June 10, 2016 Mile 280-284 I hug my dad and disappear into the forest. It’s about 6pm, and I need to find a campsite before it gets dark. I can hear the crunch of my dad’s tires as he drives back down the dirt road. I suddenly feel very alone out here. I’m about a quarter mile from Cougar Crest, where I left off two weeks ago. I could backtrack that quarter mile, but it hardly seems like the forest will have changed much, or that I will have missed some amazing view in that short section, and the fire closures have already ruined any chance of a continuous footpath between Mexico and Canada, so it doesn’t really disturb me to skip it. Within a couple hundred yards, I have a view of Big Bear Lake, with all of its people and buildings. It seems far away. My dad and I made a stop in Big Bear, for dinner and cash. I lost my Moleskine notebook on the train ride down to Southern California, and it had my driver’s license, credit card, debit card, and the cash I was going to bring with me, so the $160 my dad gave me is all I have to get me through until Lindsey can mail me my replacement cards in a couple weeks. It’s a little nerve-racking—what if the package doesn’t get there in time, or gets lost in the mail? What if I run out of money to buy food? I’ve never realized how dependent I am on my wallet. Perhaps it will be good for me to get away from that for a bit, try a different way of living. I make the conscious decision to let the worry go, and although it doesn’t disappear completely, I’m able to start enjoying the evening. The trail is lined with flowers and pine trees, and something about the light makes it seem later than it is. I find my hiking rhythm almost immediately, and quickly come across a good spot for camping. It’s flat, open, and has a great view of the lake. But I’ve just gotten my engines revved up, and I’m not ready to stop hiking yet. Maybe I’ll bite off another mile or two. The trail flies by, and I think about what I’m going to do next year. I’ve just quit my job. I can hardly believe it. The last two weeks of teaching were even more difficult than usual, and I found out that the school was going to cut the beginning band program, hacking off the roots that I had put in place the previous year to help save the program. It was the last straw. Lindsey and I talked about it for a few days, and we both decided that it was time for me to try something else. I put in my resignation two days before the end of the school year. Of course, now that I am unemployed, that means I can finish the entire PCT this year. And it makes more sense: If I start another job, I’m not likely to have next summer off to do the second half. I think about my many interests, and try to decide on something that could be a good fit. Several ideas come to mind, but none makes for an obvious career. The trail opens into a recovering burn area in a valley. Charred tree trunks are casting long shadows in the shrubs and grasses. I’m not ready to hike alone in the dark yet, so I start to look around for a campsite. I find one above the trail on one of the valley’s folds and enjoy a spectacular sunset.
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Nick is a teacher, writer, and amateur adventurer. Archives
June 2020
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