Overnight I cowboy camped in what appeared to be a playground of some sort. Then I spent time at my favorite town place (the library) where I met an AT thru-hiker named Migrator who worked at Woods Hole! She was passing through on a road trip and remembered me when I came through there with Pusher.
Shortly after, an older gentleman pulled up in a wheelchair to introduce himself and show me a heavy binder of all his portfolio work.
He said, “You’re a very nice looking lady. You have a nice face to do a portrait on.”
Figuring he wanted to draw me, I all of a sudden became nervous because he complimented me really loudly in front of a group of people. “Awe thank you!” I said. “It was lovely to meet you.”
He picked up on the energy and said, “It was lovely to meet you, too,” then strolled away.
Lastly, I met a CT hiker who hiked it in ‘21 who was enthralled by my adventure.
“I’m scared of hiking through the desert,” she said.
A lot of people seemed to be, but I’ve come to understand the fear was a lot worse in one’s mind than it was the actual experience.
I grabbed myself a burger before I left. I tried my hardest not to move too much because I smelled atrocious. Still, it didn’t stop people from wanting to approach me. They smiled, curious of the adventure I was on. So far no one has heard of the Hayduke, not even the locals of Utah.
I went to the local food corp and met a guy who knew someone who hiked the Hayduke a month ago.
“A month ago?!” I said, surprised by how he handled the heat in September.
“Yeah, he stayed at the hostel I work at,” he said. “You should come stay there! It’s only $20 per bed.”
I haven’t heard of those prices since 2019. I thought about going but I didn’t want to. Instead I hung out with the hippies outside the store for about 5 minutes while one ate a sandwich and the other played guitar. After hearing them bullshit around about love and happiness, I decided to get going. My desire to be on trail was stronger than being comfy and clean.
I started late as I road walked all along Kane Creek Boulevard. Glad I did as the sun was just going over the canyons and no longer beating down on me. I stopped at a trailhead on a hill and conversed with a guy from Minnesota who had just finished biking around some of the trails. He asked if I needed water. Didn’t hurt to stay hydrated.
“Want it cold?” he asked.
I’ve basically been drinking boiling water the past few days. “Yes,” I said.
He even gave me a Gatorade as well to hydrate even further.
The paved road turned to gravel, meandering through red boulders and luscious green trees that gave insight water was near. The famous ‘Birthing Scene’ petroglyph was on the right hand side. I stopped at the squirter spring, absolutely stoked to see cold water falling down the side of a rock face. It took a few minutes to fill up as it was only a trickle. I washed my face and arms. Tomorrow hopefully I could wash my yoni and feet. My legs were still covered in dried mud after having fallen in the quicksand. Worked well as natural sunscreen, though.