The first day back on the trail, psychologically, was the hardest. Unlike the first day on the PCT, this time I was well aware of the difficulties that lay ahead. Worse, I had a better appreciation for the people and the things I was leaving behind. And, of course, 45 minutes before Erin and I reached the trailhead I got the call from my mom letting me know Grandma Jean had passed. Erin could see I didn't want to talk about it, and she was wonderful in distracting me as best she could for the rest of our drive.
I don't want to dwell on the subject, but I guess part of my journey includes the thoughts that went through my head. First of all the wind was taken out of my sails in terms of enthusiasm for being back on the trail. I was in a bad frame of mind and, honestly, I wanted to be back in Shell Beach. I felt like sitting and watching the waves, or doing something simple and mindless like collecting sea glass. Hiking leaves far too much time for thinking. I also felt guilt and regret for not visiting one more time, despite being warned I might not have another chance. I had heard about the deteriorating condition Grandma Jean was in and, selfishly, I preferred to remember her as she used to be. I wanted to remember the energy, the walks to Nick's By The Beach, and the sly old lady who would kick your ass at cards and show no mercy. I kind of struggled with that all day.
Anyway, Erin dropped me at the trailhead at about 1:30 (pictured) and I continued hiking until about 10:30pm. The trail wound over some small hills, crossed highway 138, and turned east with the California Aqueduct. About a mile on it turns north, now following the LA Aqueduct. As opposed to the CA, which is a channel (pictured) the LA Aqueduct is a pipe, about 8 feet in diameter, that runs north for a few miles through fields of juniper and joshua trees (pictured), before turning to the northeast. I walked along the top of the pipe until it made its turn, at which point it goes underground and is covered by concrete. At this point night was fast approaching, but the smooth surface was ideal for night hiking, so I kept going.
The sunset was amazing, with the horizon slowly bleeding from one color to the next. First was dusky purple, topped with blush, then a soft yellow. Above, the sky took on hundreds of nuanced shades of blue, from robin's egg to indigo, and jet contrails cut the otherwise flawless blue with bright orange scars. I hiked in starlight for a while, which was beautiful, but had to turn on my headlamp often to check my trail. There are so many dirt roads in this area that it would be easy to get lost at night. While my headlamp was on I saw dozens of what looked like kangaroo rats, jumping about so fast their movements hardly registered.
I had planned to hike all night, by my mood, combined with poorly marked trails and an increasing headwind made me give up. After 22 miles I set up shop behind a concrete aqueduct access, where I could enjoy a little break from the wind.
