September 24, 2008 Pacific Crest Trail

Destination: Hopkins Lake, Pasayten Wilderness
Miles: 26.3

Adrian: Marathon day! Rainy today.

Kirsten: We camped last night on our own and ended up spending the entire day alone as well. As much as I like our friends, it seemed fitting for today to be more solitary. Hiking as a group is usually a lot of fun, but I've found I need a break every few days. This is an odd development for me because I tend to be pretty social back in the non-trail world. I've developed a protectiveness lately over my time alone on the trail, which I can't really explain. I think it may be related to how free I feel when it's just Adrian and me. There are no group discussions on where to camp etc., we stop and rest, eat and camp when we happen upon the perfect moment or spot. Anyway, it was good to be alone and then run into Landshark, Caterpillar and Jesse at our intended camp. Tomorrow we'll finish together.

The weather couldn't seem to decide what it wanted to do changing from snow to partly cloudy skies to a spitting rain throughout the day. We've been blessed with good weather throughout Washington and so I can't really complain now. Well I can. I'm going to try not to.

I am struggling to pinpoint exactly how I feel with only one day remaining. For one of the few times in my life, I am at a loss for words. This trail has become my life. And my life these days is about walking, eating and sleeping. Oh, and many hours of thinking. You might think I spent a lot of time mulling the world's problems around in my mind. It would be far more accurate to say I spent a lot of time thinking about food and my past. The strangest memories would suddenly hit me and then I'd spend the rest of the morning or afternoon reminiscing about that moment. I thought a lot about my grandmother, Mama, who died in 2002. This was a long time ago, I know. Still, from time-to-time she would slip into my thoughts and I'd find myself bringing her up-to-date on the day. I had many horrific and tragic daydreams as well picturing something happening to Adrian or one of my siblings or in many cases, to myself. What would I do? How would I feel? Would I crawl under the warm blanket of depression or would I rise above it and somehow do something brilliant to help myself and other family survive the loss?

I rarely had control over what I thought about on any given day. Actually it would be more accurate to say, I gave up trying to control what popped into my head somewhere in the first 200 miles. Tomorrow should be interesting. God, who knows what will be swimming around up in my noggin in those last few miles.