Week 5: Hello, sun in my face

Grants to Cuba

109 miles

May 26th to May 31st

Our arrival into Grants was pretty mixed. It’s Memorial weekend so another entirely desolate town was made more so by closed stores and not a living soul about.

We rejoiced at Subway for breakfast on the highway, then still had 5 miles more into the ‘heart’ (arse) of grants.

Auto repair and loan shops abundant. Many abandoned boarded up motels.

Shelley and I both indeed got our kicks on, as we thunderclapped our crippled hoofs into town on route 66 or ‘The Mother Road.’ Born in 1926 it became a powerful symbol of escape and loss. Oh how very apt.

I may just download the Grapes of Wrath, is it good?

You know, that historic laundromat?

All the hikers were at the Sands Motel. We’d planned to resupply on route as Walmart was a mile out of town (on our way in) but there was a perilous looking highway bridge which to me looked like suicide. So we just went straight to the motel.

Reunited with pals who had been sucked into a two day vortex here, we learned that they were leaving, but only a mile out of town to a trail angel who had allowed hikers to camp in her yard.

I was most pleased that we’d caught up to our pals, after the delay of the herpes.

Back with a the pack get it?

I think in weeks prior, a shower was first priority for us, but, seeing as we couldn’t do laundry until 1:00pm, and we only have one set of clothes, beer became the top job.

Everything was far away.

Shelley and I began the mammoth 16 minute walk to the gas station for beer. 7 minutes in, the man in the green cardigan (from the last blog, remember)? hollered from his truck: “Get a room you two”.

How funny to see this smiley man three times in a row. Always in that illustrious green cardi. I asked him if he fancied driving us to Walmart (as this would have been an additional hassle for us as we still needed a resupply). Of course he did.

Marc and his vehicle ended up helping us with all our many errands. He followed us around every store and verbally judged us on all the shitty food we bought. He was right, but, the best thing about hiking 3000 miles (and the primary reason I do it) is because you can eat what you damn well please. So shut it, Marc.

Snake Legs found a bottle of Oyster Bay in a liqueur store. We’d been dreaming of a cold glass of our favourite ever wine for weeks, and there it was. Then she got ID’d and we weren’t allowed it and had to leave.

Marc was a huge help, I’m so glad we told him how much we liked his cardigan the day before. He judgingly dropped us at pizza hut (the only place open to eat) were all our hiker friends had congregated.

Mass non-vegan mastication ensued.

Lunch, dinner and breakfast (and data, with his mega sunglasses tan)

We rolled our fat pizza filled bums back to the motel and moved very little from 3:00pm. Other than to the fridge, of course. The others had left for the trail angles house, we had no intention of leaving the motel, but were glad to be back on track with them again.

Day 26: Leaving (Town)

We were undecided as to whether we would take a zero or not. The morning went beautifully slowly.

Shelley immediately got to work on the town chores. Pots needed washing, bottles needed rinsing, tents needed de-sanding, podcasts needed downloading, coffee needed drinking. I lay in bed and watched Jurassic Park.

Delicious, motel breakfast

Shelley thrives in town. She has a lot of energy for getting things back in order, staying focused and an inordinate amount of energy for laundry. This suits me perfectly as I don’t.

My specialist areas lie in the on-trail jobs.

I’m not sure one can increase perfection. You’re either perfect, or you’re not, right?

Wrong.

Shelley was perfect when we began this trail, now she is more perfect.

Not just as a result of recent trauma, though in what she’s said, what she did and what she didn’t say or do, was totally perfect. But just because, I think, she was born that way. Well done Lynne and Steve.

Enough about her, let’s talk more about me.

I binned my dear littler shoes, as they had become more than useless and it felt like I was walking in Jesus’ sandals for the last two weeks. I could afford to do this as some kind loonatic had left a perfectly serviceable pair of Columbia trail shoes in my size, in the motel hiker box.

Perhaps they left them because they were horribly uncomfortable…. We’ll soon find out.

Trail life is pretty much daily roulette.

After lingering for a good while. Finishing pizza and beer from the fridge we departed.

It was midday. We hoped for 10 miles. It’s a 6 mile road walk out of grants and it is, like any other road walk. Crap.

For entertainment Shelley performed majorettes when it was required and verbally struck out against the inordinate amount of parking there was, everywhere.

We chatted with a hiker named ‘Backtrack’ from Alaska. New blood makes time fly too.

We reached the Mount Taylor trail-head and I found a dog. He was lingering. The theory was that he’d been dumped there as he was clearly well mannered and smelt pretty good…. For a dog.

He was after my water and luckily some bugger had left a takeaway cup next to the bin so I could offer this small pup a beverage which he gladly accepted. I think he drank 4 big cups. Poor pup.

Fortuitously a day hiker came off the mountain and into the trail head. He’d said the dog was there when he’d left for his hike that morning. He offered to call ‘animal control’ who would come and collect him. I do hope it all ended well.

We began a 1000m climb and it felt incredibly good to be using different muscles.

We talked about primary school. And how everything we thought was normal when we were there, turned out to be really small versions of normal things. Like chairs. I liked all my schools and feel very fortunate for that.

The trail was diverse and beautiful. I think we’d earned some of those things.

Climbing higher felt good. Really good.

We passed our 10 mile goal and stopped at a water cache at 18. Our chum Legion (Whom we met on our day 1 in the desert) was camped up already. The cache was empty bar three bottles and we knew hikers were behind us.

Luckily we had hiked up with 4 litres each and still had enough left. We’re probably very dehydrated.

6 days of food and 4 litres of water and a 1000m climb is pretty much joy surmised. We had a great time.

18 miles on the day.

I’m a genius!

Day 27: Mount Taylor

Most mornings before I wake, and most nights before I sleep, I tell myself my brother is dead. In this ulterior world, its so very easy not to believe any of it.

He hasn’t passed, he is not lost, he is dead. I feel I need to make this real because it feels so very unreal.

Our vocabulary has decreased massively. To the point where we’ve created our own glossary of words for items we use regularly, as we frequently forget what they’re actually called. For example, our walking poles are now just ‘pipes’ and our dry bags are ‘baskets’.

Snake Legs has named the globules of foam that build up next to the corners of mouths (not ours I hasten to add) she called it ‘lip pith’. And it’s one of the things she hates the most about anyone who has lip pith.

You’re welcome.

Yup, these are the things that we talk about.

The summit of Mt Taylor was 3 miles from camp. It sits at 3,449 metres, laughing at everyone.

It began as an easy climb, steep but OK. It then turned into windy, freezing, snowy hateful breathless ascending.

We were wearing all our clothes.

As Snake Legs described it, she entered the ‘death zone’ (which in reality is above 8,000 metres where you actually begin to die. But for her, it was a mile below Mt Taylor).

She has often genuinely suffered with altitude sickness which in theory begins at 2,500m. Most won’t feel the effects until above 3000, which is where we were.

The last mile to the summit was bitterly cold. There were patches of snow, easily passed and a wind that made you want to punch it or yourself, just so you could feel another sort of discomfort.

A swift summit photo and the signing of the register before a decent through old scraggy icy snow to warmer climates.

Another climb before breakfast. God damn.

The beer I’d packed out was frozen, as was (less importantly) our water, as were we.

The rest of the day was flat and beautiful, through shrub and thick forest alternating.

I felt the negative effects of not having a zero in Grants, my feet were shouting at me as they clearly had not recovered from the beating the tarmac gave them.

Water was scarce on the stretch so packs were always heavy.

Lunch and water, mixed

Lunch couldn’t have come quick enough. Luckily the beer had defrosted.

We pushed through to a difficult 20 miles.

Maps, Flip Flop, Spooky Noodle and Kate (now going by Fireball) who we believed were ahead of us, all passed our camp for a delightful chat. Turns out we’d passed their tents this morning before the summit unbeknown to us. Lazy buggers.

20 miles on the day.

Day 28: Hoofs

We were hiking by 6:15, a swift 7 miles popped out of us like walking them was similar to that of descending the stairs to the kitchen.

As we prepared to leave, fellow hiker Maps approached. Together, with new blood to quiz, the three of us walked another 8 to a spring. The first water in 15 miles and light rain came upon us.

This spring was the very worst kind of water, off-trail water. Water you have to walk extra miles to get to. We all convinced ourselves we had enough to get to the next water source 12.5 miles away, and that we actually love being dehydrated.

Knock Off (Flip Flop) arrived and joined us for lunch. Upon further reflection, Maps volunteered to make the 30 minute round trip to the water source as dehydration kills and she’s smarter than us. She took our bottles because she’s also nicer than us.

After we left we realised we hadn’t paid any consideration to the fact that the next water was another 12.5 miles away and that we hadn’t carried enough from the last water to dry camp, (camp without water).

Looks like we’re walking another 12.5 miles on top of our 15 then.

We hiked on a breezy 5 miles. Yoyoing our pals.

Maps and Knock off on the overtake

My feet are really starting to suffer. Really really. After a short break we landed on the moon. The last 3 miles were the most beautiful and the most unbelievably painful. My feet felt like they were bleeding.

Approaching the moon

As we arrived at camp I was walking as Bambi does for the very first time.

We shared our spot with Noodle, Cliff Jumper, Maps and Flip Flop. I was Christened ‘Bambi’.

We are one

I reluctantly hiked up an additional small hill to eat dinner with the sunset. It was alright I guess.

27. 2 miles on the day.

Day 29: Thunder

We were first out of camp, but Bambi (Me) was still a cripple so the going was slow. I popped a vitamin I (ibuprofen) and we made it to 5 miles before breakfast.

We’re still on the moon and it’s glorious hiking and great to have some big dramatic views.

We just made it to 10 miles before I absolutely had to have another break.

Water on this stretch has been sparse and we’ve mostly been filling up with 4 litres at a time.

We pushed on, Noodle joined us and at 14 miles we came across a cache of water, just stocked that morning. 20 gallons. Glorious.

The current team congregated at the cache and lunched as storm clouds looked ominous.

Just as we were finishing up with our mashed potato with Spooky Noodles added Tabasco (he’s my new favourite human) it began to rain.

After we left, the storm worsened, Snake Legs and I took cover under a handy overhang for the worst of it.

There looked to be no end to it so we left.

6 of us in an umbrella chain undulating up the moony terrain.

It was 6 windy, muddy, gloopy miles before the rain subsided and the sun dried us out.

A few more miles and we stumbled across a wonderful camp site.

22 miles on the day.

Day 30: to Cuba :

Today was the most beautiful of the most beautiful stretch.

We also hiked like Billy-ho, something about beers at the end of the day perhaps.

An immediate 8 miles took us to breakfast and water where we met our chum Pooch who is a real life action man. (He’d hiked 36 miles the day before). Its his birthday tomorrow so he’s hiking to town for fun times.

More incredible hiking while time flew us onto the highway.

A four mile grueling hike into Cuba, made easier by beautiful Guy Garvey.

We checked into the first motel we saw. The wonderful owner, Flora, called the almost closed Post office and told them to stay open. She drove me up immediately to collect my new shoes. What a love.

The verdict on the old ones? Don’t take shoes from hiker boxes. I have more blisters than I do toes.

Our feet are pretty broken, we need a break, so will take 1 or 2 days off here to recoup.

We went with Noodle for a massive Salad and bountiful beer.

22.5 miles on the day.

Over 500 miles and one 5th of the hike done. One more town stop until Colorado.

Let the resting commence.