May 5

From a general store phonebooth Crystal and I spoke. Me, shuddering with confusion that she soon set at ease. She insisted that I feel it out, walk the next seventy miles to Warner Springs and then decide whether or not to leave the trail. Already I feel better, enjoying the trail more. Indeed, she was right, I would soon feel claustrophobic in Menomonie or the lost opportunity of the trail would eat away at me. Yes, I may regret the decision and regret is parasitic. Most importantly, she said that my walking would bring us both strength. This is not just my adventure.
Spent most of the day in stocking cap, crossing a 6000' ridge. Gloriously difficult, brutalized by straight line winds, each gust woven with the spray of the ocean, emanating from the coast (less than 60 miles from here). Walked along a ridge with vast stands of jeffrey pine and black oak to the west, creosote bush and manzanita to the east. Forest on the high western side, desert lay down below in the east; two life zones. I watched the heavy coastal clouds roll up the hills and fall back down in a curve like a rain-shadow, keeping the forest perpetually saturated and the desert perpetually dry. It felt good to be traversing this knife-edge between such different worlds, the trail weaving like a thread through two tapestries.
Tonight, I am not so sure. The wind hasnt given up and tarp is like a thin napkin, whipping and almost breaking open. I have six rocks holding down each stake. Rain is coming. This could be a bad night. Potentially sleepless.