Day 10, Sunday, July 11. Pennsylvania Creek, TM 1598.5–(9.3 miles)

Good news and bad news? Bad news first.

It’s been 9 consecutive nights that I’ve slept through the night without having to get up to pee. I’m not completely ruling out the possibility that I’m just peeing in my sleep and the low humidity dries out the tent by morning. However, if this were the case, I’m sure Bunny would have at least put her hand in the puddle at some point and we’d be buying another new tent. 

If I make it a single night off trail without getting up to pee, it’s a big deal. 9 nights in a row! I’m either dead or severely dehydrated. I drank 3 liters of water when we got in camp last night and only peed once before bed. I thought for sure I’d be up at 3a humming a Phil Collins song—🎶 tonight’s the night, ooohhhh, we’re gonna make it right tonight, ooohhh 🎶. Instead it was 🎶 It never rains in California 🎶. Bunny’s ecstatic, I’m frightened of the coming apocalypse. 

On to the good news. Today was the most pleasurable poop experience of my life. I’m even including all the times porcelain has been in the picture, which wasn’t the case today. We slept in until 7:15. I didn’t even get up to pee until we had our coffee and oatmeal (but I digress). The oatmeal and coffee worked its magic. I was slightly rushed, but the temperature was perfect. We had a clear blue sky. The birds were singing. A bunny rabbit even frolicked by in the woods. The soil was nice and loose thanks to the prairie dogs. There were no mosquitoes. Other than not peeing for 9 nights, I had not a worry in the world. I’ll stop with details here other than to say this experience equaled the first 5 days on trail in volume alone. Life is good. 

Every dog has its day. Stated another way, we all have our off days. Today’s was Sassy’s. Yesterday she muscled through the Imodium withdrawals, but it took a huge toll on her energy reserves. The trees were much happier dealing with the withdrawals rather than the explosive artwork which painted the forest (and will remain until the next major rain storm). Today, she just didn’t have the oomph to climb (I can relate remembering my first 4 days on the trail this year). 

The first 3 miles out of camp, she was cruising. The next couple she did ok, but when we had a 2 mile climb in the full sun, she was done for. She tried to pretend she was fine, and none of us were going to argue with her. She kick boxes in the non-hiking season. I’ve seen her cat like reflexes kick Bear’s glasses off his face. I always keep a slice of bread on me just in case she decides to come after me. It’s her Kryptonite. As the last 3 days have shown, even deadlier to her than to Superperson (it’s the 2020s and I’m afraid of political flashback being a white male). 

We tried letting Sassy lead. We tried going slow. We tried chasing her uphill with a bagel. We tried dangling food in front of her. We tried soaking her with cold water. All to no avail. We settled on stopping a few miles short of our goal and letting her take a long nap. That’s when we discovered her Spanish heritage and her unspoken need for a siesta. We may have to make some adjustments to accommodate in the future. 

There was a moment of civic/patriotic pride today. As we were climbing towards the Nevada side of the Sierra, we noticed a pocket of smoke below The Nipple. Either the Nip just had sex and was smoking a cigarette to relax, or there was a small fire about a mile or two off trail. We had Carson City in our sights, so we had enough signal to check the the CA fire page and the PCTA page to determine if this was a known event. It wasn’t, so we called it in. It took us 3 tries until the CA fire department told us to just call 911. We gave our exact gps location and direction the smoke was from us. Within an hour, there were two flyovers. There are already a couple of bigger fires in the area, so they might let it go for a couple of days, but at least we did our part. 

A major milestone was passed on this otherwise short day of hiking. We passed 100 cumulative miles of trail today. It struck me at supper that we are actually in the land of Jon Muir and Ansel Adams. It is fucking beautiful here and we’re not even to the best parts yet. The final mile of trail today was through an old growth forest of incense cedars. These guys and gals (I’m not certain how to sex a cedar) are the biggest cedars I’ve ever seen. We picked the one that appeared to be the grandparent of all the others. I feel best when I’m in a forest, no matter what the makeup of the forest is. But I’m in complete awe of these old cedars. 

EFG