Ziggy and the Bear to Mission Creek
Miles | 210-230 (20)
What comes down must go up again. It’s eight o’clock in the morning, and I’m soggy with sweat, staring up at a long series of switchbacks that end on an exposed ridge somewhere above me. AtHome and Gentle Giant are already up there, resting on a log. Grinder is somewhere behind me, grinding out miles, like he always does. “I hate the desert,” he said, as I waddled past him half an hour ago. I was tempted to agree with him. The desert sucks, but in the most beautiful type of way.
AtHome, Gentle Giant, and I climb one sandy hill after another, until the trail finally spits us out next to Mission Creek, the only large, moving water source that we’ll encounter in the desert. We find a shady nook next to the creek, get half-naked, and play in the water. Tarzan eventually joins us, and I feel like I’m at a beach party, a beach party full of dudes in soggy boxer briefs.