About a month off trail

This blog post has been rattling around in my head for about a week. Life back home has had its ups and downs. Even now, I know that I am still grieving the loss of the trail for this year. I don't know if I will stop grieving it until I either make it back on trail or decide that this is not the right time for me to do this or that it is a dream that might need to give up.

I'm coming up on two weeks of being in my own space, which is wonderful. I found a great one bedroom that had a dining room that allows for craftiness to ensue, which is great. I'm working my way through the huge storage unit and bringing in things. I'm also getting rid of a lot of things as I sort through. My goal in this season is to pare down things that I don't need, want, or use, and try to really persevere in completing tasks. I've realized that perseverance and strength in the face of hardship is something I have to practice. I am not a fan what so ever of this, but I also know it is good for me and a skill that needs to be developed if I am to do the trail.

I read something from a friend on Facebook about grieving. I know that my grief is of a different type and magnitude from hers, as she lost her mother in the past two years, but it still rings true. She commented about leaning into grief and how, while we are extremely discomforted by doing so, it's how we process and move through grief. For the loss of a loved one, you never really get over it. I do hope that I am able to move on from this loss, either to a place of freedom from needing to do the trail or being able to complete a larger section or complete it.

One of the hardest things for me right now is that the trail was this focus of completing something. I have been talking about it for years, hiking the PCT and then potentially the Triple Crown. I felt like this was the first big thing since graduating college that was going to actually be done. It wasn't going to just be a lot of big talk, but actually finishing something. I have such an issue with finishing things. My storage unit with so many uncompleted quilts are a testament to that. I'm striving to grow and practice finishing, both large and small challenges, but it is hard. It's a big blow to have not been able to finish.

Many people will respond to that previous paragraph saying, "Oh, but you did! You made it on trail!" but that just doesn't work as a balm. I know that I made it further than those who never went, further than those who were injured in the process of training, and further than the person who had to scratch the day of leaving for the trailhead. But knowing those things doesn't soothe my heart.

There is a low level cycle of worries that continue to spin just below the surface. I worry that our trip changed my relationship with Lucky. Right now, I just write off a few changes of character as he is still adjusting to all of the changes that happened over the past month and a half. He has to learn a new normal. I worry that he might have some arthritis in his shoulder that was highlighted when we were at the vet after the trip, which might make it inadvisable for him to hike with me. I worry that I am and will get caught up in my depression and not continue training and maintaining a trail focus. I worry about balancing finances and making ends meet. I worry about if I ever will really get to the trail.

I finally had to put some limits on Facebook of what notifications I received and what showed up on my feed. I want to be supportive of those who are hiking, especially those that I know, but I had to find a balance. I can't have their notifications popping up on my phone during the day, because it's like salt to a wound. Please know, my heart is so much for you and with you, my PCT friends, but right now, I can't really take care of myself and see your pictures, of you succeeding at something that I had to turn away from this year.

I can finally answer people, at least a few at a time, about why I'm not on the trail right now without crying. I made it through the sixth graders I substitute teach for peppering me with questions about why I was here and why I wasn't hiking. I have my own space to grieve how I need to. I have quite the large distraction of getting my apartment set up.

Right now, I'm just tired. I'm excited about my new space, but getting settled is tiring, though I am pushing myself to get settled as a distraction. I'm still here, with hopes of figuring out if this dream will be a reality. But in this moment, I'm tired and sad.

Week 1 off the trail

It's been a full week since we got off the trail, with a bit of wiggle room. It feels like a lot has happened as well as not very much of anything.

We all are doing better, physically speaking. Lucky has been bouncing around like a jumping bean and his paw is healing really well. We go in later this week to get him officially checked off that he is good to go. My one blister is gone, and Damon is back to running. He is even thinking of doing the Tough Mudder this summer. I told him I would love to go, to take pictures. 

Emotionally, it is still extremely hard. My depression is back at levels I haven't had for a while. It's partially due to all of the changes in such a short period of time, not having my own space, and not having access to my stuff, as everything is still in storage. I'm also really frustrated and somewhat disheartened by the process of searching for a new apartment. I found one I loved, but I didn't get my application in fast enough, as he showed it to two of us at the same time. It would have been just about perfect. I have another one that is a back up apartment, as it would be somewhat more than I would like, but it is out there and further out physically than I would like to be. Hopefully it is something that works out. At this point, I am just tired of looking and want something to magically appear. Guess that isn't happening any time soon. I know I need to be patient and hope that something will appear after 20 day notices are due.

I'm taking it one day at a time. That's all I can do.

Day 3 off the trail

Today was our first full day at Damon’s parents’ place. They have been extremely generous in offering up their spare bedroom to us until we can figure everything out. After my mom picked us up from the airport, we crashed there and then drove back to Washington. It was surreal to be back already.

We got up and went to the vet today for Lucky. We were originally in for his paw, but he was also favoring his right front leg as well. She thinks it is just strained from over compensation or some arthritis. I chose to treat the symptoms, so he now has some dog drugs. We don’t have to wrap his paw anymore, which is one less thing. His pad is coming back in well, which is such a gift. He’s on bed rest for the most part, but it is definitely looking better than I was thinking it would be.

He did get a bigger cone, since the one that we had been borrowing from Steve and Diana was a little small. Lucky wasn’t thrilled. I keep threatening that I am going to get at least one picture of him looking like a martini glass before this is all said and done. He has been catching himself all over things, including the stairs, so it has been really entertaining. I'm a horrible pet parent, since I have been laughing left, right, and center over his escapades with it. 

Once we were back from the vet and the storage unit (we needed clothes and Damon needed some books to study for his industry certs), I started in on the process of getting life back together. I filled out some applications on line for places to live. It’s a slow process, since I put a fair amount of money into food, gear, and transportation for the trail and I am trying to find an inexpensive place to live. I want to downsize somewhat, since I have a lot of stuff and I want to force myself to work on having less. I can work on projects, don’t get me wrong, but I need to not collect so much stuff. Over the past few months, it has been easier to let go of stuff, but I don’t know if that is going to stay the case.

I can already feel the depression setting in, caused by so many of my cognitive distortions. The different voices in my head, constantly judging, are back with full force and it is much more difficult to quiet them since coming back. I am having to wrestle with a lot of the feelings of failure and lack of self-worth in having to scratch. I know that I will get there with time, but please know, it doesn’t help right now to hear everyone tell me how much I have accomplished up to this point. Until I can get my own thoughts under control, it feels more like salt in the wounds, rather than encouragement.

It’s also hard to process everything in the house. It’s such a generous gift to have a place to stay while we figure things out. It’s just hard to process in a space that isn’t my own. Part of me wants to take off for a few days to the middle of the mountains, but our mountains are pretty snowed in, as well as I don’t want to leave the care of Lucky to others. I got him into this predicament and I need to care for him well enough to get him out.

I did get an application in on a place that is currently available. Here’s to hoping it clears quickly and I can move in. It’s just a little one bedroom apartment, but that is what I need right now.

That’s where we are all at for the time being. Lots of emotion, lots of little things that need to get done, but not really a lot of oomph to get it done and dealt with.

Day 1 off the trail

I don't know if this really counts as a day off trail, as we did sleep out and we were at Lake Morena for a little while, but really, it was the first day back in civilization. Don't get me wrong, showers and hot food that I didn't have to cook probably does count as civilization, but there were definitely fewer people around at the campground.

Once we were up and moving, I had to start packing. That packing job was one of the worst backpack packing jobs I have ever done. It's okay though, since we were headed home. I didn't have to carry it far and it didn't need to be super balanced or anything. It just had to hold everything.

Rod made "hiker trash pancakes," aka grilled, left over hot dog buns. We covered them with honey and finished them off. Crazy enough, they weren't half bad. Once we were all loaded up in Rod's van, we headed out.

We arrived about 10 am to the San Diego airport. We couldn't check in yet, as Southwest would only take our bags four hours before our flight. We ended up bumming around the airport, finding different corners to hang out in until it was time. Originally, Damon was on a two part flight back to Portland, while Lucky and I were on a direct flight. It ended up that Damon's first flight was delayed enough that he was bummed to my flight. That meant that we started boarding about 8:30 pm. Yep. Lots of time in the airport.

Going through security was definitely a little bit more interesting. Since we had the issues last time, I did let them know that I needed to take all of his stuff off of him to get him through the metal detector. They were fine with that. They also were fine with me sending Lucky through with Damon catching him on the other side of the metal detector. Lucky, though, was not really a fan of sitting still without all of his stuff on. He tried to get away, climbing up onto the shelf under the table right in front of the xray machine. Thankfully, we got through without too much trouble.

We made it on the the flight and Lucky zonked out. Having Damon with me made flying much better with Lucky. It meant I didn't have to pack everything up to go to the bathroom and I didn't have to make Lucky walk all over the place all the time. It made it just that much easier.

Once we landed, we were greeted by my mom. She picked us up in Portland. We chose to fly there so I could pick up my Jeep. And it was cheaper. We got back to her place after picking up some food and crashed out. We did clean up Lucky's foot, which wasn't bleeding, but did smell something foul. We figured it would be figured out when we got to the vet.

Day 3: Zero day at Lake Morena

It felt good to sleep in, even though it wasn't really sleeping in. Rod had breakfast going for those who were headed out on the trail and everyone seemed to migrate to his canopy sooner or later throughout the day. We were right on the trail as people came into camp, so it worked out really well to welcome them in and help them out.

Rod had to go into town, so Damon, Rosemary, and I took over offering the trail magic. It was fun, though bittersweet. I think I made the choice the day before that it was time for me to leave the trail. I probably made it in a very emotional mindset, but it really had been made. At the same time, I was, and still am, heartbroken about having to leave the trail. Seeing everyone coming through, still strong, still going on, was hard. Having to explain why we weren't going on to each new group of people was difficult. Owning up to my mental issues to complete strangers is extremely humiliating, at least to me. Most everyone took it in stride and commended me for even getting this far. That was extremely kind of them. It still hurt, still hurts. I want to be going on the trail, facing each day, taking the time I had planned to be away from all of the different stressors of life. But two days really showed me I wasn't ready. That's extremely hard to own up to and face, especially when those passing you are able to handle it. I know that I started further behind them, psychologically speaking, but it is still so hard.

I was able to at least help out a few of the different people who came through with taping up ankles and teaching them about the RICE acronym, or Rest, Ice, Compression, and Elevation. Both of the gals I worked on commented that they were feeling markedly better. It felt like I was able to give back and not just freeload off the experience of being on trail.

I'm pretty sure that Damon was able to capture more of this day. I really was grieving the loss of the trail for this year. I cried a lot, taking my time to step away and just be. There were definitely times I just hid out for a while, since I couldn't handle the press of people excited for the trail and continuing on.

Rod was extremely wonderful and offered to give us a ride into San Diego to the airport if we needed when he left for home on Sunday. We both agreed that we would do that, since we needed some way to get back to civilization. Lake Morena isn't much of anything, except a campground, so getting out of there wasn't going to be the easiest thing around.

We did go through our bags and offered those left this evening our food. It was validating to hear them oohing and aahing over the food I had made. Damon did point out that they hadn't tried it yet (His chicken from yesterday didn't rehydrate all the way), but I was still excited.

Day 2: mile 15.4 - 20 (Lake Morena)

Going to bed late means you get up late too. I'm not a morning person, so getting up when I wake up and getting moving is not my strong suit. We weren't the last one out of the camp, thankfully, but we were the second to last. We just weren't moving quickly. I take a lot of the blame for that. We also finally took a look at Lucky's paws, which was when we noticed that one of them had worn off part of a pad. Yep. We (and by we, I mean me) should have been checking those sooner. A lot sooner. He had been licking at it and had been limping around. We got it all wrapped up and covered in a bootie so we could get out, because he wasn't going to let us carry him out.

Once we broke camp, I really wasn't doing well. I don't know if it was being tired, PMSing, or just all around, no good, very bad day. We had missed the cool of the day, we had to do a big chunk of arid, sandy, quick-gaining elevation right off the bat, and I just wasn't feeling it. I knew that I had to hike out, but that wasn't something I was looking forward to doing.

Within the first quarter mile, I pushed Damon to take Lucky and head for the campground. I wasn't doing well, but I didn't want all of us to be out in the heat if we could help it. I knew I was going to go slow, stopping a lot, and emoting a lot. We carried walkie talkies for this reason, so we could split up and do our own trails. That worked until Lucky kept splitting the distance between us and laying down. I finally had to keep him with me while Damon went on. He was good to keep me in the loop about shady spots along the trail, though they were few and far between.

We stopped at one really nice rock cave for a while. It was cool and pretty great for crashing, though it was still really early in the day. We stopped there for a while. I went back and forth about if I wanted to keep pushing on to another shady place or not. Looking back, I probably needed to have stayed there for longer or shorter, just not the amount of time I was there. My attitude also shifted back and forth, which didn't help.

By the time I decided to keep going, it was hot enough that we weren't able to make it to the next rock cave Damon had told me about without Lucky getting really lethargic. We crashed under a decently covering tree for a while, both of us napping some and me trying to get Lucky to drink more water. It wasn't so much an issue of him being dehydrated as much as overheated. Black, double coated dog in the almost desert. Yep. I did have a better outlook after a nap and everything, but it seemed, in retrospect, to be pushing Lucky a little bit faster than he wanted to go.

We were finally able to get going a little bit further. During this time, I asked two hikers who were passing by to help me put Lucky's pack on my pack, since that seemed to help him yesterday. They were more than willing to do so, as well as hike with us for a while. I finally was willing to have them take Lucky's pack with them ahead of us to the campsite. They also walked with us to the rock shelter that Damon pointed out over the radio a while back. We crashed out again, this time staying until Lucky was no longer panting or giving any signs of being overheated.

We started out again, finally making it up over the ridge. It was so wonderful to hear Damon's voice come over the radio, as it had stopped working as soon as he had dropped over the ridge. It did help me keep going, though I was hiking Lucky's hike at this point. I let him stop when he wanted to stop and lay down and let him stay down as long as he wanted. That did make us slow going, but it did help me in that, I wasn't slowing us down, it was Lucky. I felt better about the whole situation when he was the one dictating it.

We kept hiking, finally running into Damon, who, after reaching camp and cooling off, had dumped his pack and headed back to see if he could help out with Lucky by taking his pack. Lonestar, one of the other hikers, had been willing to come back with him, though once he found out just how far back we were, he took Lucky's pack back to camp. Damon took my food bag, which lightened my load, as well as took the lead, which meant Lucky was following him, rather than Lucky walking ahead of me. It kept him walking more, which got us into camp more quickly. It was still slow.

We finally made it in to Lake Morena, where Rod, a wonderful trail angel, had cold drinks and hot dogs for all. He also let us stay at his campsite, which meant we could camp for free. Small, but very profound gifts. He has plans to hike the PCT in 2019, so he was trying to build up good trail karma so there would be someone to hand him a cold drink and food when he made it over the ridge.

Damon probably has more notes of who all we ran into while we were there. I remember Rosemary, as she was the one who has been making all of her gear, as well as having to hang out at Lake Morena while her foot healed. I was able to help her out with that, taping it up and helping her rest it. That felt really good.

Reaching camp meant I was better able to take care of Lucky's paw, which wasn't looking any better. We taped it up with gauze and tried to get as much water into him as possible. He was really lethargic, though very appreciative of any pets he could get.

It was super emotional for me to have reached there, since it was somewhat of a pressure release to have made it, as well as the weight of the decision to keep going or not. Obviously, with Lucky's paw, we would have to look into it more and potentially send him  home. It really was the kinder choice for him to send him home. Then the question was who was going back with him? Both of us? Just me? We chose to take a little bit of time to process.

Day 1: mile 0-15.4 (Howzer Creek)

4:15 am comes extremely early in the morning, though there is the benefit of being the first ones to the trailhead. Bob came around to make sure that we were all up. We had 7 of us, plus the dog, headed out to Campo this morning. We all fit, barely, and then headed out. Bob was in full tour guide mode while we were driving in, pointing out our road crossings and other small details that we would need to know to make our lives easier.

We all had to do our pictures, both group and individual pictures, in front of the monument.

                                                                                        

We were really 20 feet away from the border wall. It’s kinda crazy just how far south we are.

Bob was right. He said that the realization of exactly what we just got ourselves into would hit as soon as he drove over the hill and we lost his tail lights. Yep. It did set in around there, but probably a little bit further, once we started walking.

The first four-ish miles went well. Fun signs and, and since it was cooler, I let Lucky walk off leash, since there wasn’t the big danger of snakes yet. It felt good. Hiking the PCT seemed doable, all things considered.

We stopped with Jacqueline at a creek we came across. It was where we met Laundry Mat and Pika, two other hikers. We ran into other hikers as well, though they hadn’t earned their trail names yet.

The views were beautiful, even as the heat started building. For Washingtonians and a double coated black dog, it was hot. About mile 5, we reached an area that had been hit with wild fire a few years before. The underbrush had grown back, but the trees were still recovering. That meant no shade. Additionally, the ground was extremely sandy and abrasive, most notably on Lucky’s paws. We all kept pushing forward through the heat, hoping to get to some shade.

All the stories I have read, for the most part, don’t talk about how miserable the trail can be. I know it is day one and there is much more to come, but it is miserable, especially as you see people passing you with lighter packs who started later in the day. The mental part of the trail, what with my anxiety, is something I am not prepared for. I planned and did a lot to cope ahead for different situations, but not for the overwhelming emotional struggle. It’s exhausting.

We finally found some shade to crash land in for about an hour. Both Lucky and I weren’t doing well. We were overheated. Even though we kept offering Lucky water, he needed to be out of the sun due to his coat and not moving. He and I conked out for a while, napping during some of the hottest parts of the day.

We did get up and going after a while, and we were able to finally make it through the burned-out areas. It was just extremely hot and trying for me. I had a lot of small anxiety attacks throughout the day, as well as one big one about mile 11. Damon did point out that I really have done a lot of growing over the past few months, as he would have expected the breakdown a lot sooner, especially given we were up super early and all. It's a small victory, but a good one. The stress of the trail and all of my emotional baggage really wasn't something I had prepared for though. 

About mile 12, we did meet our first rattle snake. Damon has since made the comment that he fears for Lucky's sense of self preservation, and I have to agree with him. Damon typically is the front runner in our little pack, with Lucky in the middle and me at the rear. We came up on a creek that was running pretty well, which was probably why Lucky was a little distracted. The rattler didn't start up at Damon, but must have sensed Lucky was more of a predator, so he started rattling at Lucky. The dog looked once and kept walking, probably due to the heat and the desire for water. The snake was close enough that, had he had the mind to strike, he could have gotten me on the trail as I passed. He and I had a little bit of a back and forth, before he worked his way away and I slid on by on the trail. First day on the trail and already have seen a rattler.

The water was a wonderful respite. We met up again with Kelsey and Tillie, a gal hiking with her dog. They were really nice to run into. And then started the slog to the campsite. We camped at mile 15.4, Howzer Creek, which was where quite a few people were staying that night. We ended up being the third to last group to roll in to camp. The trip down into the ravine was not fun, but I made it. We were both exhausted and did everything we could get done done as fast as possible. It did mean a lot to me that Megan, Damon's coworker who hiked the trail last year, told me she didn't get as far in her first night. That was really encouraging, though really hoping that it doesn't mean we burn out quickly. Sleeping well tonight.