Part 1.

We had a silent morning in camp as I was busy dividing by zero inside my head.  But it was either Hail Mary up the Hill or torpedo the entire bike trip with my weakness.  We rolled for a mile or two then started climbing.  I was relentlessly positive inside my head:  keep going, take your time, it’s okay.  Just one last effort.  But I was wilting fast and I could feel it; it felt like I was right back where I left off yesterday:  sapped, empty.  Cracked.

I kept trying.  I rode as long as I could, which felt ridiculously short, then tossed my bike down like a spoiled brat to pant in the shade.  The process repeated as morning turned to noon and the temperature shot back up to the mid 90’s.  I was so possessed with the future (waiting at the top of the hill) and the past (at the river when I started to feel bad–why??) that I had a hard time seeing the present.  It took all of my focus to remind me:  right now you pushed the pedal over the top one time and you feel okay.  Right now, lying on the shoulder of the road, there are beautiful clouds in the sky.  I’m in a remote wilderness area.  Regardless of anything else, this moment is nice.  I tried to build a catalog of nice moments but they felt like specks in comparison to my worry and exhaustion.

I was resting when Kevin coasted down the hill and told me we were only 1/3 of the way to the top.  And since it was getting hotter, and I was growing weaker, we should try to find me a ride.  Then in an amazing feat he hooked my rear panniers to his front rack and rode with me for a while, carrying 80% of my load.  But I was still toast.

He flagged down a forest service truck for me, and she miraculously agreed to give me a ride.  I felt sad, humbled, grateful.  We chatted about Etna and I don’t know and she dropped me off at the helipad where I waited for my friends to summit.  I laid down in the shade in the middle of a trail and watched long strands of spider silk float from the tops of trees as hikers walked by and I couldn’t care.

When the party reassembled we bombed down the other side.  The wind felt like a blowdryer that grew hotter as we reached the bottom.  We stopped in Callahan where I bought my friends a beer at the bar as I stuck to electrolyte drinks with salt and vinegar chips.  We all sat on bar stools in our spandex and Kevin introduced himself to multiple people on Harleys and made friends.  Then it was time to go, eleven miles to Etna with el señor carrying my stuff.  Halfway there we had a paceline, and indignity of all indignities I very nearly got popped off the back by two guys fully loaded, me carrying nothing.

We checked into the Hiker’s Hut in Etna where Derek and Kevin wisely opted to sleep in the yard instead of the Hut proper while I was too exhausted to resist shacking up in a bunkbed with Jackie the crazy Pacific Crest Trail hiker.

Jackie deserves his own paragraph.  An online college teacher on summer break, he was taking two days of downtime from the PCT.  While on the trail he averages 30 miles a day, traveling light and fast without a stove.  After a bad experience mailing food ahead, he now relies on convenience stores for his rations, surviving on a diet of beef jerky, fritos and honey grahams.  When not bending ears with outpourings of incredible tales, he preferred to lie in bed eating frozen burritos and canned pasta while reading, chuckling to himself and farting.

I’d developed chronic hiccups due to over-exertion.  When I went to bed I had three half hour bouts where I tried everything:  counting heartbeats, holding breath, pursuit of zen.  My diaphragm felt knotted.  Once they finally stopped, I flipped over onto my stomach and they started again.  Help.

My amigos left bright and early to climb the next pass.  At 7:30 they said goodbye, and as soon as they were gone Jackie sat down in a comfy chair at the foot of my bed and began a soliloquy with his eyes closed, rocking his head as he spoke:  I’ve tried biking, but I’ve never been able to find a seat that didn’t completely destroy my ASS and my TESTICLES…

I tried to ignore him.  But he had his eyes closed and couldn’t see me ignoring him, so I turned over and tried to go back to sleep.  Hic.

I rolled out of the Hut at ten to meet Beth on Main Street.  I still had the hiccups and had grown nauseous.  It was 100 degrees out as I sat in the shade sipping Coke, talking to the locals who were impressed.  When she rolled up I couldn’t believe I was saved, rescued by my sweet girl.  I braced myself in the passenger seat and began to tell her my story.  How I tried and I failed and my friends helped me out.