I spent the night in town, filling up on milkshakes, pizza, and beer then ventured out the next morning. We had a bit of a road walk out of town and then turned into a vast open desert. Our destination loomed at us from the other side. Finally, mountains. I popped in a podcast and got moving through the sand that seemed to have a billion tracks going every direction. Totally engrossed in the story that was unfolding in my ears, I didn't realize when I turned off trail and walked over a mile in the wrong direction. I paused, realizing I hadn't seen a trail marker in too long, swore at myself, and turned around to shame walk back to the trail. Once back on track, I made it to the base of the mountains and started the gradual hike up. As we climbed higher, and higher, the sun shrank lower in the sky, trying to duck behind the rolling hills. I tripped and looked down to see the number 100 formed from a few rocks in the middle of the trail. Wow, a hundred miles already. I couldn't help thinking in my head "great, one thirtieth of the way there." I came upon a windmill that would be our next water source, after 2 dry cow troughs, and decided to set up camp. My legs were tired from the extra mileage and there wasn't water for another ten miles. I didn't set up my tent, I hadn't set it up at all on this trip so far and figured it was unnecessary. I curled into my sleeping bag and closed my eyes. A few minutes later, I was swarming with ants. All over my face, gear, grown sheet, everywhere. I got up and set up my tent in the dark. As I was knocking in the last stake, I heard a rustle in the bushes and quickly turned around. There, about ten feet away was a tiny rabbit, silhouetted in the light from my headlamp. Instead of bolting in the other direction, he hesitantly hopped closer. All the way until he was at my feet, sniffing my socks. I stayed frozen and looked around to see if anyone else was experiencing this. When I looked back down, he was gone. The icy chill of the desert night was getting to me so I climbed back into my bag, now safely in my tent, and fell asleep quickly. It was a bitter cold night and the creaking of the windmill in the wind sounded like distant screams. When I opened my eyes that morning, no part of me wanted to get out of my sleeping bag. I put on all my layers and ventured out anyways. I moved quickly to try to get warm and was thankful for the uphill climb that popped out to the other side of the ridge, where the sun would be. When I reached the high point, it took my breath away. I'm still not sure if it was the cold or that I hadn't seen so far in all directions yet. For a moment, you feel like you're on top of the world. I cruised downhill to an impromptu water cache where a few friends were taking lunch and decided to join them. One had decided to get off trail and maybe try his hand at the appalachian trail instead. They were both discussing thoughts about truly wanting to be here or if this was the answer to other problems. I couldn't help myself as I blurted out how much I wanted to be here and how I couldn't imagine being happier anywhere else. The pure joy exuded out of me. This is what I love, this is why I'm here. I hiked on after lunch and was about to get lost in my thoughts when a woman comes around the corner and yells "FINALLY, A WOMAN!" Totally taken aback I paused and fumbled out the words as she asked my name. This was Kinsley, easily the most enthusiastic woman I've ever met. Our five minute conversation was full and intense. She asked if I'd hiked before, did I have an online presence, what more could she do for hikers in the area, what was my favorite part? When she turned and left, I still sat there, slightly shocked by the whole encounter. I kept moving. We climbed up to Jack's peak, the highest we had been so far, so I took my time and really enjoyed the pine forest that had sprung up. I got to a cloudy cistern and filled up on water. It would be 20 miles before I'd get to another source and I could feel the ten pounds of water weighing me down as I hiked on. I ran into a friend who was setting up camp. He said there was a bunch of flat space if I wanted to join but I felt good still so I kept moving. The sun was beginning to dip, marking the end of another long day. I came around a corner to find the most perfect camp spot, perched specifically for catching the sunset, and called it quits for the day.
The sun vanished as I shoveled my dinner into my mouth and drifted off to sleep. Luckily the night wasn't as cold as the previous so it was easy to jump up and get moving early. About half an hour into my day, I tripped, ripping the webbing from my shoe. I couldn't stop thinking of the 75 miles I still had to go before I'd get to my new pair. I didn't take any breaks that morning until 15 miles in when we finally reached our next water source and I sat down to have lunch. When I ventured to fill up my bottles from the large cow trough, suddenly hundreds of giant wasps flew out from everywhere. I had never seen anything like it. A huge swarm of inch long wasps were guarding the water tank. To get anywhere close, without disturbing the insects, I had to invade the pack of already agitated cows. A huge Bull stood in the middle and was kicking up dust like he was about to charge me. All I could think of was the pack of cows from my last day in New Zealand.
I filled up two liters, not enough for the 18 miles I still had to go before more water, but I wasn't hanging around any longer. The trail curved around until we were in an open canyon. Massive rock formations flanked me on either side and I felt very calm. I spent that time taking as many pictures as I could. The canyon spilled me out onto the highway and the maps said 13 miles on the shoulder into town. I had already hiked about 20 miles but I wouldn't have enough water to camp that night so I turned and started walking. The asphalt was hard on my already aching joints and the sun beat down on the back of my calves. Four hours later and I was still on the highway, just outside of town. I was out of water and I could feel the heat blisters rising on the backs of my legs. I kept moving. I finally made it to town, exhausted and hungry, so when a man asked what I was looking for, all I could blurt out was "food." Mile 161
