hospitality was the perfect close to week four. Other highs of week four included a stop at McDonald’s, a nearo in Wrightwood, and trail magic from Cheshire the Cat. The trail runs underneath I-15 at mile 342. There you can take a short detour to McDonald’s. We saw the Golden Arches and began to run, unable to wait a single second longer for those dreamy French fries, soaked in salt and grease. There were probably close to 50 other hikers there when we rolled in. Renovations were in progress so we all piled on the lawn and stuffed our faces. The fries were good, but they paled in comparison to the to-go container full of fresh fruit I purchased from the fruit stand in the Chevron parking lot next door. We hung out for several hours, called family, scratched a couple scratch-offs, and watched our pal Chris (different Chris) eat a Big Mac in 37.4 seconds. It was disgusting. A couple days later we were in Wrightwood. Chris, Amy, Paul and I hiked a couple quick miles and arrived at the trailhead early where we got lucky with a hitch. A local couple and their dog, Sequoia, helped us squeeze into their car and drove us into town. We wouldn’t be staying; we were just there for a few meals and a resupply. Our first stop was The Village Grind where we binged coffee and ate our second breakfast of the day. Just as we were preparing to leave, a few older gentleman sat down at the table next to us. They knew we were hikers - the filthy clothes, sweaty smell, and loads of empty plates were a dead give away. They were hikers too in their younger days. They entertained us for quite awhile, telling story after story like old men always do at coffee shops. We eventually had to slip away, but if it were up to the story tellers we’d all still be there listening. We hit the grocery store, bought way more food than necessary, and ran the rest of our errands. Then, Evergreen Cafe. Somebody ate a few too many magic mushrooms during the interior design phase of this restaurant. There were ten or so stuffed owls hanging from the ceiling that move up and down on fishing line each time the front door opens. The owls were alarming, the staff were eclectic, and the food was delicious. Between hanging out in town way longer than we anticipated and having a hard time getting a hitch, we arrived back to the trailhead late. We ended up climbing Baden Powell, our highest climb yet, in the dark and through the snow. We kept losing the trail because of the snow coverage and eventually resorted to climbing straight up the mountain rather than hiking the invisible switchbacks. We made it to camp cold and exhausted, but we made it. The next day was rough. We had another long, steep climb up Mount Williamson through a recently burned area. It was hot, we were tired, and we had a lot of miles left to do to stay on track for the Sveiven’s. Luckily, a section of the trail was closed due to Mountain Yellow Frog habitat restoration, so we’d have to walk the road which would shave off a few miles. Along our road walk a man in a brightly painted Honda Element pulled up alongside us. It was Cheshire the Cat, a trail angel who lives in his car and travels around blessing the PCT, Appalachian Trail, and Continental Divide Trail with trail magic. He sliced us fresh cantaloupe and pineapple and gave us a tour of the mural painted on his car. The artwork had been done by his friend who “took way too much acid” and surprised him with the mural one day. It was impressive artwork, but I can’t say I’d be thrilled if a friend of mine surprised me in the same way. Cheshire’s fruit was exactly what we needed to knock out the rest of our miles. The next couple days were smooth sailing. Before we knew it, we were in Lancaster enjoying our weekend with the Sveiven’s . Week four wrapped up at mile 444. We’re getting stronger everyday and slowly adding additional miles. Amy and Paul have been great motivators and competitors, always keeping us on schedule. We’re getting anxious to finish the desert section and get into the Sierras in a couple hundred miles. Keep humping!
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