Mission Creek area. See page
105 of your guidebook. It
looks exactly like that.
Some days you just aren't in
the mood for picture taking...
These are called "Sunny
Side Up" A hard name to
stomach for a hungry
hiker.
A bee indulges in a spot of
breakfast.
Then, the trail became steeper as we ascended further into the mountains. At times, it is my feeling that the guidebook does not describe the steepness of the trail as clearly as I would like, but I am getting used to some of the definitions. For example:
1. "Your well graded trail leads to the ridge top."
Translation: (straightforward) your well-graded trail leads to the ridge top.
2. "The trail gets down to business"
Translation: getting down to business is NEVER good and usually involves me sweating a lot.
3."The trail is overly steep"
Translation: WILD Animals escaping captivity tore over the hill. You follow them.
I think the guidebook should be written in "weakest person" terms. That way everyone feels good about his or her progress. If it said, for instance, "with what feels like your last breath of air, you claw your way up the mountain" the strong hiker feels superior and the wimp feels like the description was perfect.
The trail isn't really that steep, but the heat makes it seem worse than it is. My legs feel like they have lead in them and my blisters throb. I think we need a system that's equivilant to the wind-chill factor. The heat-grade factor. For every degree over 100 degrees, add 2 percent grade to your trail. I'll have to work something out.
Scott is always much faster on the ascents. Well, lets face it; he is much faster all the time, but especially on the ascents. My most common sight of Scott on any given hiking day is him standing on the upcoming ridge waiting for me.
As I approached him panting after one particularly difficult ascent he said, "You know, if you ever decide that you don't want to stop and rest, that's fine. We can move on." As I gasped in air, I scanned his face for sarcasm, but there was none. I reacted badly to this statement. He then reminded me that apparently, in the past, I had made a statement to the effect that sometimes, it is hard to get started again after I've stopped. He had chosen a bad moment in which to inflict this consideration on me.
We managed to travel 18 miles that day. I can't imagine how. We camped on a ridge with fabulous views of Mt. San Jacinto turning purple in the evening light with the lights of Palm Springs glittering beneath.