More crazy-vivid dreams, about a “The Departed” style man-who-is-me inside the mob attempting to evade detection. My alarm goes off, I snooze it, and I switch perspectives; I’m the mob boss’s daughter now, and having been put in a room with other “traitors” and told only one is leaving, I find a key and let everyone go and berate my mob boss father for doing what he does. My alarm goes off again before I reap any consequences. Continue reading
There’s only one thing on my mind when I open my eyes this moring: HOT SPRIIIIIIIIIIIINGSSSSSSSSSS. Gon get those two miles done. Gon get my soak on. Gon do that. Packity pack-pack, then soakity soak-soak. Awww. Yisss. Continue reading
It takes forever to get to sleep between the wind and the cold, though I’m fine once I warm up. I’m up on and off again through the night, though, to drink an entire liter of water and adjust my body when certain parts get too warm or cold, too far away from the happy temperature in the center of the bag.
I wake at 5am to frost all over everything, and immediately go back to sleep.
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I actually sleep okay on the tiny couch, having alternately put my legs up and stretch them out as necessary through the evening to keep comfortable. Still, I’m up early – normal hiker time, 5:30 – but not a creature is stirring in the house, so I doze for a little, then sit up and write. Might as well be productive. The brave souls who slept outside are hankering to get in, but respectful of everyone’s sleep.
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The wind howls and makes my sleep fitful – I’m up several times just to watch the tent bow over onto my legs. Nothing to be done about it at this juncture, so I roll over, again and again, until the sun rises and it’s time to go.
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I have the most vivid dreams – about bollywood marriages and impromptu a capella battles and chasing down a kid who stole another kid’s stuff and parkouring like a boss and almost getting shot in the stomach for my trouble1. I wake shortly after that bit, breathing quick – and muscles aching from yesterday.
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We’d agreed, Sasha and I, to be out of camp by 5:30, though Sasha had suggested 6:30. 4:30 rolls around, and my first reaction is “aaaabsolutely not”. She starts to rustle, I weakly say “6:30?” The rustling stops immediately. Oh good.
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We’re up and out by 5, which is good – we’ve got a peak to bag and a thunderstorm to avoid – plus, we’ve got to actually get back to the trail. At 5am, there aren’t exactly cars around to give us a hitch, so it’s walking to the Ernie Maxwell Trail, which will take us to Humber Park, where the Devil’s Slide Trail is, which, finally, will put us back on the PCT.
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I wake up in a bed – sheets and everything! And still dark at 8:30, given the curtains! The miracles of modern technology.
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I wake several times during the night – a few times to the sounds of Saturday night revelry, another time to silence, during which I take out my earplugs. I regret this when, during the hour of 4am, the family in the site next to ours starts up the party again. Loudly. In Spanish, which, not understanding, my brain tries really, really hard to decipher, keeping me awake. I fumble for my earplugs, but once I get them in, it seems like my 5:30 alarm goes off pretty immediately. Continue reading
Brown Girl on the NST 