Pacific Crest Trail (2019) 10: Digging for Relics

Sunday, March 24, 2019

The wind was terrible overnight. Sand blew into my face when I tried to sleep facing the door, and the walls kept pushing against my sleeping bag. In the morning I apologized to Magoo, whose tent was pitched beside mine. He said with a completely straight face that he hadn’t heard my tent at all, but had removed the fly of his tent because its flapping was annoying him. I’m going to believe that and reference it during any future occasions of people criticizing me for allowing my tent within twenty metres of sleeping humans. I overheard a non-hiker saying that he was afraid his tent stakes would pull out, because the last thing he ever wants to do is leave his tent during the night. You speak for all of us, kind sir.

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My tent floor in the morning

Today was a rest day at the RV park. Most of the dune buggy group left in the morning (ugh sand is crunching between my teeth) and so did Magoo, so there’s suddenly a lot of empty space. I excavated my gear, bought a whole pizza, read a novel borrowed from the laundry room, and listened to three girls make fun of the playground in phrases pulled straight from the Internet hive-mind. Yesterday I was considering leaving, with the dangerous and erroneous philosophy of ‘no campsite could be worse than this one’, but the absence of wind throughout the day persuaded me to stay. A hiker named Bumblebee showed up, then a German hiker whose name I haven’t gotten. There’s no wind and the only music is softly playing Nirvana. 

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