Day 6: Begining the Decent into Civilization

I arose early, determined to get a head start on the day. It was going to be a hot one once I hit the more arid parts my hike.

I broke camp, had a cold breakfast of protein bars—I had no water to waste—and headed out. The day before a cowboy had entered the campground leading a small string of mules and horses, I followed him out of camp that morning. Briefly, I contemplated half-jokingly asking for a ride, but part of me felt that would have soiled the whole point of this trip. Later I would regret my pride.

While I hiked I shut off my brain and set to enjoying the morning sounds of the mountains. There's something so reassuring about the peaceful cacophony of nature—my soul knows I'm home.

After an hour or so I crossed paths with the first of many people I'd talk to that day. A lone hiker inquiring about how much further he had to go before the camp I just left, and general chatting about the quality of our respective hikes.

With this exception my morning was devoid of human interaction. I hike steadily, occasionally pausing to check my map. The concern about water was weighing over me and I was justly worried about my situation.

I hiked over some stunning granite formations, and paused to take pictures of huge trees growing out of the rocks, too determined to let a little thing like no soil deter them from their need to grow.

I hiked above a raging river. Despite the lack of trees, the trail over the rocks frequently took me far enough from the edge that I could only hear the rapids. Occasionally, I was so high above the water that I could see it, but couldn't hear it. This section of trail was powerful and drove me on. Soon, I hit the steepest decent of the day. The switchbacks were impressive. I was no longer walking over the top of solid granite, but I was dropping through trees. The side of the mountain I was walking down was more like a cliff than a mountain, but I hugged the wall and soldiered on.

Finally, there was a break in the trees, with a view of the river I had been hiking above.

As I  carefully and methodically made my way down these switchbacks, I noticed a pair of hikers making their way up. They moved as deliberately as I did, working to conserve their energy. They could see the ascent looming before them and didn't want to exhaust themselves early on. What they couldn't see was the second half of the ascent that continued on the next side of the mountain. Judging from the campsites on the map, they had at least two, possibly three, more hours to go. Though, once they got over this, it was a relatively flat run.

Because I was moving downhill I covered more distance than they, and met them closer to the bottom of the mountain. We stopped to chat. That's when I learned they were a grandfather and son, out for a nice backpacking trip. I adjusted my estimate to a solid three hour minimum to camp. We chatted, and then the older man said that he'd let me get on my way. I laughed and reassured him, "Oh, no, you're just fine. I'm using this as an excuse to rest." We chatted and rested a bit more before parting ways.

I continued down, finally rounding a corner that set me right next to a bridge to cross over the river I had been following all day. I took off my pack, scrambled atop a boulder, and set about enjoying my lunch. At just that moment a large group of youth backpackers (rough estimate places their numbers around 20-30) rounded a bend and similarly decided to stop for lunch. Politely, they passed me before dropping their packs. Though, they were only about five feet away, so it's not like I had a great deal of solitude. I chatted with them for a few minutes before deciding that I should be on my way.

I shouldered my pack and headed out.

The next few hours would bring mostly solitude, sometimes unnervingly so.