From Tehachapi Pass, I walked through the “whoosh, whoosh, whoosh….,” the sound of windmill turbines for the next two days. I was very disturbed and disoriented as what turbines are designed to do so even my pack was the heaviest on this trip with an 8-day supply of food, I walked as fast as possible to get away from them. Once I’m away from these windmills, I was myself again. I started noticing unique and beautiful transition zone between the desert and the Sierra. I experienced the first afternoon thunderstorm on this trip. It was as if the Sierra is welcoming me into the mountains as the afternoon thunderstorms are typical there. I pitched my tent to hanker down and watched the nature’s fireworks of lightning as I took a lightning position and ate my first hot lunch on this trip. It is like coming back to home – the mix scent of conifer and sage brush, the sound of my steps over the granite sand, lupines, gophers and abundant water are all familiar to me and welcoming me back. Yet, I continued to see plants from the desert and its landscape. It was incredible to walk back and forth between the desert and the Sierra mountains until I hit Kennedy Meadows.
It was the morning after the thunderstorm, I stopped to eat breakfast and dry everything out in the sun. As I sat down to eat, I had a thought that I may be able to finish the desert section of 702 miles in a month, which would be an incredible accomplishment as an athlete. But I shrugged it off thinking it’s ridiculous. Then, a hummingbird buzzed and perched only a couple of feet away from me on a branch. She looked at me and winked. Then flew away. I’ve never seen a hummingbird that close before. I thought she came to tell me, “hey, small and mighty, you fly.” So I took off. I made the last two days as an opportunity to practice 15-hour silent walking meditation, covering 68 miles and reaching Kennedy Meadows on June 13th, exactly 31 days from May 14th when I left Campo, the California-Mexico border. The last few miles coming down to Manter Creek all the way to Kennedy Meadows was absolutely stunning, giving me the grand finale of this desert chapter of my journey in the beautiful evening light.
Appreciation: for the hummingbird, for giving me a permission to do what I’m capable of doing: 702 miles in 31 days (30 hiking days). For Old Yeller, for fresh banana and apricots. It was a true surprise and definitely a magic to taste fresh fruit! For trail angels who left water cache at the critical locations as the section between Tehachapi and Walker Pass is the driest section of the entire PCT. Otherwise we would have to carry gallons of water to make it for over 50 miles of no water or make miles of detours. I’m truly grateful for the generosity and effort of trail angels I don’t even know.
Best learning: skip the windmill section if I were to do this again. It really impacted my mood, psyche, sleep and wellbeing. Who cares!
Challenges: windmills!
Disappointment: seeing the Sierra so close and leaving, trusting that’s the best decision I can make with humility and respect for Mother Nature, my family and friends who care about my safety.
Equity: While I was at the Tehachapi post office for resupply, at one point, there were nine white thru-hikers filled up the post office, getting their packages, chatting and exchanging their stories and trail names, and doing their things. The locals who were also white and older were very nice, checking on them and asking how the trip is going for them. We all looked thru-hikers, meaning that we have backpacks and wear trail clothing and none of us look clean. I thought what if all these white folks were Black, Indigenous and People of Color? Will we be perceived as the thru-hikers or homeless? Will the locals be kind, welcoming and talk to us in the way they did for these white thru-hikers? Will someone call police? Will ……? I had so many questions and thoughts. I sometimes hear white folks asking why BIPOC don’t feel welcome to the outdoor space. Or there aren’t many BIPOC thru-hikers. In fact, I met only 9 BIPOC thru-hikers in the first 700 miles. It’s not just about outdoor space. There are places that we have to go and do things to take care of ourselves, and at these places we also experience microaggressions. If somebody calls the police, that is a macro aggression. When I was at the post office, a white woman came up to me and asked me about where I was from, start talking about her Chinese ex-boyfriend and made some comments about my food. All I wanted to do was packing my food without gaining a lot of attention from white folks. This is one of the reasons why I dislike stopping at towns, especially small towns. I can’t find my food anyways and I want to avoid microaggressions. I heard white thru-hikers looking forward to staying at a hotel, going grocery shopping, and eating at the restaurant along the way without thinking what consequences may come with it. I think that is white privilege. I’ve been leapfrogging with two white hikers. They look very dirty before they go into town. The fact that they can go into town looking like that is a white privilege. I write about this under equity because I think it is unfair for the amount of effort and thought that BIPOC have to put in to be accepted as a thru-hiker. It would be amazing to have BIPOC hiker sanctuaries across the PCT where we don’t need to go into town or have white ally who will be willing to go to towns with us so it’s less likely that somebody would call police. I see the benefit of both, avoiding or us going to towns. If we avoid, we don’t have to experience micro or macro aggressions but that keeps us invisible. If we go into town, we may risk ourselves; however, we expose ourselves to let white folks know that thru-hikers of color exist, and they’ll get used to it once they start seeing enough of us. I think it will be nice to have the combination of BIPOC hiker sanctuaries for folks who want to avoid going into towns and having white allies who understand the experience of BIPOC thru-hikers and are willing to go to the store and prepared to shield aggressions from other white folks.