Pacific Crest Trail (2019) 74: Love You Zpacks and My Tent

Monday, May 27, 2019 – 11.30 miles

I woke up at 4:30 AM. My tent was drooping beneath snow, so I braved the cold to brush it off before it could melt and wet my tent. Or that’s what I tried to do, but immediately discovered that oops – that’s not snow, that’s ice! Or to be more specific, a thin layer of snow embedded in ice.

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I was camped low in the canyon, with no chance of a quick melt in the friendly morning sunshine. Finally I carried the tent up to a patch of sunlight beside the trail and picked off the ice with the help of the sun. Tent + ice = definitely not ultralight.

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I finally got walking at 8:00 AM, soon passing Camp Glenwood. I don’t know whether PCT hikers are allowed to camp in the tent sites beside the cabin or whether they’re for private use, but they’re nice. Attached to the sign were postcards with an image of the cabin and a slot to put them in to be mailed for free. I didn’t want anyone to have to pay to mail something internationally for me, but I took a postcard. Am I getting old if I suddenly think that collecting postcards is a cute idea? By the way, shouldn’t I start raising cats?

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On-trail post office
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I entered the Station Fire burn area, a section of trail once notorious for poodle dog bush. Today most of it looked dead and none was growing across the trail.

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I considered trying to whittle some tent stakes, but the local sticks had the strength of a Zpacks hiking pole extender (love you Zpacks). I would also have trouble trusting something made with my own two hands, except for food. I firmly believe that I’m less likely to poison myself than someone else is to poison me.

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Blending yuccas
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Fiddleneck Spring was just a splotch of wet earth, but Fountainhead Spring was running strong. There were many established tentsites nearby on Pacifico Mountain. The views were so beautiful, and the many rocks and sticks were so accommodating to someone without tent stakes, that I decided to camp.

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The wind has picked up, but I’ve gathered enough rocks so that I feel confident my tent won’t be going anywhere. I’ve never had a day when I’ve spent more time disassembling my tent, assembling my tent and cursing at my tent (love you tent).

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