Written by John Swart – From May 2014 –

I’m in Tehachapi, California, a small community about 2 1/2 hours north-east of Los Angles. Tehachapi is in the very cool, often windy, high desert at an elevation of about 3500 feet.

I hiked into Tehachapi through what one local claimed is the largest wind farm in the world, a veritable forest of very high towers topped with huge propellers, scattered over the hilly landscape. It is exceptionally windy currently, which added an extra degree of difficulty the last few days as gusts were estimated at up to 50 mph.

In the last few days, since leaving the community of Aqua Dulce, the trail has wound its way through the mountainous high desert that is on the outer edges of the Los Angeles metropolitan area. The elevation has ranged from around 2900 feet to over 6000 feet, providing for a variety of vegetation and temperature variants.

After a much needed “Zero Day” (no hike day) in Aqua Dulce the next stop was at a trail angel’s house called Casa De Luna, which can best be described as a bohemian adventure in the boonies.

The couple who call Casa De Luna home are the Andersons—easy-going, laid back folks who welcome hundreds of hikers each year. The Andersons serve up massive taco salads, pancake breakfasts, and much fun and mirth. We were accommodated in camping spots in a fairy tale-like Manzanita forest (red, twisty-barked, little trees) in the back of their property.

The following day involved a road walk of 21 miles to the next destination, due to a fire closure of the trail. There have been a few of those throughout the hike as California seems to burn on a regular basis.

I arrived with a few hiking friends on the edge of the Mojave Desert at another very quirky trail stop called Hiker Town. The owner of Hiker Town has created a little western village on his property with overnight guest quarters.

On the edge of the high desert and with little around it, Hiker Town had the feel of a western movie set. In fact, the owner was involved in the movie industry. Although Hiker Town was rather worn and tattered, it was nonetheless a welcome relief from the strong winds that were continually blowing.

The following morning we set out for a 23-mile jaunt along the California Aquaduct (big ditch with water) through stands of Joshua trees and scrub. The long-distance views to the lower elevations were impressive, and thankfully, the temperature was on the mild side.

The day ended with a very steep, blustery (blow-your-hair-off strength, to be exact) climb through a wind farm into the surrounding mountains that rim the desert. The small canyon we camped in provided some welcome relief from the blasting wind.

Yesteday, we ascended back up to over 6000 feet, then descended through the very large wind farm mentioned previously. We landed on the road that accesses Tehachapi, a very friendly little town.

From Tehachapi forward, the trail will cross the final stretch of the southern California zone and enter into the Sierra Mountains. The Sierras promise quite different scenery and possibly snow (brrrrr). I am a bit concerned about my cold-weather preparedness but will adjust as needed.

I have had some physical challenges in the form of blisters, sores, and leg/knee issues. So I’m doctoring the best I can and not pushing too hard on the trail. The frailties of this physical container are definitely revealed when put to a test of this nature.

I am also beset by doubt and fears about my capability to actually pull this thing off, which I guess is part of the process (at least with me). Tomorrow I’ll push on and see what the trail has in store for in the coming miles.

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A Shift in Consciousness

May 26, 2014

Hello from evaporating Lake Isabella in the very thirsty Mojave Desert. I am now getting clean and restocked in this little burg, 40 miles and a few thousand feet below the closest trail access at Walker Pass.

The tourist-driven economy here has been very adversely affected by the current drought. Water levels in the lake and in the Kern river are quite low, and so rafting hasn’t been possible this year.

I left the blustery high desert about five days ago, ascending to altitudes of 6000 feet through the now very familiar high desert chaparral. The pain in my leg was a very prominent concern, and other fears and doubts persisted as well. The fellow I’d been hiking with (all day long) very kindly shared his small pharmacy with me, giving me Vitamin I (ibuprofen), which helped the pain—at least temporarily.

A couple days out of town, however, something shifted. The pain began to subside, and a change took place in my consciousness.

We had ascended into a very pretty alpine-like region, and I began to feel more aware and present as we moved through the serenity of forest. Moving into mountains rimming the great Mojave desert yielded vast expansive views over the starkly beautiful landscape. Taken all together, it evoked moments of awe and an indescribable peace from being present to the moment.

While hiking, my mind has tended, over the last month, to travel a well-worn path formed from unfounded fears, doubt and depression. The mental roar can reach a feverish pitch out here due to the lack of normal worldly distractions and the addition of physical demands along with the constant uncertainty over what each day on the trail will bring.

So in recent days I have begun employing a very simple (but definitely not easy) technique of being present to what is right now. I watch my thoughts, simply noting them as “thinking,” and I repeat a zen phrase: “Just this.” I steep myself in my actual experience of the current moment.

A few days ago we were on a particularly hard climb, and I was huffing my way up, just wanting it to be over with (as has often been the case out here). Then I decided to see how slowly I could walk and to focus on staying present with each step as I took it. I also focused on deepening my breath.

I relaxed, let go of the striving, and the experience changed dramatically. I no longer yearned for the climb to end, and I started to enjoy each step. I switched from mouth breathing (gasping) to a deeper, more comfortable nose breathing, which seemed to aid the practice of coming back to the present.

We faced a very big climb later in the day to 7000 feet. Previously I would have been intimidated by the ascent ahead, but this time I couldn’t wait to apply my present-focused awareness to the climb. And the experience of the ascent was remarkable. I felt the earth beneath my feet, breathed in the beauty all around me, and my energy soared. I lost my need to be elsewhere, to reach the endpoint in order to rest.

And so there has been a transformation. The darkness that plagued me in previous weeks has lifted. I don’t know if tomorrow the darkness will return, but maybe it doesn’t matter. Because all I have is this present moment. All I have to do is take this step right now. And that is more than enough.

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Lessons Along the Way

May 29, 2014

Here I am in beautiful Kennedy Meadows in the Sequoia National Forest, ready to launch into the Sierras.

Hiked in at 9 pm last night after a delightful evening trek through the fading daylight. It was a 21-mile day with my first view of the snow-capped Sierras. The day included as well, a very refreshing plunge in the south fork of the Kern River (including some quick clothes washing) and a rattle snake encounter.

Left Walker Pass (Lake Isabella) three days ago after a wonderful spaghetti dinner send-off from folks doing trail magic. The ascent out of the pass in the cool evening light, with views over the Mojave Desert far below, was a feast for the senses.

The next day involved a 25-mile stretch that felt remarkably comfortable. The beautiful scenery and camaraderie of hikers I encountered along the way helped ease the fatigue. So, as in life (with everything being our teacher), the trail is providing very significant opportunities to grow and learn.

My current objective (and teaching) is to be present and aware, right here and now, and not focusing my efforts on the endpoint of Canada. A very simple concept but no easy undertaking. The rewards, however, are immense.

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“I have a penchant for immersion in other cultures and spiritual practices. I consider the forest to be my cathedral where I experience my most intimate communion with my personal divine.”

John Swart has recently spent four months in a yoga Ashram in Virginia, and has embarked on his next adventure which includes travels in Europe and Asia. He will be writing an accompanying blog throughout his travels.

Also while travelling, John plans to work on a book based on his experiences hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, which will greatly expand on his existing blog content.

In October of 2014, John completed the 2,650 mile Pacific Crest Trail. For him, a phenomenal journey that, “… confirms my growing awareness that the essence of human nature is kindness and generosity. I feel I have greatly deepened my own cultivation of these qualities as a consequence of the many examples I have experienced along the trail. My heart opens wider.”