So far we’d been making good progress to Silver City, almost 15 miles a day. The terrain changed quite drastically once we left Lordsburg. We now had trees (shade!) and an actual trail to follow most of the time. The one constant struggle was finding water.
The day after the Dead Possum Water crisis, we found ourselves staring at dry sources once again. We came across one cow tank half full of green sludge, but collectively decided that neither we nor our filters were up to the task of transforming the sludge into something drinkable.
One mile passed. Two. Five.
It was the hottest day on the trail so far, and as the miles slipped away, so did our water. Gotta stay hydrated. On our maps, hikers from the previous year had reported a small cache of water at an upcoming spot.
“I really, really hope there’s water there,” I told Britta. We now had a grand total of one liter left between us, plus whatever was left in each of our water bottles, and we approached the spot nervously. Sunlight reflected off what looked like plastic on the ground. “I think that might be water!” I said.
We took a few steps closer, and Britta let out a shriek. My own eyes widened in disbelief.
There was water. Gallons and gallons of it, lined up on the ground. But that wasn’t all. Sacks hung from a nearby tree, bulging to the brim with all manner of food. Apples, oranges, snacks, even DIY PB&J sandwiches. A cardboard sign dangled from the branch next to the food. It was addressed to CDT hikers, and contained the two single best words in the English language: Eat Anything. It was, as thru-hikers call it, trail magic.
Britta wrote such a profuse thank you note to leave that I told her it was over the top. And then I tasted one of the oranges.
We filled up two liters of water each, and after some delicious food we set out again with fresh energy. Whoever you are, Kinsley, I hope you know how very, very much hikers appreciate you. You’re amazing.
