This morning I (meg) dressed 7 blisters on my feet. I slipped my blistered feet into some dirty, but comfortable socks, and then placed them into my new Lone Peaks. These are a trail runners (all the rage), and a quite goofy. At the end of their first day they have served me well. No new blisters, and I am less foot sore than yesterday.
After Mt Laguna the landscape changes from our familiar mountains from which we came. After a few miles among the pines and lightly wooded forests the track finds you over looking an incredible sight of yellow desert mountain ranges. These austere beauties rise straight up from the flat barren lands below. They seem endless as you look out into them, huge and vast. The wind howled, and we rounded the range to breakfast on some burnt logs.
Another 10 km on and we arrived at a picnic ground, windy with picnic tables we found ourselves a sunny nook and ate some lunch. Rivita, tuna and cheese are quickly loosing their appeal. We filtered water from a horse trough, and chatted to a Spanish teacher from San Diego, who encouraged us not to do the sierras while there was snow. Not long after this picnic area there is a ledge. It has been reinforeced by concrete at points, and there are a great number of plaques dedicated to people and dogs who have died. There would be more than 20 stretches out across 50m all engraved with their own little momento to a lost loved one. At the end of there the Kwaaymii Point highway ends in a coulersack, the track crosses is and head out away from civilisation.
The track winds its way gently around the ranges, you never feel too put out, and in comparison to the AAWT we are eating up the kms. Often you can see where you’ve come from and what lays ahead.
Phoebe and I happened upon a snake, shiny black with yellow speed stripes. As we wandered in the howling wind Harriet told us about the Sultan Sea as we looked out to it in the far distance. The sea was collateral from the flooding of the Colorado River. From our vantage point it was nestled between some mountains and looked to me like an intriguing place with many old ghosts.
Tonight we a pitched roadside about 3 kms from a known tent site. A stream babbles close by and the wind sneaks it’s way into our tents with every gust. It’s our first arvo of free time and we are snug up reading and doing nothing.
We hung in the wind for a few hours until phoebe joined us in the one tent to cook a simple meal of dried beans and rice. We are, chatted and then bunkered down for the evening.