Last blog entry...for a while...maybe

(Mike)
During the next week or two, we might be a bit isolated, (internettedly speaking). (Upon arriving at the Tehatchapi Post Office last week, Jan was delivered a "If my Mom comes in, please tell her to call me" message by the postmaster). Our next (brief--for resupplies only) stop will be at Onyx (boasting nothing more than a post office and a "c-store"). Then from there, we plan a forcemarch (actually, only a couple days) to the ominous and significant (to PCT hikers) place called Kennedy Meadows (South). For us, this will mark the end of the desert and the beginning of the "High Sierras". It has been a favored topic of conversation, striking fear into the hearts of hikers from places like Florida and Mississippi, etc. (and us, as well). A whole new ballgame is in the offing, and we're not so sure we're adequately prepared for the snow which, this year, totals about 100% more than anyone can remember. Anyway, K.M. is likely to not have any internet service and so we'll likely be incommunicado until we reach Lone Pine, a bit further up the trail.

We had to make an unplanned side trip out to this lovely, pleasant and tiny town of Kernville. This berg of around 1,500 friendly people sits at about 3,000' elevation, pretty low in comparison to the "high desert" stuff through which we've been hiking these past few weeks--it is desert though, and is closely bordered on each side by tall, rocky (and really quite beautiful) hills that i'd guess must be at least 3,000' higher. Those "hills" also happen to be some of which we will likely be climbing over in the 100 degree heat which has been predicted for tomorrow, when we plan to leave here.

On the day before yesterday (coincidentally, a short time after I had carelessly remarked to Jan how lucky and clever we had been up to that point in that neither of us had so much as tripped or taken a fall in the, by then 600 miles we'd come!), I slipped, fell and jammed my right little finger into the ground. It hurt big time, but fortunately I am equipped with an extensive and inclusive vocabulary with which to handle such events. My pinky didn't fare well, and was now pointing in a new direction beginning at the joint. It was very ugly!

Obviously, medical intervention was called for, but realistic options were limited: it was mid-afternoon, we were 9 miles from the nearest trail head, no cell phone coverage, we were both tired, and my finger hurt (and it was bleeding too, dammit).

We figured that, at the trail head 9 miles distant (which was alongside a paved road), we might have cell service with which we could call for help (we had a phone number), so we bravely marched on, arriving at the road (in total darkness, by head lamp) at around 10:00PM, pitched our tent on the only semi-level spot we could find (right in the middle of the trail), and I began a full insomnient night of vocalizing my digital discomfort with Jan.

Next morning (like maybe about 50 or 60 hours later, it seemed) we arose and tried the cell phone (no coverage!)--by this time I had depleted my reservoir of expletives. We took a look at the "paved road" to which we had hiked (the pavement wasn't immediately obvious, sand having blown over a large portion of it--a paucity of tire tracks completed the picture, and moreover, we didn't even know in which way civilisation lay. Everyone knows that in order to effectively hitch-hike, one traditionally points one's thumb in the preferred direction of travel, so we made an arbitrary decision, the futility of which became apparent when, after 2 hours, not a single vehicle appeared. (Think "Gobi Desert", or maybe a hot "Siberia".) That place was desolate! Our prospects were looking bad until another hiker (with a vicinity map, no less!) happened along and pointed us in the direction of Hwy. 178 (a daunting 20 miles away).

Well, we left the trail head at around 8:30AM, walked for about an hour, and in 3 miles or so, came upon a USFS ranger parked, eating a sandwich in his pickup (this guy was NOT gonna get away!). It turned out his wife is a Nurse Practitioner, he drove us the 25 or 30 miles to the hospital at Mountain Mesa, and there left me in competent hands. By 10:30, my pinky was being x-rayed in an E.R., and things were really looking up. X-rays revealed a dislocation rather than a broken finger, and the Doc offered me a choice of an injection of novacain followed by a single twist and jerk of my distorted digit or (his preferred option): doing the job without the dope. I opted for the cowardly, sissy-wawa procedure and the only minor twinge of discomfort I sensed was when he stuck the needle into the back of my finger (it felt as though someone were sticking a needle into the back of my finger!). Immediately after a massaging twist of the knuckle, I regained nearly full movement of the finger, and the pain had subsided significantly.

OK. End of that story.

Wind: we are pleased to be nearing the end of "wind". It seems as though everywhere we've gone there has been wind (and that, of course, includes the 12 or 15 miles we spent walking right through the Tehatchapi wind farm complex--an interesting and uncomfortable experience--4,000 huge windmills harnessing some of the allegedly most powerful winds on Earth. We have often been blown right off the trail.

Dry, windy and (well, frankly) a little bit ugly. It seems that there are a few things in California about which the Beach Boys did not sing.

At the hospital, I weighed
myself. 166 lbs: down by about 17 lbs., and I don't know what to do about it. Can't eat any more, can't carry any more food. I'm at about my high school freshman year weight. 'gonna do some serious eatin' when this hike is done.

I think the really swell stuff is just ahead (beyond Kennedy
Meadows). Jan's spirits are lifted as well.
Jan sacrificed her nail file to use as a splint.



The E.R. Surgeon's product.




Onward!




Someone was pretty happy with this benchmark.



Etc., etc.



All in a row. Rows and rows, everywhere there is wind, for maybe 40 or so miles along the trail.



How's this for scenery. No Beach Boys' song subject here.



Lovely ash trees in the Kernville median strip.



The Kern River passes through town (at about double it's usual capacity). It is said that this weather is melting the
Sierra snows at the rate of 1' per week. At that rate, when we
arrive there, there might be only 20' of snow covering the trail!

Alright, now Jan has some
thoughts.

(Jan) Kernville is HOT! What that means is gorgeous mornings and warm nights. This morning, I willingly (knowing I was not hiking 20 miles) got up before the sun and took my complimentary motel coffee outside to sit in the chair swing on our little patio and worked a crossword. Last evening, we sat around the pool here and enjoyed a beer and the fragrance of prolific Star Jasmine under a clear sky with a nearly full moon and temps in the 70's. Ahhhh....hiking is not so bad afterall!

My new backpack seems to be working out--now if I could just get the weight down. When we finish this next stretch we should not have to worry so much about water and that will mean we can cut down on our weight by 2 lbs per liter. The saying is, "as the weight goes down, the pleasure goes up". Of course, at K.M. we must each start carrying a bear can for our food which weighs 2 1/2 lbs before we fill it up. (Michele. don't be surprised to see a few more boxes of clothes and other essentials coming back your way).
Time for a siesta--love to all.
Mike and Jan

Location:Kernville, Ca.