Day 3, July 16 - part 2

Continued from Day 3, Part 1

Later in the day I got very tired and miserable and talked to myself about what a fine thing it is to undergo hardship and pain for love's sake (in this case my love of the trail) and how good it would be for people to understand that happiness comes from (and includes) hardship in the service of love. This little episode lasted for some time until I discovered quite by accident that I wasn't miserable anymore. Maybe it was the moment when I passed a woman hiker lying on the ground with her eyes closed and earbuds in her ear and a beatific smile on he face. "You look so beautifully relaxed" I said, and that little bit of contact shifted my mood. Her happiness was contagious I think. 

I snapped a photo (photo 6) just as I was climbing up toward a pass, and was feeling that quickening flutter of curiosity about what will I see when I reach the rise? I wanted to share that gentle excitement with you. As it turned out what I saw at that particular pass (photo 7) was pretty ho hum, but a bit later I came across this stunning view of Mt. Lassen (photo 8). The second stunning view (photo 9) is where another hiker was taking his rest break. He looked happy too. 

 

 

 

I do love the experience of catching my first glimpses of  these great mountains in the distance(sometimes not yet knowing, and wondering, what mountain is this? What is the name of this great presence?) and then slowly approaching them, having them appear and disappear and reappear, gradually growing closer and larger. I am due to enter Mt Lassen National Park on July 19 or 20 (Tuesday or Wednesday). 

Of course, all of that depends on the poop journey. 

POOP JOURNEY. I met a woman on the trail yesterday who had my same dirty girl gaiters, zPacks multipack, and Purple Rain hiking skirt (the one I wore "commando style" on the Camino because I could just spread my legs and pee. Loved it but didn't see it as that useful when I had to wear pads. ) So Alta, a 55 year old mother of children in their 20s, showed me how she just lifts her skirt, pulls aside the underpants with the same hand, and voila the whole apparatus is exposed to the air for a quick standing pee. I was struck by the fact that we not only shared the same designer labels (a source of kinship I never experienced before my passion for hiking gear, having been not much of a fashionista, though my experience with gear helps me understand some peoples' passion for clothes in a way I never have before).  But also she and I seemed to share same frank, natural lack of modesty. I think it's part of being on the trail -- for some of us anyway (a woman walked past me the other day, clearly a thru hiker, but looking perfectly groomed, including a contrasting gorgeous lavender scarf above her beautiful blue shirt. )

Anyway. The day began hopefully with an actual almost normal (soft, yes, and sudden, but the first solid poop I'd seen emerge from my anus in days). I thought days with solid poops tended to be "good" (low seepage) days. That did not turn out to be this case. On the contrary, every time I checked (which was often) my pads were filled and overflowing with real chocolate pudding type poop. None of your clear or even brown liquids. The real messy stuff. Trying to wipe my poor smeared-in-the-mess-on-the-pad bottom clean took lots from the precious store of toilet paper (and got poop on my fingers and fingerless hiking gloves -- I know I know I should have thought to take them off, but I didn't, two different times in one day. Though I changed pads probably 10 times that one day.) Thank heaven I brought some magic foamy stuff for my hands (and gloves) that promises to kill off any bad guy germs. 

Meanwhile, my supply of pads is growing dangerously low. I have 12 pads and at this rate that would get me through one or at most two days. I have 3-4 days left till my resupply. 

So...pulling out my maps, thinking of my friend Chris who used to refer to "defeat" as the unspeakable d-word, determined not to let this shit keep me from finishing my hike, I asked myself how will I cope with it?

It looks like Monday morning I come to a road crossing where I could hitch 8 miles to Chester. There I could presumably buy pads and toilet paper to my heart's content, maybe even figure out a way to do my laundry (most of you don't know that I have skin sensitivities that do not permit me to use most detergents. I send 7th generation pods in my resupply boxes, but I won't get my box til I get to Drakesbad (the national park lodge in Mt Lassen National Park) but at worst I could do them soap less and get some of the poop out of my pants.) Yes, you guessed it - some poop has inevitably dribbled from my underpants to my hiking pants. I can't believe how matter of fact I am, wiping them with a wet bandanna and then just going on. Poopy pants. It's not a mountain lion. It's not a broken leg (or skull) from a fall crossing a creek. It's not a cancer diagnosis. People deal with worse. A lot worse. 

It's not even a broken tent zipper, which I also have. So far I have taped up half the zipper length, and am hoping the "good" half will go on working for the rest of my hike. 

The world is going to poop in a hand basket, if you'll pardon my mixing of sayings. 

Thanks for walking with me -- both toward the mystery and beauty of a great mountain like Lassen and through the poop which is also very much part of the journey. 

Sending love. For our beautiful world. For the marvelous "I am here" feeling that came back several times today. Maybe even for the poopy part. 

Riv