The Sibling Consciences – The Trek

(*I will add photos when I have better signal and more phone battery to spare!)

We all remember Pinocchio, right? And his side kick Jiminy Cricket? The adorable top-hat wearing insect who acted as his conscience?

Well. I have 4 ½ of them. Of sorts.

Claytonius – the trickster
Foreverley – the suck it up buttercup
Corbs – the sweetheart
Wvilhelm – the light-hearted
Titus – the 4-legged derp

When I have HARD days on trail like I have the last few due to this oppressive heat, one of them usually whispers in my ear.

I often joke to my Mom on shit days that “I’ve changed my mind. I want to be a ballerina” or the extreme “I never want to walk again.” To which she calmly and without batting an eyelash replies: “Honey don’t be dramatic. Go eat a burger and you’ll be fine.”

Don’t you just HATE that Moms are always right? It’s hella annoying and also a very cozy thing.

But, back to the most hellish day I’ve had on trail yet.

The day prior by comparison was doable and I felt strong. I did a little dancing in the morning as the 6200 ft climb started at the South end of Saguaro National Park. I. Drank. So. Much. Water.

When I hit the first official camping area in the Park at Grass Shack I even took a siesta fiesta for the hottest part of the afternoon. I did a little reading. I ate my lunch.
I filled up my water bottles and carried on. Well. Dragged my ass up Mica Mountain to be more precise. I got there at sunset and she sure was a beaut.

Two years ago almost to the day when I was there last, I saw so many hikers on trail. There was even a large gathering around a fire ring at the ranger cabin at the the top.

This time around? Not a soul. No one. I didn’t see a single human or tent from Colossal Cave the day before to the top of Mica. It was eerie.

As I sat at a picnic table to make my dinner of grits/hemp hearts/bone broth/bacon/& fried jalapenos a man appeared. Literally appeared out of thin air.

His name was Cole and he was on a hunt for some firewood – he and some friends were camped at site 3. Immediately interested in the warm glow of a campfire on my grubby little face I asked if they would mind my company and if I could tent at their site. He said not at all and I happily grabbed my pack and followed him back to the site.

The 3 Indiana boys I soon discovered had known each other since grade school and all ended up moving to Phoenix over the years. They were good company and full of questions about thru hiking. I went to bed that evening a warm little Starfish smelling like campfire and a belly full of candy. They introduced me to Lemonhead rope gummy candy. Mind blown. They will be on my next resupply list when I hit a proper grocery store soon.

This brings us to the day. The day that all my sibling consciences took turns whispering in my ear.

And I will always be grateful.

The hottest day on this trail yet. Triple digits on the desert floor.

It started out beautifully, like all cool desert mornings do. I even bumped into a wild turkey on top of Mica & he and I were singing good mornings at each other for a bit. I sent my friend Buttsteak a pic of my melodious compadre and he texted back “Merriams Turkey. Awesome.” I replied “Weird, he told me his name was Thanksgiving ;)”

Descending down the other side of the mountain was gorgeous. My knee wasn’t too happy about it but I took my time and was cautious. Then it started to get warmer. I got to lower elevation and it went up by 24° as well. Each 1k feet you descend, add 4°. I’ll let you math that one.

I was under my umbrella, chugging water, and becoming more and more lightheaded. It was at this point the sibling consciences started to talk to me.

“You know, you could just drive to these places. You don’t HAVE to hike there.”
-Claytonius

“What the hell is wrong with you? Stop and drink whatever salty things you have in your food bag. Don’t be a moron.”
-Foreverley

“Stop and rest, it’s okay to take an hour and nap. Your body is working hard. Be good to it.”
-Corbs

“I triple-dog-dare you to stop in some shade and sleep. No balls.”
-Wvilhelm

“*whines* here – we can nap and share my blankie”
-Titus

At this point I decided they were all mostly right. And after a quick call to my Daddio who stated matter of factly “I remember when you were delirious like this in NM on the CDT. You’ve been in this predicament before. I’m not worried about you, but I am concerned” I collapsed in the next patch of shade I found and passed out immediately.

An hour later I groggily came to, dug into my food bag and got out a packet of miso soup mix I had acquired from a hiker box at Miss Joann’s and a chicken bouillon bone broth packet.

I shook them up with some water in my talenti jar and I’ll be damned if it wasn’t the most delicious thing I’ve ever had. Like ever.

I staggered down the trail being blown sideways by a random windstorm to a water cache box that I didn’t have high hopes about.

It was my lucky day. I filled up my water bottles, while still sitting there in a mental haze.

Eventually, I put my pack on and at a snail’s pace carried on. And on. And on. I forced my feet to carry me 8 more miles up and over another 1k foot climb and down to Molino Basin Campground at the foot of Mount Lemmon. I knocked on the door of the caretaker at 9:15pm and met Larry, who made the astute observation that it was, in fact, late. I told him that I concurred and asked where AZT hikers were allowed to camp. He led me to site 2, where I threw up my tent, forced myself to make and eat dinner and promptly PTFO.

Never stop exploring. Embrace the suck. I. Believe. In. YOU. kk ily <3

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