I took a couple of days off of my 1000 words a day only two days into the challenge. But it was for a good reason. I could have dedicated myself more thoroughly and planned for contingencies, but I’m back here to report about what happened. I went backpacking! I communed with nature, I plunged into a cold alpine lake. I let all my thoughts swim around in my head without needing to be organized or get out. And now I’m here to talk about it. As I sit down to write my outline I realize this might not be the best or most succint thing Ive ever written, but I’m going to do it anyway.
The hike
K and I have been cooped up in the bus a bit. He works on building the house while I spend my time staring at a screen for my job. My job is convenient, and sometime soul igniting. However, most days at the end of the day I feel like I’ve done less than I wanted, and my eyeballs have grown a fine layer of sandpaper on top of them that I have to actively remove, for fear of it becoming permanent. More on this later.
I often advocate for time outside. K does as well. And we both find reasons to not make the effort. This weekend, though was lining up to be perfect. There is a difficult hike in northern California called the Devil’s Punchbowl. And like most things named the Devils punchbowl, its a sight to behold. We’ve done this hike before. It could easily be a difficult day hike, less than five miles in, but the destination is so epic that leaving the same day you arrived feels like an affront to beauty.
So Friday night, we packed our things and early (for us) the next morning, we headed to our cabin two hours south, where we keep our outdoor adventure supplies. It was an excuse to get breakfast burritos at the Black Anchor coffee house, our new favorite splurge, and then we were off - hitting the road only an hour and a half after my ‘no later than’ time, if we wanted to make sure we weren’t hiking in the dark. I had based this on the last time we did this trip, five years ago, when the total time on All Trails was 5 hours 28 minutes. Not sure how it took us that long to go five miles, but historical record is as good as any to make a plan on.
We hit the trailhead at 3 pm, after a dicey climb up a (mostly) paved old logging road in our 1998 Honda Civic. We used to have a Subaru forester, which was a much better off roading vehicle, but when the transmission finally died we gave it up for something more fuel efficient, thinking we’d eventually get K a work truck that could double as our adventure vehicle. We haven’t done that yet. The dicey climb included some stressful moments where we nearly turned around, to settle for a beach walk, but the little civic perservered. K decreed that the civic is officially retired from offroading after this weekend though. Now we’ve gotta get serious about that work truck.
The hike is short, and the first two miles are easy. Then, with very little fanfare, you take a sharp right hand turn near an old barkless log which has one of those forest service carved wood signs that says “Devil’s Punchbowl”.
The next 2 plus miles are religious.
Upon taking the sharp right hand turn, you have to climb over a log and then climb over 1000 feet in less than a mile. It is still on trail, but I’m not sure why they bothered. There are switchbacks with some of the tursn being less than five feet apart. Its a slog, and you have to just accept the fate that comes with marching vertically if you are going to complete the hike.
When the vertical ascent is over, you still ahve another 1000 feet to climb, but this time its over the course of about a mile and half, so totally doable. Except that its a sheer rock scramble that, fortunately is over some abrasive granite that at least keeps your boots glued to their face. If you did take a tumble, I’m sure the rocks would try to take your skin.
And then, there it is. A jade blue alpine lake set against a sheer rock face cliff up to a mountain peak. The chitter of birds and chipmunks announcing your arrival, and the glory of the sun hititng your skin after true hard effort. We drop our packs, and because it was so late (though not yet dark), we begin to set up our tent and make our well deserved dinner. It only took us two and a half hours to make the climb this time - what were we even doing five years ago when it took us nearly six hour of travel time?
Listening to nature
Once at the lake, watching the sun set and cast a great light show on the sheer rock face above the water, we began to watch evening’s nature come to life.
Bats swooped and darted across the waters edge, doing their best to make sure K and I didnt get destroyed by mosquitos. The soprano whirr of crickets came to life, reminding us that silence isn’t nature - its anything but. The bushes which had been rustling before the show started, now seemed to add a bit of percussion to the overture.
The sky faded from bright light blue to to a darker hue that made us sleepy. The first star appeared at the zenith, as it always does. K and I both shifted from sitting on the rock watching nature to ambing toward our shelter. It was only 8 pm, but thats what happens when you come to nature to be embraced by her. Theres not need to linger, if you body calls for rest.
And our bodies did call for rest. But as is tradition, my first night sleeping outside is always a bit fitful, even if I am bone tired. I was a bit stuffed up, and so my snoring also kept K away. Though he’s compassionate enough to never complain about it. My sleep comes and goes in intense waves, where I fully dive head first into a complex dream scape, then wake up mid toss.
We had opted not to use the rain fly for a low chance of rain. This choice was made because it was forcast to be a fairly warm night, and the clear sunset made us both hope for a star show. Since we knew sleep might be light, its at least nice to see the unadulterated stars through our tent window between intense sleep sessions.
Its common enough for me to see the night sky, but it really is easy to forget how brilliant it is when the glow of humans can’t touch its perifery. If you haven’t seen this in a while, please, make sure you do. There is nothing quite as spiritual as looking, really searching though the cosmos during our window into the galaxy at night. I started stargazing and backyard astronomering when i was a young girl, and the sense of awe, peace, and communion with something larger than me is every greater each time I peep the cosmos.
The value of doing hard things
Not everything that is hard pays off with spectacular views and a sense of peace. Sometimes doing hard things, as long as they are for betterment of something and are generally balanced acts, are not going to give you the immediate gratification that a hike to a pristine natural place will. Sometimes doing hard things is important just for the fact of them.
If nothing else, the value of doing hard things comes in the resiliency and confidence that doing such a hard thing is bound to imbue you with. Pushing you body past a limit that you thought you had opens a whole world of opportunity for things you can do. Finishing a book, even if nobody reads it is a testament to your disciple and ability to see things through to the end. Working though a hard time in a relationship is worth it in the spiritual bounty you’ll recieve when both parties heal and grow from the mutual challenge.
I’m not saying that everything you do should be a ‘hard thing’. But if you do hard things from time to time, your body, mind and spirit will grow towards a better future. Keep that in mind the next time you say you can’t do something. Do you want to be better? Then poke at it. Even an attempt at something hard, even if you fail, gives you more resiliency and courage to try again. Because failing didnt hurt that much did it? You’re still here, and now you have more courage to try a hard thing once again.
Closing thoughts
Our quick trip was not a large production but it was a quite large effort. And it was worth it for a lot of reasons. I spend most of my days string at a computer screen, connecting to people using electrons and networks that I don’t fully understand. Unplugging is such a neccessary and required habit that almost nobody does. It really brings you back to your humanity, and reminds you that nothing really matters.
I like to say that nothing really matters, but that can come off a bit nihilistic. I don’t mean it to. Maybe theres a better way to say it. What I really mean is that everything is transitory, and all of those stressful projects you’ve (I’ve) got on my plate can wait. Or not get done. And its okay. We’ve got forever, I really believe. Even if we only get one life, the energy you leave here will outlast you, and your intentions and ideas will not die with you. So take some time, do some hard things because you can, set good intentions, and commune with nature. Live the legacy you want to leave and the legacy will work it self out.