The price you pay...
Yesterday, at about 3 P.M., Trip (a.k.a. Lennard), Louie and I arrived in Agua Dulce after a 16 mile day through canyon forests, rolling plains, mountain crest paths and rocky desert turf, setting our total hiked mileage just shy of a hundred miles. Upon soar knees and sprained ankles, we hobbled up the road, past the famous Vasquez Rocks, around the corner past the Liquor store, and up 9/10s of a mile to the Saufley residence. For those of you who don't know about the Saufley's, I will now amaze you:
Our first ressuply box was not sent ahead to a post office, but instead to the Saufley residence, where Jeff and Donna Saufley live with their numerous dogs and horses. They call their house "Hiker Haven" and it is just that. Upon entering the gate, you are greeted by a sign that says "Welcome! You have come to the right place, if we are not here, just make yourselves at home around the corner in the guesthouse." Jeff, however, was home, and greeted us warmly by taking us around the corner to take our packs off infront of a large trailer that was to be our house for the coming days. You take your packs off, have a cold beer or soda, and walk to the garage of their house to start visit. There, infront of you, is a large kiosk with all the information you need to know and didn't about the PCT, including water report, snow report and trail condititons, as well as trail angels in other towns and so on. There is also a large metal rack, upon which sits cleans towels, clean shirts, clean shorts and flip flops for up to 20 hikers atleast, with intructions to take one of each, and go take the most beautiful shower of your life. After a week of hiking, we were gitty at the idea.
After your shower, you dawn on your new shirt and shorts, and put all your dirty clothes into a provided laundry basket, and then Donna, the "Laundress", will wash all of your clothes for you. Then it's all R&R, anything from watching one of the hundreds of movies available, reading any of the books on the shelves, internet access, piano, guitar, full kitchen and free food, explore the hiker boxes (if you don't know what those are, you are missing out) or just lounge around in the hammock our chairs in the beautiful yard. You could even explore the garage more to find funny articles, hiker tips, all the PCT hiker's ressuply boxes alphabatized and separated, and not one but TWO sets of keys - each one belonging to a car you can use "on the honor system". One seats 8, one seats 5, one's a stick and the other an automatic. I am not kidding.
The Saufleys are so infamous on the trail for their kindness, that after we arrived yesterday and had begun pouring through our ressuply, some cameramen showed up and started doing interviews for a documentary/reality DVD about the PCT, and even asked Trip and I for camera time!
But you pay the price for the kindness given on the trail, and such is the balance of life. To my knowledge, no hiker has come through the Saufleys without deserving the hospitality through intense labor.
Throughout the last 6 days, Trip, Louie and I have seen some of the most beautiful parts of Southern California that until now, I refused to believe even existed. On day one, we traversed snow cliffs, and climbed strait up Mount Baden Powell through 4 feet of snow, trail completely covered and hidden, strait to the summit and crest, from which we spend the coming night and next day postholing out of. On day two we rode an avalanche down the mountains, road walked for miles, and camped in the most beautiful spot on top of a grassy hill wil perfect view of the setting sun. Day 3 had us in forests and deserts, days 4 and 5 in chaparrelles and grass-covered rolling hills. We've stopped hourly to gaze over the beautiful Earth, to sit in a perfect bluff and eat lunch over valleys and canyons, or to rest as long 5 o'clock shodows brought the hills to life. Not a day goes by that I don't wonder how I could possibly be happy in a city or sleeping in a house.
And yet, not a day goes by that I don't wish I was in a city eating a cheeseburger, or sitting infront of the Super Nintendo about to fall asleep on the couch. For every moment of true bliss, we have been pummeled by the reality of the world, and the price we pay for happiness.
As of now, our injuries of few and unsevere. Only speaking for myself, I have pulled two ticks out of my skin, one of which left a worrisome wound that I may still seek medical attention for, I have suffered with my lip, which split and is slowly healing though it has made eating very difficult, and I have sunburns where my last sunburns have already peeled away. My spinal cord is aching and compressed, my shoulders burn and scream for help and my toes beg for a new pair of socks and to be trated more fairly. Worst of all, though, my left ankle is twisted and needed rest even before I hobbled 16 extra miles, further spraining it.
But the body heals - I don't mean to sound like I am complaining, for I knew of the consequences before I started. I want to be clear: I can walk twenty miles a day and carry 55 pounds on my back. I can climb mountains and traverse snow cliffs. I can perservere through tough labor, climbing mountains and worse, descending steep paths. I can even mend wounds, wrap ankles, remove ticks and sleep in the same tent every night. These things are of the flesh, and can be overcome by the mind - the wounds that I am still batteling with are the one's of heart: Leaving those I love behind, being away from a lover and our youthful love, being away from the clean Oregon air and the smogless sky, and beautiful Oregon beaches and the summer surf.
As with all things, there is one thing I have learned very well: Many hikers hike the PCT with such light-weight gear that though they do no have the same burden, they are never as comfortable or as prepared. Some carry so much that they cannot stop to smell the roses, but they are able to confront every situation that arrises. Life is about choosing your battles, and I am currently fighting the good fight.
Our first ressuply box was not sent ahead to a post office, but instead to the Saufley residence, where Jeff and Donna Saufley live with their numerous dogs and horses. They call their house "Hiker Haven" and it is just that. Upon entering the gate, you are greeted by a sign that says "Welcome! You have come to the right place, if we are not here, just make yourselves at home around the corner in the guesthouse." Jeff, however, was home, and greeted us warmly by taking us around the corner to take our packs off infront of a large trailer that was to be our house for the coming days. You take your packs off, have a cold beer or soda, and walk to the garage of their house to start visit. There, infront of you, is a large kiosk with all the information you need to know and didn't about the PCT, including water report, snow report and trail condititons, as well as trail angels in other towns and so on. There is also a large metal rack, upon which sits cleans towels, clean shirts, clean shorts and flip flops for up to 20 hikers atleast, with intructions to take one of each, and go take the most beautiful shower of your life. After a week of hiking, we were gitty at the idea.
After your shower, you dawn on your new shirt and shorts, and put all your dirty clothes into a provided laundry basket, and then Donna, the "Laundress", will wash all of your clothes for you. Then it's all R&R, anything from watching one of the hundreds of movies available, reading any of the books on the shelves, internet access, piano, guitar, full kitchen and free food, explore the hiker boxes (if you don't know what those are, you are missing out) or just lounge around in the hammock our chairs in the beautiful yard. You could even explore the garage more to find funny articles, hiker tips, all the PCT hiker's ressuply boxes alphabatized and separated, and not one but TWO sets of keys - each one belonging to a car you can use "on the honor system". One seats 8, one seats 5, one's a stick and the other an automatic. I am not kidding.
The Saufleys are so infamous on the trail for their kindness, that after we arrived yesterday and had begun pouring through our ressuply, some cameramen showed up and started doing interviews for a documentary/reality DVD about the PCT, and even asked Trip and I for camera time!
But you pay the price for the kindness given on the trail, and such is the balance of life. To my knowledge, no hiker has come through the Saufleys without deserving the hospitality through intense labor.
Throughout the last 6 days, Trip, Louie and I have seen some of the most beautiful parts of Southern California that until now, I refused to believe even existed. On day one, we traversed snow cliffs, and climbed strait up Mount Baden Powell through 4 feet of snow, trail completely covered and hidden, strait to the summit and crest, from which we spend the coming night and next day postholing out of. On day two we rode an avalanche down the mountains, road walked for miles, and camped in the most beautiful spot on top of a grassy hill wil perfect view of the setting sun. Day 3 had us in forests and deserts, days 4 and 5 in chaparrelles and grass-covered rolling hills. We've stopped hourly to gaze over the beautiful Earth, to sit in a perfect bluff and eat lunch over valleys and canyons, or to rest as long 5 o'clock shodows brought the hills to life. Not a day goes by that I don't wonder how I could possibly be happy in a city or sleeping in a house.
And yet, not a day goes by that I don't wish I was in a city eating a cheeseburger, or sitting infront of the Super Nintendo about to fall asleep on the couch. For every moment of true bliss, we have been pummeled by the reality of the world, and the price we pay for happiness.
As of now, our injuries of few and unsevere. Only speaking for myself, I have pulled two ticks out of my skin, one of which left a worrisome wound that I may still seek medical attention for, I have suffered with my lip, which split and is slowly healing though it has made eating very difficult, and I have sunburns where my last sunburns have already peeled away. My spinal cord is aching and compressed, my shoulders burn and scream for help and my toes beg for a new pair of socks and to be trated more fairly. Worst of all, though, my left ankle is twisted and needed rest even before I hobbled 16 extra miles, further spraining it.
But the body heals - I don't mean to sound like I am complaining, for I knew of the consequences before I started. I want to be clear: I can walk twenty miles a day and carry 55 pounds on my back. I can climb mountains and traverse snow cliffs. I can perservere through tough labor, climbing mountains and worse, descending steep paths. I can even mend wounds, wrap ankles, remove ticks and sleep in the same tent every night. These things are of the flesh, and can be overcome by the mind - the wounds that I am still batteling with are the one's of heart: Leaving those I love behind, being away from a lover and our youthful love, being away from the clean Oregon air and the smogless sky, and beautiful Oregon beaches and the summer surf.
As with all things, there is one thing I have learned very well: Many hikers hike the PCT with such light-weight gear that though they do no have the same burden, they are never as comfortable or as prepared. Some carry so much that they cannot stop to smell the roses, but they are able to confront every situation that arrises. Life is about choosing your battles, and I am currently fighting the good fight.
posted by Ryan | 8:12 AM
1 comments
1 Comments:
I am amazed by both of you. You are deeply envied and missed by a certain 17 year old coffee barista.
Give Louie my love!
Post a Comment
<< Home