Miles hiked: 13.9
Mile marker: 91.2
It’s 6:00 AM. The hotel room is still dark. A dim light shines on Dad’s face from FarOut, the app we use for navigating the trail. He is lying in bed. On the floor at the foot of my bed, Rafiki is sound asleep.
It was nearly midnight when I went to sleep, the evening overcome by catching up on my journals. I was a day behind because our first night at Cleef ran longer than I expected.
A weight has been lifted from my shoulders now that I can just focus on the day I’ve had instead of the day before.
Dad shows me a bit about FarOut, something that I’m still learning how to use. There are two options: walk about 14 miles or walk about 23 miles. No in between. My proposition is that we just do the 14 miles. My blisters have now expanded beyond the Leuko tape and feet are still adapting to their new way of living.
At about 6:30 AM I’m up and moving. Packing my bag is still something new to me and none of my food was put away into their bags.
The minutes fly by as my eyes dart around for the next step. So many small items that must be packed so meticulously! My brain gets lost in this task every time.
A quick brush through my backpack and I take it to the edge of the railing to flip it upside down and dump out the dirt. I think I hear something fall into the grass a floor below. It was probably nothing.
I shake out my dirty tent and roll it inside. A few minutes later as I’m packing my food bags and Dad says, “Look at this! Katy was here.”
“What? Are you sure that’s me?” I respond, looking at Dad pointing to the dirty handprint on the bed.
Whoops.
Dad generously cleans it as I rush around — we don’t want any added charges.
The material of my new gators is delicate, so I search for my utility tool. Only it’s not in the drawer I put my things in. It’s not in the waist belt pocket.
I bet I know where it is.
My sandals on, and I walk down the flight of stairs to the tall grass by a tree where the dirt from my backpack landed.
Please let me find it, please let me find it. I say a little prayer as I look for my red knife. A bottle cap, a piece of paper trash, and there!
Thank goodness I found it! This is so embarrassing — just about as embarrassing as my misstep on the stairs last night after dinner that took me to all fours. No body is going to hear about this knife today. I knew better than to empty it out where I did.
Alas, we’re packed and on the way to the coffee shop. We get there only to find it closed! A leak apparently! Oh, man! I was looking forward to a pastry. No matter. We go to Mom’s Pies. The only options are pies and coffees, so I suggest we just go back to our hotel lobby for their free coffee and leftover pizza.
This was a good idea. We end up sitting with Kevin and John. The lodge is playing some music from my own playlist. Toccata and Fur Elise renditions. Jazzy stuff.
Soon we get to the shuttle to go back to the under pass where we will begin our hike. Thomas’s things are laid out. He can’t find his wallet. My stomach drops for him. That’s an awful feeling. Dad goes over there and walks him through where it might be. Thomas says he may need to go back to the hotel. My pack goes into the back of the vehicle while Dad speaks with him.
“He found it!” someone says. I sigh in relief, feeling helpless that I couldn’t do anything for him, but very glad he found it. Apparently it was in his pizza bag from dinner last night. It can be hard to keep track of our wallets, which are quite literally ziplock bags.
We pile into the car with Zog in the passenger seat and Rafiki, myself, Dad, and Denis squished in the back. Everyone chats in the car for the drive back to our starting spot, which takes about 15 minutes.
Soon we’re out of the car and ready to start.
It’s another ridge line day with low shrubs. We increase in elevation the whole hike, but it’s subtle over the course of the day. The hills in the distance are dark and the terrain sandy and rocky. My day is full of conversation, something I’ve done intentionally to entertain myself.
It’s also a great opportunity to get to know Denis, Thomas, and Rafiki further. While I know the trail is a place to walk in silence and process things, I find the beginning of the trail a space to acclimate, and conversation helps pass the time while I build my trail legs.
Meanwhile, Dad lingers behind. The most cacti diversity is here, and we won’t see nearly this many cacti in one space again on the trail. Dad is pausing frequently to take photos and identify new plants with an app he has.
A lot happens in these days. Everything is new. Quite literally, everything. Eating, cooking, going to the restroom, sleeping, home building, etiquette: it’s all new! This makes it a lot to keep up with. The time will come when I can think more about life, but for now, coping through conversation is just fine.
The area we walk is home to a naval air station. The fighter attack jets and trainer jets swoop by occasionally, a monstrous roar following in its stead.
“There’s another one!” Rafiki says and points after a jet flys low into the valley, its flat body visible to us. I see what Rafiki is looking at. It’s certainly not an airplane, but I don’t say anything.
“Oh, that’s a bird,” he says. “That’s embarrassing!”
That makes the two of us having embarrassing moments today!
We walk along the ridge all day, the sun bright and warm, causing a slight sunburn for me and a dangerous sunburn on Rafiki. I don’t know how, but Dad always seems to manage to avoid that melanoma-causing beast!
We pass gate three, which means our water is near. Dad empties his bag and goes to grab the water while Rafiki and I wait at the campground. Tonight we’ll be cowboy camping, which means no tent and stargazing.
When Dad returns, we all begin cooking dinner: a ram-bomb with spam and chili oil. The dense spam was less exciting than I anticipated. The chili oil? Pretty spicy.
We’re joined by Shepherd, the hiker who let us stay on his $35 lot the other night. His feet and legs are deep red, like Rafiki’s burn, and he only hikes in Chacos. This is also his third time around the PCT. He’s already hiked it two and a half times!
Soon we’re joined by Kevin, an artist from Santa Barbara. Then by Rotem, a young lady from Israel. They leave and Rainbow then joins us. We had the chance to chat with Rainbow at the underpass yesterday. He’s from Germany and carries a camera with him to take amazing photographs.
Soon, Rainbow heads to his camp, and we set up for ours. We are in bed when Rafiki asks about Jupiter, and Shepherd responds from the campground next to us. Dad chimes in about where Jupiter is positioned. Shepherd is only in the spot next to us. It makes me laugh that I can hear him join the conversation but not see him.
It feels like having a roommate. Especially when I was talking about “Chaco guy with the sunburn” and he corrected me with “Shepherd” from the lot over.
Now, I lay in bed on my tent. The crickets sing lullabies in the cool night. The sky is full of glittering stars, the galaxy painted above me
This is my favorite scenery of the trip so far.
The Wonderland Journal 
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