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Stopped at: Rodriquez Spur Truck Road, mile 68.9 Miles today: 19.8
This was the day I'd like to forget, it's also the day I've decided to abandon the trail. My mind appealed to continue, but my knee begged to stop. When I leave the trail, I wasn't sure if I would return this year.
The day started at 7:30 am as I broke down the tent sitting on tall grass near Penny Pines. I felt very good as the trail started an immediate climb through the scorched earth. Leafless trees burnt naked, but barely alive. It seemed the vitality of the forest was gone except for the newly born grass.
As the climb continued, it became very windy on an already cool morning. At one point, I thought the wind was going to tear the jacket off my body. The cool weather was a welcomed friend and made hiking easier. I peaked the first apex easily with a little soreness in the knee. Kevin missed me breaking down camp and was ahead of me the whole morning.
I met up with Kevin, Glenn, and Sheila at the Pioneer Mail Trailhead picnic area and introduced everyone. They set out ahead while I rewatered at the horse trough.
Miles after desolate miles, hours after long hours, the scenery was burnt with very little shade except for an occasional large boulder. The only postive thing seemed to be a water cache by the Trail Ratz (Dave, Dave, and John), which would be the first of many water caches by them. For once, I had plenty of water and left the cache very soon after reading entries in the log book because of the unbearable shadeless heat.
It was not a very encouraging day when my left knee started hurting very badly, especially on the downhills. Again, the doubts of quitting started playing with my mind. Was this worth it? The 1200 feet drop into Chariot Canyon was excruciating misery! My face was painted with a grimace much of the descent. I had to walk pigeon-toed to ease the pain on the knee.
The others had planned on stopping at Chariot Canyon tonight, but I couldn't find any signs they had been here. There was a flat dirt area nestled among the grass which looked like a possible camping spot, but no shade. I kept hiking and hiking and hiking until 7:30 pm, when the weather finally started cooling down and I was down to the last 1/4 litre. I had to keep moving because of little water, but luckily the trail was mostly leveled ridgeline (along the ridges of the mountain) for the next few miles.
A large concrete fire water container was my reward for the day. Once I shifted the heavy steel lid and discovered water, I knew I could finally stop. It was upsetting the data book hadn't mention the fire water supply, which was important when water wasn't available for miles in either direction. Maybe they had a reason not to mention the the water supply. (In retrospect, I suspect the trail was rerouted through here because the data book states there was water 1.3 miles off the trail- the fire water tank may be the water at 1.3 miles.)
Tonight, I stayed tentless on top of the concrete water container because it would keep away the bugs, at least the crawling ones.
When the knee started hurting intolerably, I decided to give up on the PCT. Tomorrow, I would leave the trail to prevent damage beyond natural repair. Just when I built up enough stamina to carry the backpack with a moderate amount of food and water, the knee has become a burden. "What would I do when I left the trail? Ride around the country on a bus and visit urban cities? Backpack along the California coastline? So much time until the end of summer. Why did my leg have to start hurting now?"
The hikers who left the trail during the first few weeks (for their own good reasons) were the ones whom I didn't want to become. The existence I avoided, I have now relunctantly accepted. A part of me seemed missing, empty. Who had I become, what was left of me?
