Day 2: Lake Morena to Long Canyon

After yesterday's heat, today's weather was another shock to the system. We set off on the trail into a misty fog, sheltered under a canopy of mossy oak trees.  We hiked on a damp, sandy tread, watching the occasional cottontail rabbits scamper across the trail in front of us.

As we approached Boulder Oaks Campground, the terrain transitioned from arid, chapperal and cactus covered hills to oak-lined, flower-filled fields littered with lupines, paintbrush, and tiny, delicate flowers in all shades of purple, yellow, and white. When we arrived at the campground my parents were waiting with cold drinks, crisp Ambrosia apples, and crunchy, salty Fritos corn chips.

We made slow progress in the afternoon, and at 5:00 we found ourselves on the side of a ridge, miles away from Long Canyon, the nearest source of water and camping. But with no alternatives, we pressed on, arriving just as the sun was slipping behind the ridge.

My brother had cut a sheet of Tyvek for us to use as a ground cloth. Sierra was delighted to discover that her cousins had decorated it with pictures and messages wishing her good luck on the trail. My favorite picture was of a mother and daughter blazing down the trail under the light of a crescent moon and a star-filled sky. It seemed appropriate somehow, as we sat identifying Orion, the Big Dipper, and several other constellations while we ate our dinner.

Day 1: Campo to Lake Morena

"A journey of 1,000 miles (or 2,665+) begins with a single step."

We woke to the tips and howls of a nearby pack of coyotes surrounding their prey. All too soon those nighttime sounds were replaced by the chirps, caws, clucks, coos, and chirrings, of countless wild turkeys, roosters, jays, morning doves, and many other species.

Although Campo is over 20 miles from Lake Morena by trail, it is only a short drive. We soon arrived at the border and, after the obligatory photos at the trail monument, we were on our way.

The trail gently climbs over rolling hills covered with burned chapperal, blooming century plants, several varieties of cacti, and a multitude of hardy spring flowers. The temperature also rose, but not nearly so gradually. It was HOT, and after spending the last months skiing, we were not prepared for instant summer.

As we hiked, we leapfrogged several other hikers, all of whom seemed to be suffering in the heat. We also spied several pieces of abandoned gear next to the trail: a gray hooded sweatshirt, hanging on a branch, a pair of heavy khaki dockers, a Thermarest Neoair mattress, a weathered journal with yellowing pages, a new pair of Black Diamond ski gloves, neatly placed on a rock, and a hat hooked over a fence post. We wondered about the stories behind each abandoned item. Had the owners, exhausted by the heat and overwhelmed by the weight of their packs just tossed them aside in frustration?

It was late afternoon when we reached Hauser Creek at mile 16, the only water source between Campo and Mt. Laguna. The "creek" was actually a stagnant pond, thick and murky with unidentified green, mossy plants growing in it. I stepped across in a single step, determined to continue to Lake Morena without stopping for water. But the climb to the lake was hot and steep, and my bottle was almost empty. I pulled out my filter and hoped for the best.

Fortunately, the water did not taste as disgusting as it looked. Refreshed by the water we made good time up the steep climb to the lake, where we enjoyed cold drinks, fresh food, and hot showers.

Ready to Begin

Today we are heading to the border. It feels strange to be riding in an air-conditioned car on Highway 395, whizzing past familiar trailheads we hope to hike past in the next two months: Taboose, Onion Valley, Whitney Portal, Horseshoe Meadows, Kennedy Meadows.

Today we will drive just under 400 miles to the border. It will take us about 7 hours. But the trail takes over 800 miles to reach the mountains above our home, and it will take us two months to get there.

We are now camped at Lake Morena (elevation 3,065) in the oak woodlands near the small border town of Campo, California. Tomorrow it all begins.

Training

A few weeks ago, when I was at the doctor's office, I asked him what I could do to prevent injury on the trail. "Hike," he replied without hesitation. He went on to explain that many hikers did not hike enough miles in training and, too often the training miles are on flat terrain that does not simulate the PCT.

"But it is really hard to get in enough miles when Sierra has ski team each weekend" I explained. He just looked at me and chuckled. "I didn't say that Sierra needed to train," he laughed. "Sierra has eight-year-old knees".

After so many people questioning whether an 8-year-old could really hike the PCT, my dawning realization that my doctor clearly thought that I, not Sierra, was the weak link in the chain, struck me as both sobering and humorous. And so I train, running with Sierra several times each week and then donning a pack for a long hike and/or cross country ski at least one day each weekend, while Sierra is shredding the snow.

This weekend's destination was Buttermilk Country, best known for the Buttermilk boulders (a bouldering mecca), but also home to miles of trails and dirt roads that are below snow line for most of the year.  Bumping over the washboards on Buttermilk Road I could feel my teeth rattling in my head, but I did not have to drive far before I reached my trailhead, with its sandy, snow-free trail and constant views of Basin Mountain and Mt. Tom, pictured below.

After spending the previous day on the snow, it was strange to be hiking in the high desert wearing only a T-shirt and shorts.  And after years of backpacking and trying to get my pack as light as possible by eliminating what I don't absolutely need it was also strange to be carrying a pack full of dead weight.  But carrying a full pack is better training, so I stuffed my pack with two different tents, 3 extra liters of water, and several other useless items.

Even with a full pack, the miles went by quickly, and the high desert solitude was a welcome contrast to the noise and relative crowds of Mammoth Mountain.

Moonlight Training

"What time is it?" Sierras voice mumbled from underneath the covers.

"5 o'clock in the morning, time to get up" I replied, although the clock on Sierra's table clearly said 4:00, as we had failed to make it "spring forward" to Daylight Savings Time the night before.  Sierra dressed quickly, and we were soon on the road to Mammoth, for early morning ski team training.

You might think that ski team training at 6:45 a.m. the morning after the time change is cruel and unusual punishment for the parents who, after all, have to drive their kids to the mountain and then can't even ski until the lifts open to the public at 8:00 or 8:30.  But in truth, early morning training is even more difficult for the coaches, who have to arrive even earlier to check conditions, get the lifts going, and then set practice courses in icy snow, only to remove them when the lifts open to the public two hours later.  I really can't say enough about the wonderful, dedicated team of coaches (and race department crew) at Mammoth Mountain!

Thankfully, this weekend's early morning training happened to coincide with a waning, nearly full moon, adding to the pale, tentative glow of dawn. 

The kids had a great time training, and were thoroughly exhausted by the end of the day!

Speed Trap!

Speed Trap! Those two little words bring fear to the hearts of BMW owners across the nation. Most people hear the words "speed trap" and immediately picture a highway patrol car complete with radar gun, hiding on the bushes or around the next corner, just waiting to tag the white Beemer that just tailgated you and then reached 90 before completing its pass. But at Mammoth, the words speed trap bring fear to one's heart for an entirely different reason. Once a year Mammoth ski team hosts the Footloose Speed Trap, a straight downhill race where results are recorded in miles per hour (your speed when you reach the bottom) rather than elapsed times. For kids who like to go fast, the chance to straight line a black diamond run is the stuff dreams are made of. But for nervous parents, it can be a nightmare.

Fortunately for me, I had no nightmares. Instead I spent a restless night asking "what if?". What if she falls? What if she breaks something? What if we have to cancel our trip? What if, what if, what if. But by morning I put on my supportive ski team parent face, and pretended not to worry. And when another J6 parent explained to us that the J6 kids start lower than the older kids and said his daughter was just hoping to break 40 mph, I stopped worrying.

But the first J6 boy clocked in at just over 59 mph. He was followed by a string of boys and girls whose speeds ranged between 50 to 56 mph. Then one of the J6 boys broke the 60 mph barrier, clocking in at just over 60 mph. I was just telling Jeff that I thought Jordan would be 60 mph too, when Sierra got on course. Pushing off with a few powerful skating strides, Sierra quickly got herself into a low tuck. When she reached the bottom the announcer called out her speed: 58.226 mph! The fastest girl so far.

Of course, Sierra's friend Jordan was yet to come, and when she did my prediction came true. Over 61 mph, the fastest J6 time, beating all the boys! As soon as she heard Jordan's time Sierra clicked out of her skies and ran up the hill to congratulate her, giving Jordan a hug that ended with Sierra, Jordan, and Jordan's mom in a dog pile on the snow. Sierra was so excited about Jordan getting first place that Sierra seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she herself had gotten second place!

I think it finally sunk in at the Awards Ceremony afterward, where U.S. Ski Team athlete Stacey Cook was on hand to sign posters and hand out awards.  Thanks Stacey!

Hurry Up and Wait

Hurry up and wait is the mantra of the ski team mom. Hurry up to get to the mountain early to register for the race, then wait for training or course inspection to begin. Hurry up to get to the race course, then wait for the race to begin. Hurry up to get to a good spot to view the race, then wait for your child's turn.  With both the 2012 Kittridge Fun Cup and the second Junior Village Championship series races this weekend, we knew we had a busy weekend, with plenty of standing around and very little skiing, in store.

It never ceases to amaze me how independent an 8 year old can be.  Although I rushed to put on my boots so that I could help Sierra register for the race, she managed to register on her own and was coming down the stairs by the time I got to the lodge.  A few minutes later we were both on the snow, getting in some early runs before she met the team to preview the course.  Jeff and I headed off for some skiing of our own, returning to the race course just before the event started.

Photographing a ski race with a DLSR is hard enough ... photographing a ski race with an iPhone or pocket camera is next to impossible!  But I was determined to try to snap of photo of Sierra as she raced by, so I stood next to the race course, iPhone at the ready, waiting for Sierra to ski by.  As soon as I spotted her, I snapped the picture and got a beautiful shot of ... an empty race course.  Somehow I managed to snap the photo just after she skied past, and just before the other racer (skiing side-by-side, in dual slalom format) skied into my frame.  But the race was dual slalom format, best of two runs, so I tried again.  This time I tried to anticipate when Sierra would ski into the frame:

Sierra was excited about both of her ski runs.  Of course, anything can happen in ski racing, and this race was not on the Live Timing website, so we walked into the awards ceremony not knowing the final results.  I was just reminding Sierra that she should be proud of her ski runs but remember that even the best ski racers don't always win when Tom Cage (race announcer and owner of Kittridge Sports, sponsor of the race) announced "And in third place, Sierra Burror!"