So I'm in Portland, and looking forward to hiking Washington, but I've decided to give up on blogging until after reading Canada. Sorry to those who may have been following along, but I'll eventually get you filled in.
posted from Bloggeroid
Friday, August 29, 2014
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Kennedy Meadows to Bishop (June 26 - July 4th)
Yeah so I wrote a really long post about this section, published it last night, but the post failed. For some reason it didn't even save as a draft. So I apologize but this probably won't be as good the second time around. Also, this blog business is becoming more of a chore than a hobby, so from here on out I'll just be doing highlights and photos. And as always, like 98% of my Instagram photos, no edits here.
I picked up my package from the general store, bought a bearvault (aka Chairvault), threw the new eats in and we hit the trail. The next few days were kind of a blur, as I had to focus on my gait constantly as I walked and my legs were still hurting a decent amount. Plus, it was tough to be present on trail after a week of leisure spent with Erin, despite the drastic improvement in scenery. So here's the short version:
Woke up on the 27th covered in frost, leap-frogged with Lady Luck and Snake Charmer (together, Lady Charmer) all day, camped with Herro and a kid named Howl who just graduated from high school in Sausalito, the town just on the north side of the Golden Gate Bridge. One of my college roommates grew up on a houseboat there, and Howl knows one of his little brothers.
Per the physical therapist's instructions, I had to spend nearly all my free time - breaks, before bed, first thing in the morning - stretching and rolling out my legs. They'd still stay hurting after about 16 miles, but they felt noticeably better. I bought a length of PVC to roll my kegs with, but forgot it in Erin's car, so I initially used a Snapple bottle, which I had packed out in order to have some Jameson on my birthday. Eventually I used my bear canister, which was a huge improvement. My birthday was a good day, hiked with tunes for a majority of it and ate all my best food.
On the 30th, we stashed our packs and set out to summit Mt. Whitney - at 14,505 ft, it's the highest point in America, Alaska excluded (I have issues with the terms 'lower 48' and Continental US, as neither really describe what they signify). Whitney is actually off the PCT: 8.5 miles to the summit, then the return. We got a later start than we had hoped, but were flying up the trail without our packs (this is called slackpacking). About half way up we noticed some dark clouds massing above us. Not long after, we ran into Lady Charmer and Rogue, who were heading back down.
"Don't y'all see the clouds?" asked Rogue. "Them be thunderclouds!" Apparently there was a ranger up ahead advising people to steer clear of the summit. We never saw him, but we did run into Leeandrea and a whole mess of John Muir Trail hikers, all of whom told us it was snowing up at the summit. We reached the junction for Whitney Portal, 1.9 miles from summit, where the JMT continues down into Lone Pine, when it stated drizzling. There was a sign that read something like: "EXTREME LIGHTNING DANGER. LEAVE SUMMIT IF: DARK CLOUDS, RAIN, HAIL, THUNDER, LIGHTNING". It was at this point that we dropped the food, water and trekking poles we had with us and started jogging/scrambling up the mountain. 439 vertical feet and less than half a mile from the top, we heard a massive blast of thunder. We stopped, hoping it was a fluke. Another boom. We started walking back down. Then it really opened up - it stated snowing on us and thunder claps exploded every few seconds, so we hustled back down.
It was certainly disappointing to turn back before the summit, but I don't like toying with lightning, especially atop a pile of granite taller than anything in the country.
That night Don got fairly sick - couldn't keep food down. We were only two days out of Bishop but Forrester Pass, the highest point on the PCT (13,400 ft) stood in our path. We move pretty slowly, but reached the ascent to the pass the next day around 230, at which point we found Rogue, Leeandrea, and thru hiker Dune waiting for thunderclouds to pass before climbing up and over. We napped, and by 430 it had mostly cleared up, so we continued on. The top of the pass marks the beginning of Kings Canyon, which is absolutely gorgeous.
We camped with Howl that night and set out early the next morning for Kearsage Pass, where we'd hitch to Independence then bus to Bishop. We took the Bullfrog Lake trail to the pass and made it down to the Onion Valley trailhead around 330. It was rough for Don, as he had hardly eaten for fear of more stomach trouble. A lady in the parking lot gave us a cantaloupe and we caught a ride into Independence with trail angel Steve, whose wife is a 60 year old triple crowner named Steady on her second PCT thru hike.
We got into town to find that the buses don't run on Wednesdays, so we stayed in the hiker bunkroom at the courthouse motel (the proprietor called it "the Annex") with Leeandrea, Howl and Herro. The next morning we caught the first bus to Bishop, met up with thru hiker and fellow Class of 14 graduate Hans at the famous Schat's Bakkery. We stayed at Hostel California, a labyrinthine old house with a million rooms, guitars, a great VHS selection, ping pong table and the most comfortable mattresses ever.
It was a slight bummer to leave on the Fourth, especially seeing as the hostel was throwing a big party and their hot tub was finally going to be fixed, but we headed back to trail; six of us packed into Leeandrea's friend's five seater SUV, along with five packs and a very spoiled Husky.
I picked up my package from the general store, bought a bearvault (aka Chairvault), threw the new eats in and we hit the trail. The next few days were kind of a blur, as I had to focus on my gait constantly as I walked and my legs were still hurting a decent amount. Plus, it was tough to be present on trail after a week of leisure spent with Erin, despite the drastic improvement in scenery. So here's the short version:
Woke up on the 27th covered in frost, leap-frogged with Lady Luck and Snake Charmer (together, Lady Charmer) all day, camped with Herro and a kid named Howl who just graduated from high school in Sausalito, the town just on the north side of the Golden Gate Bridge. One of my college roommates grew up on a houseboat there, and Howl knows one of his little brothers.
Per the physical therapist's instructions, I had to spend nearly all my free time - breaks, before bed, first thing in the morning - stretching and rolling out my legs. They'd still stay hurting after about 16 miles, but they felt noticeably better. I bought a length of PVC to roll my kegs with, but forgot it in Erin's car, so I initially used a Snapple bottle, which I had packed out in order to have some Jameson on my birthday. Eventually I used my bear canister, which was a huge improvement. My birthday was a good day, hiked with tunes for a majority of it and ate all my best food.
On the 30th, we stashed our packs and set out to summit Mt. Whitney - at 14,505 ft, it's the highest point in America, Alaska excluded (I have issues with the terms 'lower 48' and Continental US, as neither really describe what they signify). Whitney is actually off the PCT: 8.5 miles to the summit, then the return. We got a later start than we had hoped, but were flying up the trail without our packs (this is called slackpacking). About half way up we noticed some dark clouds massing above us. Not long after, we ran into Lady Charmer and Rogue, who were heading back down.
"Don't y'all see the clouds?" asked Rogue. "Them be thunderclouds!" Apparently there was a ranger up ahead advising people to steer clear of the summit. We never saw him, but we did run into Leeandrea and a whole mess of John Muir Trail hikers, all of whom told us it was snowing up at the summit. We reached the junction for Whitney Portal, 1.9 miles from summit, where the JMT continues down into Lone Pine, when it stated drizzling. There was a sign that read something like: "EXTREME LIGHTNING DANGER. LEAVE SUMMIT IF: DARK CLOUDS, RAIN, HAIL, THUNDER, LIGHTNING". It was at this point that we dropped the food, water and trekking poles we had with us and started jogging/scrambling up the mountain. 439 vertical feet and less than half a mile from the top, we heard a massive blast of thunder. We stopped, hoping it was a fluke. Another boom. We started walking back down. Then it really opened up - it stated snowing on us and thunder claps exploded every few seconds, so we hustled back down.
It was certainly disappointing to turn back before the summit, but I don't like toying with lightning, especially atop a pile of granite taller than anything in the country.
That night Don got fairly sick - couldn't keep food down. We were only two days out of Bishop but Forrester Pass, the highest point on the PCT (13,400 ft) stood in our path. We move pretty slowly, but reached the ascent to the pass the next day around 230, at which point we found Rogue, Leeandrea, and thru hiker Dune waiting for thunderclouds to pass before climbing up and over. We napped, and by 430 it had mostly cleared up, so we continued on. The top of the pass marks the beginning of Kings Canyon, which is absolutely gorgeous.
We camped with Howl that night and set out early the next morning for Kearsage Pass, where we'd hitch to Independence then bus to Bishop. We took the Bullfrog Lake trail to the pass and made it down to the Onion Valley trailhead around 330. It was rough for Don, as he had hardly eaten for fear of more stomach trouble. A lady in the parking lot gave us a cantaloupe and we caught a ride into Independence with trail angel Steve, whose wife is a 60 year old triple crowner named Steady on her second PCT thru hike.
We got into town to find that the buses don't run on Wednesdays, so we stayed in the hiker bunkroom at the courthouse motel (the proprietor called it "the Annex") with Leeandrea, Howl and Herro. The next morning we caught the first bus to Bishop, met up with thru hiker and fellow Class of 14 graduate Hans at the famous Schat's Bakkery. We stayed at Hostel California, a labyrinthine old house with a million rooms, guitars, a great VHS selection, ping pong table and the most comfortable mattresses ever.
It was a slight bummer to leave on the Fourth, especially seeing as the hostel was throwing a big party and their hot tub was finally going to be fixed, but we headed back to trail; six of us packed into Leeandrea's friend's five seater SUV, along with five packs and a very spoiled Husky.
posted from Bloggeroid
Monday, July 28, 2014
Well
For some reason my phone just deleted the longest blog post I've written yet. So I probably won't have anything up again for a week or so because I'm extremely angry
posted from Bloggeroid
Saturday, July 12, 2014
The Aqueduct - ...Los Angeles? (Roughly 530-618)
We woke up covered in ants. They were absolutely everywhere, swarming all over. Good thing we were using our bivy sacks, cause full on cowboy camping would have made for an unpleasant alarm. We had accidentally set our footprint down on an anthill, and the tenants weren't too pleased. We made a hasty escape and are breakfast about half a mile down the trail: that's when I noticed all the whirring white blades, a cross between Boeing wings and ceiling fans. I, with the proclivity for nerding out over all things related to sustainability, was pretty pumped to hike through a wind farm. I snapped a photo of Andrew with a windmill in the background and it was decided - he would henceforth be known as Don Creosote (if you want the full explanation you'll have to track him down yourself)
Also, I've just come up with an epithet for him: the Man of La Muncha. We had been holding out for other hikers to give us trail names, but at this point, having hardly hiked with anyone else, we figured no one was in a better position to name us. Within a day or so Don had given me a trail name too. Such is the origin of Don Creosote and the Bard.
We put in a hard morning of hiking to get to Tylerhorse Canyon, fill up on water and nap away the heat. We ran into Slowmo, Honeybuzz and Emily there, and just as we were leaving we met Ponyboy. The latter three were going to camp there, but we hoped to go another 10 miles or so.
As one might expect when hiking up above massive power-farming windmills, we were met by some serious wind climbing up into the mountains. Just after sunset we hit a water cache around mile 549, stocked with chairs under a big tree. Slowmo was there setting up for the night: "I'm hoping the tree and the stacks of water jugs will give me a little shelter from the wind." We wished him luck and set off with the intention of logging at least five more, but only a half mile away, it was as if the fury of Aeolus was unleashed on us. Don and I were a little nervous about the massive, groaning trees that stared down at us from foreboding angles, and sand was being whipped up into our faces at painful speeds. We threw our bags down right beside the trail in a spot tucked between some creosote bushes and battened down the hatches. It was a long night.
The next day we hiked through more windmills and a pretty stark burn area. That afternoon we hitched into Tehachapi to resupply, do laundry and, of course, get pizza and beer. Tehachapi is an interesting little town with locomotive renown - it is home to "the loop," a true feat of engineering that enables trains to gain climbing momentum. We drove through the main stretch of town and found a chili cookoff and auto show: "This is the most traffic I've ever seen here," said the woman who'd picked us up.
We scarfed down a pizza and headed to the laundromat, where I ran into a girl I knew from a class I took freshman year at LMU. "My fiancé got a job over in Mojave, so this is my new home," she said. "How's the hike? We talked about doing it this year but it didn't work out." She gave 'Sote and I detergent and said to let her know if we needed anything while in town. After stocking up on food we tried calling a bunch of trail angels for a ride back to the trail, but no dice. We ended up having to stay in town for the night and settle for a ride in the morning.
Camp Tortoise is a hiker crash pad in the backyard of, you guessed it, Trail Angel Tortoise's house. We got there around 8:30 and immediately Tortoise got a fire going. Also staying there were First Lady and Mr. President (Don went to middle school with First Lady - Zach - and his little brother in Huntington. Day full of small world moments), Medicine Man, Love Monkey, Rock Ocean and the Dude. Lots of great stories were told, but I'm running out of WiFi time...
The next morning Rock Ocean and The Dude shuttled us back to the trail. My knees were really talking to me at this point so I spent a lot of time with headphones in. The section was really beautiful. That evening we hiked into Golden Oaks Spring - it was barely a trickle, diverted by a sliced half of a PBR can. It was taking so long to fill up, let alone filter, that we decided to call it a short day and have a nice leisurely camp set up and dinner. Not long after we got set up, three hikers came down the trail - Adventure Time, Leeandrea and our old friend The Walrus. We were chatting for a bit when the First Family strolled in. Then the bear showed up.
Just a little guy, just large enough to be on his own and not with an angry mama close behind. He went right up to the spring and drank from the PBR can, then just hung out looking at us for a while. Sadly it was already pretty dark, but you can kind of see it in the picture I took:
So we stashed our food and went to sleep, wondering whether we'd be seeing him again, trying to Yogi our rations off into the night. No sign of him, though he may have snooped around while we were out. The next day I finished listening to Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods, which I'd been using to distract me from my knee pain. I'll spare you the review.
That afternoon we passed mile 600 and I had a reality check - I could never make it to Manning Park if my legs were going to feel this way the entire hike. I needed time off to rest and get checked out by a doctor, as it had gotten to the point where I was sleeping in ten minute increments before having to readjust into a position that hurt less. We rolled into Golden Oaks Spring that evening to find the Walrus and Adventure Time. Turned out Walrus was going to be picked up and brought into Lake Isabella the next night by his girlfriend, and they'd be happy to give us a lift. It was nice having a few hours to while away at camp before sleeping, which we spent getting to know fellow thrus Herro and Leeandrea - a former lax bro like myself and a Pepperdine grad, respectively.
We hiked down to a road crossing 14 miles away, where Walrus would presumably pick us up that night. He was spending the day at Willow Springs, where there was promise of shade and water. We didn't want to risk missing our ride so Don decided he'd slackpack (I.e. leave his stuff with me) out to meet Walrus and let him know where I had plopped down. Before he could take off though, Leeandrea came down the trail, informing us that she too was bumming a ride with Walrus - she had opted to trade her 30 degree bag for a 0 degree, but had shipped the former back before the latter arrived; so, yes, she'd been camping bagless the past few nights (no thanks!). She decided she wanted to slackpack ahead as well, so I held down the fort and watched some crazy clouds form and take on sunset hues as I waited (mi618).
We all piled into the rental car around 9pm and booked rooms at the Lake Isabella motel - certainly nothing special, wouldn't recommend it. I called my girlfriend back in LA, who was kind enough to agree to drive out and rescue me the next day. Don and I ate a massive and delicious breakfast at Nelda's in the morning as I worked through scenarios in my head, hoping beyond hope that I wouldn't have to quit the trail. Erin arrived in the early afternoon, we dropped Creosote off at the KOA campground and shot off toward LA (with an obligatory stop at In n Out in Bakersfield for two grilled cheeses, animal style fries and a strawberry shake for me). I got in to see an orthopedic surgeon within a day or so, who confirmed what I figured was the issue: tendonitis in my IT bands. He prescribed an anti inflammatory and 30 sessions of PT. Of course, I only did one session, in which I got myself a nice stretching routine.
LA was a wonderful break. I got to spend a bunch of time with my favorite person, read a few books, catch up on Game of Thrones (that finale!), attend a lovely summer solstice party and eat lots and lots of delicious non-trail food. I definitely experienced some sensory overload though - LA is real hectic even when you haven't been living on the PCT. I felt a bit out of it the whole time, itching for the peace of the trail.
After a week of being spoiled and rolling my legs out, it was time to get back to it. Despite my constant longing to escape the city, I felt a little hesitant to leave Erin again, as well as the comforts of funemployed summer living. Thankfully, Erin, ever the trooper, would be dropping me off at Kennedy Meadows: (mi702) the gateway to the Sierras. Most PCTers claim the Sierras as their favorite section, and I was glad to bypass the last 80 miles of desert for the time being. I figure I might go back and log the skipped miles after/if I reach Manning Park... But that's a decision for much later on.
Real food!
Physical therapist: "Man, you are locked up! How old are you?"
"21."
"This is not the flexibility of a 21 year old... Maybe the flexibility of a guy who just walked 600 miles, though"
"Well... I turn 22 on Sunday, in my defense."
-The Bard
Also, I've just come up with an epithet for him: the Man of La Muncha. We had been holding out for other hikers to give us trail names, but at this point, having hardly hiked with anyone else, we figured no one was in a better position to name us. Within a day or so Don had given me a trail name too. Such is the origin of Don Creosote and the Bard.
We put in a hard morning of hiking to get to Tylerhorse Canyon, fill up on water and nap away the heat. We ran into Slowmo, Honeybuzz and Emily there, and just as we were leaving we met Ponyboy. The latter three were going to camp there, but we hoped to go another 10 miles or so.
As one might expect when hiking up above massive power-farming windmills, we were met by some serious wind climbing up into the mountains. Just after sunset we hit a water cache around mile 549, stocked with chairs under a big tree. Slowmo was there setting up for the night: "I'm hoping the tree and the stacks of water jugs will give me a little shelter from the wind." We wished him luck and set off with the intention of logging at least five more, but only a half mile away, it was as if the fury of Aeolus was unleashed on us. Don and I were a little nervous about the massive, groaning trees that stared down at us from foreboding angles, and sand was being whipped up into our faces at painful speeds. We threw our bags down right beside the trail in a spot tucked between some creosote bushes and battened down the hatches. It was a long night.
The next day we hiked through more windmills and a pretty stark burn area. That afternoon we hitched into Tehachapi to resupply, do laundry and, of course, get pizza and beer. Tehachapi is an interesting little town with locomotive renown - it is home to "the loop," a true feat of engineering that enables trains to gain climbing momentum. We drove through the main stretch of town and found a chili cookoff and auto show: "This is the most traffic I've ever seen here," said the woman who'd picked us up.
We scarfed down a pizza and headed to the laundromat, where I ran into a girl I knew from a class I took freshman year at LMU. "My fiancé got a job over in Mojave, so this is my new home," she said. "How's the hike? We talked about doing it this year but it didn't work out." She gave 'Sote and I detergent and said to let her know if we needed anything while in town. After stocking up on food we tried calling a bunch of trail angels for a ride back to the trail, but no dice. We ended up having to stay in town for the night and settle for a ride in the morning.
Camp Tortoise is a hiker crash pad in the backyard of, you guessed it, Trail Angel Tortoise's house. We got there around 8:30 and immediately Tortoise got a fire going. Also staying there were First Lady and Mr. President (Don went to middle school with First Lady - Zach - and his little brother in Huntington. Day full of small world moments), Medicine Man, Love Monkey, Rock Ocean and the Dude. Lots of great stories were told, but I'm running out of WiFi time...
The next morning Rock Ocean and The Dude shuttled us back to the trail. My knees were really talking to me at this point so I spent a lot of time with headphones in. The section was really beautiful. That evening we hiked into Golden Oaks Spring - it was barely a trickle, diverted by a sliced half of a PBR can. It was taking so long to fill up, let alone filter, that we decided to call it a short day and have a nice leisurely camp set up and dinner. Not long after we got set up, three hikers came down the trail - Adventure Time, Leeandrea and our old friend The Walrus. We were chatting for a bit when the First Family strolled in. Then the bear showed up.
Just a little guy, just large enough to be on his own and not with an angry mama close behind. He went right up to the spring and drank from the PBR can, then just hung out looking at us for a while. Sadly it was already pretty dark, but you can kind of see it in the picture I took:
So we stashed our food and went to sleep, wondering whether we'd be seeing him again, trying to Yogi our rations off into the night. No sign of him, though he may have snooped around while we were out. The next day I finished listening to Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods, which I'd been using to distract me from my knee pain. I'll spare you the review.
That afternoon we passed mile 600 and I had a reality check - I could never make it to Manning Park if my legs were going to feel this way the entire hike. I needed time off to rest and get checked out by a doctor, as it had gotten to the point where I was sleeping in ten minute increments before having to readjust into a position that hurt less. We rolled into Golden Oaks Spring that evening to find the Walrus and Adventure Time. Turned out Walrus was going to be picked up and brought into Lake Isabella the next night by his girlfriend, and they'd be happy to give us a lift. It was nice having a few hours to while away at camp before sleeping, which we spent getting to know fellow thrus Herro and Leeandrea - a former lax bro like myself and a Pepperdine grad, respectively.
We hiked down to a road crossing 14 miles away, where Walrus would presumably pick us up that night. He was spending the day at Willow Springs, where there was promise of shade and water. We didn't want to risk missing our ride so Don decided he'd slackpack (I.e. leave his stuff with me) out to meet Walrus and let him know where I had plopped down. Before he could take off though, Leeandrea came down the trail, informing us that she too was bumming a ride with Walrus - she had opted to trade her 30 degree bag for a 0 degree, but had shipped the former back before the latter arrived; so, yes, she'd been camping bagless the past few nights (no thanks!). She decided she wanted to slackpack ahead as well, so I held down the fort and watched some crazy clouds form and take on sunset hues as I waited (mi618).
We all piled into the rental car around 9pm and booked rooms at the Lake Isabella motel - certainly nothing special, wouldn't recommend it. I called my girlfriend back in LA, who was kind enough to agree to drive out and rescue me the next day. Don and I ate a massive and delicious breakfast at Nelda's in the morning as I worked through scenarios in my head, hoping beyond hope that I wouldn't have to quit the trail. Erin arrived in the early afternoon, we dropped Creosote off at the KOA campground and shot off toward LA (with an obligatory stop at In n Out in Bakersfield for two grilled cheeses, animal style fries and a strawberry shake for me). I got in to see an orthopedic surgeon within a day or so, who confirmed what I figured was the issue: tendonitis in my IT bands. He prescribed an anti inflammatory and 30 sessions of PT. Of course, I only did one session, in which I got myself a nice stretching routine.
LA was a wonderful break. I got to spend a bunch of time with my favorite person, read a few books, catch up on Game of Thrones (that finale!), attend a lovely summer solstice party and eat lots and lots of delicious non-trail food. I definitely experienced some sensory overload though - LA is real hectic even when you haven't been living on the PCT. I felt a bit out of it the whole time, itching for the peace of the trail.
After a week of being spoiled and rolling my legs out, it was time to get back to it. Despite my constant longing to escape the city, I felt a little hesitant to leave Erin again, as well as the comforts of funemployed summer living. Thankfully, Erin, ever the trooper, would be dropping me off at Kennedy Meadows: (mi702) the gateway to the Sierras. Most PCTers claim the Sierras as their favorite section, and I was glad to bypass the last 80 miles of desert for the time being. I figure I might go back and log the skipped miles after/if I reach Manning Park... But that's a decision for much later on.
Real food!
Physical therapist: "Man, you are locked up! How old are you?"
"21."
"This is not the flexibility of a 21 year old... Maybe the flexibility of a guy who just walked 600 miles, though"
"Well... I turn 22 on Sunday, in my defense."
-The Bard
posted from Bloggeroid
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Wrightwood - Casa de Luna (366-478)
(As always, posted from my phone w/ no edits) I was pretty tired when I wrote my last post, so I didn't really pay the climb up to Guffy proper respect - it was hellish. I felt like an idol of Mercerism in a Philip K. Dick novel, dodging poodle dog bush instead of being pelted by stones. By the time we got to the campground and started what had been described to us as an "easy 5" to Inspiration Point (I've now learned not to listen to what anyone says about distance or difficulty - nothing is "all downhill," 10 miles often means 15 and vice versa), my knees were simply not cooperating, and neither was my headlamp. Though it was cool to hike under the Mtn. High ski lifts.
Anyway - we caught a lift back to the trail and ran into our buddy the Grateful Red (a kid our age who had just graduated from CSULB - the name comes from his long red beard, tie-dye headband and general jam-bandy appearance) in the Vincent's Gap trailhead parking lot. We started the ascension of Baden-Powell together, but I was feeling like absolute garbage and the four miles to the summit climb something like 4000 feet, so I fell behind. At the summit, however, we hung out with him for a while as we snacked and rested. He puts in 30 mile days with ease, and we found out he had been taking it easy recently because he was meeting his dad at Kennedy Meadows on June 20th and didn't want to be sitting there waiting for a week. His dad was going to section hike the Sierras with him, but we were much more fascinated with the event he had previously been training for - the Angeles 100. This is a one-hundred mile, roughly 28 hour trail-running race. That's right, 100 miles, running up and down the mountains that had just kicked my and Andrew's butts, with daypacks for carrying water and such. Oh, and he's over fifty. Pretty impressive family.
We hiked to the edge of an endangered species closure - a roughly three mile area of forest set aside for the protection of the Mountain Yellow-legged Frog - and, as it would seem most of the Class of 2014 has done, elected to hike the "old" Official PCT Alternate, which took us on a short road walk to the Cooper Canyon Trail, which intersects the PCT after just a few miles. We ran into a few ladies from Minnesota hiking the six mile Cooper Canyon trail: "Have you read Wild? That's why we're here!" We smiled and hiked on. The first of many, I'm sure. I filled up on water in a stream near the Cooper Canyon Trail Camp, which had a signboard with a notice about rattlesnakes in the area. Well, no more than thirty feet down the trail, I turned a switchback and, "Whoa!" Biggest rattler I've ever seen, maybe as thick as my forearm and very darkly colored. This was the first to really rattle at us, more of a buzzing really, and man I was pretty much reduced to pre-language, so Andrew didn't know there was a giant snake poised to defend its territory and continued right on up to me. He was about as surprised as I had been, and we made a hasty retreat. I really wanted to go back for a picture, but she was pretty feisty, so we kept on walking. Passed mile 400 that day and went about 12 more miles, set up camp in a little saddle that overlooked a sea of city lights - Lancaster, I figured. Andrew's dad wanted to meet us in Agua Dulce, but I figured if we were to take a zero anyway, we might as well just pop down into LA for the day. My girlfriend was getting her wisdom teeth out the next morning, so I thought it'd be fun to surprise her and show up while she recovered. Being so near a city, we had some phone service, so I asked a friend back in LA if he'd come get us from Hiker Heaven, the Saufleys' home, in Agua Dulce Saturday night. He said he was willing, so it was settled.
We hiked down to a fire station the next morning for water and shade, where we met Honeybuzz, Class of 2011, and his girlfriend, Emily. They're about our age, and we quickly found out that Emily not only attended LMU her freshman year, but lived in my dorm building. Small world! The next ten miles from the fire station have a warning in Half-Mile's trailnotes - poodle dog minefield, essentially. Multiple hikers recommended taking the road instead of the trail, "unless you like poodle dog up to your head and on blow-downs" or something to that effect. We heeded the advice, as did Honeybuzz and Emily. Yeah, yeah, spare me the purist lecture, we're still walking to Canada aren't we? Besides, it was no cakewalk - all uphill on asphalt, no shade. Andrew and I played around with the idea of putting in a 27 mile day, provided my friend could pick us up that night from Acton instead of waiting another full day til we got to Agua Dulce. We didn't have service, but thought we might get some at the North Fork Ranger Station. There's an abundance of poodle dog all the way til the last mile before the station, where it yields instead to poison oak. Lovely. Just before we reached that point, though, as the sun was starting to get low in the sky, Andrew and I were cruising downhill, talking loudly about Game of Thrones. "So, do you think he'll have Robin killed, or use him as a pawn? I think that... HOLY SHIT!" Without so much as a warning rattle, I was leaping away from a striking rattler. Pita complemented my evasive maneuvers, though I'm sure I looked like a flailing mess, and he told me the snake got pretty close to my hiking pole but not terribly close to biting me. I was wide awake for the last few miles to the picnic area/ranger station. I heard back from my friend, turned out he had plans and wouldn't be able to get us that night. It was nice cooking and setting up before sunset, for once, anyway. Plus, we ate dinner with a deer - she hung out munching some greens just a few feet from our picnic table. The next morning we convinced a different friend to drive out and pick us up that afternoon, and headed down toward the Acton KOA.
I hadn't intended on being back in LA for a few months, and it was a bit overwhelming after having been either on the trail or in little towns more or less since graduation. But it was great to surprise my girlfriend - she had no idea I was coming - and I certainly loved getting the chance to shower, eat In-n-Out, and rest my knees, just couch-potatin'. I resupplied, bought some Superfeet insoles and Darn Tough socks, but decided I was feeling good enough that I didn't need to get the knee braces I had put on my to-do list. Probably not a great decision.
We left again from Acton around two pm, well over 100 degrees, and after a quick respite at Vasquez Rocks (think Star Trek), we hiked into Agua Dulce. My knees were killing me, and they only sold ankle braces at the grocery store. We walked the next mile off trail to Hiker Heaven, getting there just before everyone crashed, thankfully. We found a couple camp-cots out in the yard and I passed out almost immediately. The next morning I could properly appreciate just how heavenly the Saufleys' place is - showers, bathrooms, a fantastic movie collection, a couple guitars, hiker boxes galore, foot baths, bikes for going into town... pretty much any amenity a hiker could ask for. Unfortunately, we weren't planning on spending any time there, so after a few quick jams and a brief appreciation of couches, we started packing up. I finally decided I needed to get myself some braces though, so we commissioned "iPod" for a ride to a pharmacy. He took us to Carl's Jr. on the way back to the trail, and we got to talking. "If the Sierras are a 10, which they certainly are, the High Cascades are at least an 8.5," he said. "What would you consider Southern California, then?" Pita asked. iPod sort of rolled his eyes and chuckled: "Training."
Another hot day on the trail. We passed a group of napping hikers early in the afternoon, recognizing them as the group that left the Saufleys' before us that morning. Maybe ten miles into our hike that day we hit a water cache just next to the road, where we took a very long break and refilled. Just before we left, we met Hippie, the only woman in the group we had passed earlier that day. She told us she'd be waiting on the rest for a while, as usual. She asked about my knee braces. "You should be taking 800mg of ibuprofen every twelve hours - this is coming from a nurse you know!" she said. I figured that might not be a bad call. Just around sunset we hit another cache, one that had been on the water report. However, the lil' Oasis Cache had more than water. Glorious carbonated liquid gold! Tecaté and cream soda for me, courtesy of the Andersons of Casa de Luna, slurped down from the comfort of a beach chair. Small ecstasies - what it's all about. The nearly-full moon was just rising as we left the cache, figuring there could only be more of this magic at Casa de Luna. We signed the register, laughing at what a hiker ahead of us, Adventure Time, had written (something along the lines of: "Day 248 on the trail, ran out of water and had to drink my own urine a mile back, then found this cache." He also had circled a squashed mosquito on the page: "See this? Real blood, real mosquito. Can't we do something about this? I must have missed the 'bug-free' section of this cache...").
The trail runs into a highway at mile 478, where the Andersons' home is listed on the trail notes. It describes a two mile walk westward into their community, but doesn't provide an address or proper directions. We found their address but didn't have phone service, so we just started heading that direction. Eventually we stopped to ask someone how to get there, considering Calle el Capitan might not intersect the road we were on. "You guys looking for the Andersons'? Yeah you just... uh... shit. Why don't you just hop in my shitbox over there and I'll drive you up there? I can never describe how to get there." His name was Brian, and he took us up to Casa de Luna. It was nearly 10:30, yet we found people hanging out in the "Lunatic Lounge", the little congregation area of couches and tables in the driveway. Jolly Llama, all tucked in for bed on the couch, gave us a procedure run-down. "Camping is in the manzanita forest out back, food goes in the garage, shower is back to the left, loaner clothes right here, pancakes and coffee in the AM." We found a great soft spot out in the "magical forest", which stretches back for what seems like at least a mile, full of cleared camping sites and funky art pieces.
In the morning, over some delicious flapjacks and coffee, Jolly Llama told us that 478-518 was closed for fire damage, so it was 20 miles - either a road walk or hitch - up to Hikertown. He, like most, was getting a ride over, but told us that a group, including our friend The Walrus, had hiked out this morning on the road. Honeybuzz and Emily appeared out of the manzanita grove and we talked with them about our options. We thought about getting a ride over that evening and hiking out of Hikertown along the aqueduct beneath the full moon. However, after a trip to the convenience store and a six-pack of Mojave Gold, we decided we could afford a day since we were bypassing forty miles of trail no matter what. That afternoon Hippie and her gang showed up - Shoetater, Bourbon, Recon and Slow-mo. We spent the afternoon with this crowd, plus Sprinkler, a German guy named Jorg, drinking beers, arguing about GMOs and playing charades. Terri set us up with the supplies for taco salad for dinner, pretty fantastic. Casa de Luna is a really cool place, also known as "Hippie Daycare." I could describe it, but it'd be better for you to just find out on your own sometime.
We decided we still wanted to night hike with the full moon, so we ended up spending most of the next day on the couches of the Lunatic Lounge. A real sweet lady named Jodi came to give us a lift to Hikertown, and she wouldn't even accept donations. She told us about the problems with the lake in town - all the fish were washing up on shore, dead, and the whole town reeked something fierce - as we drove by, we realized she wasn't kidding and simultaneously thanked ourselves for deciding not to road-walk. Andrew popped into Hikertown to pick up his wallet, which he had left back in Huntington while at home, and we set off on our way. It was a wonderfully flat section, all along the aqueduct, I only wish we had hit the part that wasn't cemented over when the moon was out. Nonetheless it was wondrously bright out all night and we hiked til maybe 12:30. 
Just a little guy 
Anyway - we caught a lift back to the trail and ran into our buddy the Grateful Red (a kid our age who had just graduated from CSULB - the name comes from his long red beard, tie-dye headband and general jam-bandy appearance) in the Vincent's Gap trailhead parking lot. We started the ascension of Baden-Powell together, but I was feeling like absolute garbage and the four miles to the summit climb something like 4000 feet, so I fell behind. At the summit, however, we hung out with him for a while as we snacked and rested. He puts in 30 mile days with ease, and we found out he had been taking it easy recently because he was meeting his dad at Kennedy Meadows on June 20th and didn't want to be sitting there waiting for a week. His dad was going to section hike the Sierras with him, but we were much more fascinated with the event he had previously been training for - the Angeles 100. This is a one-hundred mile, roughly 28 hour trail-running race. That's right, 100 miles, running up and down the mountains that had just kicked my and Andrew's butts, with daypacks for carrying water and such. Oh, and he's over fifty. Pretty impressive family.
We hiked to the edge of an endangered species closure - a roughly three mile area of forest set aside for the protection of the Mountain Yellow-legged Frog - and, as it would seem most of the Class of 2014 has done, elected to hike the "old" Official PCT Alternate, which took us on a short road walk to the Cooper Canyon Trail, which intersects the PCT after just a few miles. We ran into a few ladies from Minnesota hiking the six mile Cooper Canyon trail: "Have you read Wild? That's why we're here!" We smiled and hiked on. The first of many, I'm sure. I filled up on water in a stream near the Cooper Canyon Trail Camp, which had a signboard with a notice about rattlesnakes in the area. Well, no more than thirty feet down the trail, I turned a switchback and, "Whoa!" Biggest rattler I've ever seen, maybe as thick as my forearm and very darkly colored. This was the first to really rattle at us, more of a buzzing really, and man I was pretty much reduced to pre-language, so Andrew didn't know there was a giant snake poised to defend its territory and continued right on up to me. He was about as surprised as I had been, and we made a hasty retreat. I really wanted to go back for a picture, but she was pretty feisty, so we kept on walking. Passed mile 400 that day and went about 12 more miles, set up camp in a little saddle that overlooked a sea of city lights - Lancaster, I figured. Andrew's dad wanted to meet us in Agua Dulce, but I figured if we were to take a zero anyway, we might as well just pop down into LA for the day. My girlfriend was getting her wisdom teeth out the next morning, so I thought it'd be fun to surprise her and show up while she recovered. Being so near a city, we had some phone service, so I asked a friend back in LA if he'd come get us from Hiker Heaven, the Saufleys' home, in Agua Dulce Saturday night. He said he was willing, so it was settled.
We hiked down to a fire station the next morning for water and shade, where we met Honeybuzz, Class of 2011, and his girlfriend, Emily. They're about our age, and we quickly found out that Emily not only attended LMU her freshman year, but lived in my dorm building. Small world! The next ten miles from the fire station have a warning in Half-Mile's trailnotes - poodle dog minefield, essentially. Multiple hikers recommended taking the road instead of the trail, "unless you like poodle dog up to your head and on blow-downs" or something to that effect. We heeded the advice, as did Honeybuzz and Emily. Yeah, yeah, spare me the purist lecture, we're still walking to Canada aren't we? Besides, it was no cakewalk - all uphill on asphalt, no shade. Andrew and I played around with the idea of putting in a 27 mile day, provided my friend could pick us up that night from Acton instead of waiting another full day til we got to Agua Dulce. We didn't have service, but thought we might get some at the North Fork Ranger Station. There's an abundance of poodle dog all the way til the last mile before the station, where it yields instead to poison oak. Lovely. Just before we reached that point, though, as the sun was starting to get low in the sky, Andrew and I were cruising downhill, talking loudly about Game of Thrones. "So, do you think he'll have Robin killed, or use him as a pawn? I think that... HOLY SHIT!" Without so much as a warning rattle, I was leaping away from a striking rattler. Pita complemented my evasive maneuvers, though I'm sure I looked like a flailing mess, and he told me the snake got pretty close to my hiking pole but not terribly close to biting me. I was wide awake for the last few miles to the picnic area/ranger station. I heard back from my friend, turned out he had plans and wouldn't be able to get us that night. It was nice cooking and setting up before sunset, for once, anyway. Plus, we ate dinner with a deer - she hung out munching some greens just a few feet from our picnic table. The next morning we convinced a different friend to drive out and pick us up that afternoon, and headed down toward the Acton KOA.
I hadn't intended on being back in LA for a few months, and it was a bit overwhelming after having been either on the trail or in little towns more or less since graduation. But it was great to surprise my girlfriend - she had no idea I was coming - and I certainly loved getting the chance to shower, eat In-n-Out, and rest my knees, just couch-potatin'. I resupplied, bought some Superfeet insoles and Darn Tough socks, but decided I was feeling good enough that I didn't need to get the knee braces I had put on my to-do list. Probably not a great decision.
We left again from Acton around two pm, well over 100 degrees, and after a quick respite at Vasquez Rocks (think Star Trek), we hiked into Agua Dulce. My knees were killing me, and they only sold ankle braces at the grocery store. We walked the next mile off trail to Hiker Heaven, getting there just before everyone crashed, thankfully. We found a couple camp-cots out in the yard and I passed out almost immediately. The next morning I could properly appreciate just how heavenly the Saufleys' place is - showers, bathrooms, a fantastic movie collection, a couple guitars, hiker boxes galore, foot baths, bikes for going into town... pretty much any amenity a hiker could ask for. Unfortunately, we weren't planning on spending any time there, so after a few quick jams and a brief appreciation of couches, we started packing up. I finally decided I needed to get myself some braces though, so we commissioned "iPod" for a ride to a pharmacy. He took us to Carl's Jr. on the way back to the trail, and we got to talking. "If the Sierras are a 10, which they certainly are, the High Cascades are at least an 8.5," he said. "What would you consider Southern California, then?" Pita asked. iPod sort of rolled his eyes and chuckled: "Training."
Another hot day on the trail. We passed a group of napping hikers early in the afternoon, recognizing them as the group that left the Saufleys' before us that morning. Maybe ten miles into our hike that day we hit a water cache just next to the road, where we took a very long break and refilled. Just before we left, we met Hippie, the only woman in the group we had passed earlier that day. She told us she'd be waiting on the rest for a while, as usual. She asked about my knee braces. "You should be taking 800mg of ibuprofen every twelve hours - this is coming from a nurse you know!" she said. I figured that might not be a bad call. Just around sunset we hit another cache, one that had been on the water report. However, the lil' Oasis Cache had more than water. Glorious carbonated liquid gold! Tecaté and cream soda for me, courtesy of the Andersons of Casa de Luna, slurped down from the comfort of a beach chair. Small ecstasies - what it's all about. The nearly-full moon was just rising as we left the cache, figuring there could only be more of this magic at Casa de Luna. We signed the register, laughing at what a hiker ahead of us, Adventure Time, had written (something along the lines of: "Day 248 on the trail, ran out of water and had to drink my own urine a mile back, then found this cache." He also had circled a squashed mosquito on the page: "See this? Real blood, real mosquito. Can't we do something about this? I must have missed the 'bug-free' section of this cache...").
The trail runs into a highway at mile 478, where the Andersons' home is listed on the trail notes. It describes a two mile walk westward into their community, but doesn't provide an address or proper directions. We found their address but didn't have phone service, so we just started heading that direction. Eventually we stopped to ask someone how to get there, considering Calle el Capitan might not intersect the road we were on. "You guys looking for the Andersons'? Yeah you just... uh... shit. Why don't you just hop in my shitbox over there and I'll drive you up there? I can never describe how to get there." His name was Brian, and he took us up to Casa de Luna. It was nearly 10:30, yet we found people hanging out in the "Lunatic Lounge", the little congregation area of couches and tables in the driveway. Jolly Llama, all tucked in for bed on the couch, gave us a procedure run-down. "Camping is in the manzanita forest out back, food goes in the garage, shower is back to the left, loaner clothes right here, pancakes and coffee in the AM." We found a great soft spot out in the "magical forest", which stretches back for what seems like at least a mile, full of cleared camping sites and funky art pieces.
In the morning, over some delicious flapjacks and coffee, Jolly Llama told us that 478-518 was closed for fire damage, so it was 20 miles - either a road walk or hitch - up to Hikertown. He, like most, was getting a ride over, but told us that a group, including our friend The Walrus, had hiked out this morning on the road. Honeybuzz and Emily appeared out of the manzanita grove and we talked with them about our options. We thought about getting a ride over that evening and hiking out of Hikertown along the aqueduct beneath the full moon. However, after a trip to the convenience store and a six-pack of Mojave Gold, we decided we could afford a day since we were bypassing forty miles of trail no matter what. That afternoon Hippie and her gang showed up - Shoetater, Bourbon, Recon and Slow-mo. We spent the afternoon with this crowd, plus Sprinkler, a German guy named Jorg, drinking beers, arguing about GMOs and playing charades. Terri set us up with the supplies for taco salad for dinner, pretty fantastic. Casa de Luna is a really cool place, also known as "Hippie Daycare." I could describe it, but it'd be better for you to just find out on your own sometime.
We decided we still wanted to night hike with the full moon, so we ended up spending most of the next day on the couches of the Lunatic Lounge. A real sweet lady named Jodi came to give us a lift to Hikertown, and she wouldn't even accept donations. She told us about the problems with the lake in town - all the fish were washing up on shore, dead, and the whole town reeked something fierce - as we drove by, we realized she wasn't kidding and simultaneously thanked ourselves for deciding not to road-walk. Andrew popped into Hikertown to pick up his wallet, which he had left back in Huntington while at home, and we set off on our way. It was a wonderfully flat section, all along the aqueduct, I only wish we had hit the part that wasn't cemented over when the moon was out. Nonetheless it was wondrously bright out all night and we hiked til maybe 12:30.
Little Jimmy Spring
Angeles Forest
Just a little guy 
Vasquez Rocks
The Honey Moon
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Idyllwild - Wrightwood (155-366)
Sorry for the delay - again, didn't edit, bear with me.
Zero days are pretty fantastic. Idyllwild was booked solid, but Andrew's family has a place down the mountain in Palm Desert and his mom was already heading there, so we grabbed a pizza and a pitcher of Firestone Walker at Idyllwild Pizza Co (no words can describe how amazing that was) and waited for Mrs. Pita to come pick us up. Shower, lacrosse quarterfinals, resupply, fresh produce, pool and hot tub, a real bed - need I say more?
Due to the fire closure, we had to hike up the Devil's Slide Trail to a PCT junction around mile 177. This would have been great had there not been hundreds of boy scouts with giant external frame packs and massive groups of day hikers clogging up the trail. It cleared up a little once we hit the saddle junction so we decided to take the alternate trail that goes to the summit of San Jacinto. It was real hazy at the top, not much of a view, so we didn't hang around long. Filled up at a mountain stream and headed down Fuller Ridge to about mi195. The next morning, Memorial Day, we accidentally slept til eight, at which point it was already pushing 100°. The descent from the Fuller trailhead to Snow Creek Village, a community at the base of the mountain, is only 4.3 miles by crow but runs over 15 trail miles, and neither Andrew nor I had as much water as we'd have liked. At the bottom of the hill there's a bit of trail magic - a house in Snow Creek leaves coolers of ice water, oranges and a kiddie pool for foot soaking out in their front yard. We hung out til about 3pm and hiked the hottest 5 miles of our trip thus far across the flats and beneath the highway in Cabazon to the Whitewater Trail House, owned and operated by the famous Ziggy and the Bear.
Ziggy and the Bear are both in their 80s and aren't former PCTers themselves, just lovely people with huge hearts. Crow and the Walrus had beaten us there and were sitting in the shade as the Bear took down our info and took our pictures for their logbook, then set us up with gatorades, Epsom salt footbaths and showers. We were so beat from the hot hike down Jacinto that we decided we'd call it a day and sleep in their yard on the padded floor and wake up at 4 in order to beat the heat on the hot climb out of Cabazon. The Bear insisted on waking up to make us coffee and breakfast before we left.
"One night we had 92 hikers back here. And we've had probably 200 quit right here on the spot, couldn't take the heat!" the Bear said. We asked if he'd been a thru-hiker himself. "Me? I wouldn't hike it if they gave it to me. Ziggy and I have been doing this for a long time though. Started in the town of Anza. Eventually we had a landlord wanted us to start charging hikers $15 a night, said it was 'better than the Taj Mahal.' I said no way, he wanted to raise our rent, so I said 'Screw you' and we ended up here. A hiker sold his house to help us build all this."
"All this" was a fully padded backyard for camping, glass enclosures to block the wind, a solar shower, compost bins, and all sorts of other eco and hiker-friendly amenities. It's truly a great place and Ziggy and the Bear are special people. We ate some cereal, drank some coffee and promised the Bear we'd send a card if and when we reach Manning Park.
The long climb up above Mission Creek runs right by Mesa Wind Farm, and we were real glad we left at five AM. By noon we'd already logged 15 miles so we hung in the shade by a creek crossing for about four hours as the temperature remained in the triple digits. This was the day we first encountered poodle dog bush... very similar in effect to poison oak, but prettier and much larger. We camped after only five more miles, despite the early progress, and got a late start the next day. It was a rough morning until we ran into Scott and (Tim? Taylor?) who were crushing miles compared to us. This served as motivation and we kicked in the afterburners, making it just 8 miles short of the spot from which we would hitch into Big Bear Lake. Along the way we passed Cienega Creek Ranch, host to multiple bears in cages maybe four times their size. It seemed unfair for us to be traipsing about in their kingdom while they could hardly move. We hoped it was some type of rehabilitation center and moved on until we found a little dumpster with "PCT MAGIC" painted on it, full of sodas and oranges. Score. And there was a couch - with Crow sleeping on it. We slugged a soda each as Crow told us that the bears were Hollywood bears, kept here until needed for filming. She also told us the big grizzly had accidentally killed a man while wrestling.
The next morning was one of the coldest but we packed quickly and snagged a ride into town - not before finding another soda cache a hundred yards from the road. It's incredible how the trail can change your feelings on junk food. There was no one at the Big Bear Hostel to check us in so we went over to Saucy Mama's for pizza, garlic fries, a pitcher of Fat Tire and then ice cream next door. We resupplied, did laundry, ate in town, watched a movie and slept in. Glorious near-0. Once we dragged ourselves out of bed we ate a massive breakfast at the Teddy Bear Restaurant, a place I'd eaten at on my only previous trip to Big Bear, then caught a ride back to the trail with trail angel Papa Smurf.
A 19 mile day put us back down into the desert, but the next day we climbed up to Deep Creek. Deep Creek is known for its natural hot springs - clothing optional. Lots of folks took that option to heart... we just hopped into the cold part of the creek and headed forward. We saw a couple thru-hikers, a rattler and camped near an unexpected water cache just beyond the Mojave River Spillway.
I woke the next morning to the sound of Crow passing us, followed by a hiker we'd yet to have seen. We worked our way through the heat to Lake Silverwood - the trail skirts shores full of jet ski beach goers and fishermen. We made it to the Cleghorn picnic area around two pm, ready for the water and shade. As we sat there planning the rest of the day, a big tatted guy named Lavelle asked if we 'd mind if he smoked there. We said we didn't and got to talking. He was blown away by the idea that people actually thru hike and gave us beer and juice, offered some of the food he was grilling and told us about his life in San Bernardino after getting out of Compton. Not long after, the guy who walked past us that morning strolled up. His trail name is Wilder (because his name is Gene) and he offered to have his wife pick us up after the climb up to Guffy Campground and let us stay at his home in Piñon Pines the following night. We night-hiked just short of the McDonald's at Cajon Pass after passing a sleeping rattlesnake, a 27 mile day.
I had been looking forward to breakfast at McDonald's, honestly, but the experience was just about as mediocre as I expected. Crushed a whole lot of food and set off on the brutal climb up to Guffy. 22 miles uphill through poodle dog bush, plus another 5 or 6 downhill to Inspiration Point where Wilder was waiting for us - he took the day off. Never been happier to see headlights in my life; my knees were shot after two 27 mile days and it was already 10pm. He and his wife were unbelievably generous to us - they gave us beds, let us shower and cooked up a huge meal for us before we crashed.
The next morning I spoke to Wilder over French toast, fresh fruit and coffee. We talked a lot about climate change (and I wasn't even the one who brought it up!) and environmental changes he'd seen in his lifetime. "I can't speak for the rest of the planet, but I've lived here around Wrightwood my entire life. There were always at least patches of snow from November to March when I was a kid. A storm would blow in and dump ten feet up at Guffy; hell, in 1932 Big Pines was considered for the Winter Olympics!" he said. Debra leaned in from the kitchen - "Oh, and all the fatalities," she said. Wilder worked for the Forest Service most of his life - he even helped build the PCT in 1969: he was seventeen and "just swung a pick all day long." When he worked as a fireman for LA county, living in the area, he saw over 30 snow or ice related fatalities. "19 in one year," he said. "It'd snow all across the range, then rain and freeze solid. A couple was coming down the Acorn Trail and hit some ice; people would get out at the turnoff, step up to the edge for the view and just slide off; I hung up a bunch of warning signs: "DANGER, ICY: STAY IN YOUR CARS" but it didn't matter. Eventually I got the highway shut down but that takes a long time to do. This year? Ski areas couldn't even stay open through March. It's so hot and dry, the trees have no sap to defend themselves. Virtually all the pines down here have died or burned - I'm sure you've noticed the bark beetle devastation." We had.
In ways it feels like we're taking what may be the last chance to see the real Pacific Crest Trail. For one, the post "Wild" book/movie craze is going to flood the trail next year through the foreseeable future. More importantly, the forests out here are going quick. We've walked through so many burn scars and have even had to take alternate routes around burn areas; invasive species like castor bean and others that thrive after fires (like the dreaded poodle dog) rule the mountain sides; all the lakes are low; streams that are perennially reliable have been bone dry... the list goes on. The other day an Angeles Forest ranger told us he was happy we'd get to see the Sierras "while they're still green."
Anyway, we took a zero in Wrightwood after chatting with Wilder and Debra for a few hours, complete with pizza and beer and the latest Game of Thrones episode on my phone screen. (June 3rd)
Just before Ziggy and the Bear's
Mission Creek
DO NOT pet the poodle dog
Poor guy
Saucy Mama's
Deep Creek
Mt Baldy
Lake Silverwood
Zero days are pretty fantastic. Idyllwild was booked solid, but Andrew's family has a place down the mountain in Palm Desert and his mom was already heading there, so we grabbed a pizza and a pitcher of Firestone Walker at Idyllwild Pizza Co (no words can describe how amazing that was) and waited for Mrs. Pita to come pick us up. Shower, lacrosse quarterfinals, resupply, fresh produce, pool and hot tub, a real bed - need I say more?
Due to the fire closure, we had to hike up the Devil's Slide Trail to a PCT junction around mile 177. This would have been great had there not been hundreds of boy scouts with giant external frame packs and massive groups of day hikers clogging up the trail. It cleared up a little once we hit the saddle junction so we decided to take the alternate trail that goes to the summit of San Jacinto. It was real hazy at the top, not much of a view, so we didn't hang around long. Filled up at a mountain stream and headed down Fuller Ridge to about mi195. The next morning, Memorial Day, we accidentally slept til eight, at which point it was already pushing 100°. The descent from the Fuller trailhead to Snow Creek Village, a community at the base of the mountain, is only 4.3 miles by crow but runs over 15 trail miles, and neither Andrew nor I had as much water as we'd have liked. At the bottom of the hill there's a bit of trail magic - a house in Snow Creek leaves coolers of ice water, oranges and a kiddie pool for foot soaking out in their front yard. We hung out til about 3pm and hiked the hottest 5 miles of our trip thus far across the flats and beneath the highway in Cabazon to the Whitewater Trail House, owned and operated by the famous Ziggy and the Bear.
Ziggy and the Bear are both in their 80s and aren't former PCTers themselves, just lovely people with huge hearts. Crow and the Walrus had beaten us there and were sitting in the shade as the Bear took down our info and took our pictures for their logbook, then set us up with gatorades, Epsom salt footbaths and showers. We were so beat from the hot hike down Jacinto that we decided we'd call it a day and sleep in their yard on the padded floor and wake up at 4 in order to beat the heat on the hot climb out of Cabazon. The Bear insisted on waking up to make us coffee and breakfast before we left.
"One night we had 92 hikers back here. And we've had probably 200 quit right here on the spot, couldn't take the heat!" the Bear said. We asked if he'd been a thru-hiker himself. "Me? I wouldn't hike it if they gave it to me. Ziggy and I have been doing this for a long time though. Started in the town of Anza. Eventually we had a landlord wanted us to start charging hikers $15 a night, said it was 'better than the Taj Mahal.' I said no way, he wanted to raise our rent, so I said 'Screw you' and we ended up here. A hiker sold his house to help us build all this."
"All this" was a fully padded backyard for camping, glass enclosures to block the wind, a solar shower, compost bins, and all sorts of other eco and hiker-friendly amenities. It's truly a great place and Ziggy and the Bear are special people. We ate some cereal, drank some coffee and promised the Bear we'd send a card if and when we reach Manning Park.
The long climb up above Mission Creek runs right by Mesa Wind Farm, and we were real glad we left at five AM. By noon we'd already logged 15 miles so we hung in the shade by a creek crossing for about four hours as the temperature remained in the triple digits. This was the day we first encountered poodle dog bush... very similar in effect to poison oak, but prettier and much larger. We camped after only five more miles, despite the early progress, and got a late start the next day. It was a rough morning until we ran into Scott and (Tim? Taylor?) who were crushing miles compared to us. This served as motivation and we kicked in the afterburners, making it just 8 miles short of the spot from which we would hitch into Big Bear Lake. Along the way we passed Cienega Creek Ranch, host to multiple bears in cages maybe four times their size. It seemed unfair for us to be traipsing about in their kingdom while they could hardly move. We hoped it was some type of rehabilitation center and moved on until we found a little dumpster with "PCT MAGIC" painted on it, full of sodas and oranges. Score. And there was a couch - with Crow sleeping on it. We slugged a soda each as Crow told us that the bears were Hollywood bears, kept here until needed for filming. She also told us the big grizzly had accidentally killed a man while wrestling.
The next morning was one of the coldest but we packed quickly and snagged a ride into town - not before finding another soda cache a hundred yards from the road. It's incredible how the trail can change your feelings on junk food. There was no one at the Big Bear Hostel to check us in so we went over to Saucy Mama's for pizza, garlic fries, a pitcher of Fat Tire and then ice cream next door. We resupplied, did laundry, ate in town, watched a movie and slept in. Glorious near-0. Once we dragged ourselves out of bed we ate a massive breakfast at the Teddy Bear Restaurant, a place I'd eaten at on my only previous trip to Big Bear, then caught a ride back to the trail with trail angel Papa Smurf.
A 19 mile day put us back down into the desert, but the next day we climbed up to Deep Creek. Deep Creek is known for its natural hot springs - clothing optional. Lots of folks took that option to heart... we just hopped into the cold part of the creek and headed forward. We saw a couple thru-hikers, a rattler and camped near an unexpected water cache just beyond the Mojave River Spillway.
I woke the next morning to the sound of Crow passing us, followed by a hiker we'd yet to have seen. We worked our way through the heat to Lake Silverwood - the trail skirts shores full of jet ski beach goers and fishermen. We made it to the Cleghorn picnic area around two pm, ready for the water and shade. As we sat there planning the rest of the day, a big tatted guy named Lavelle asked if we 'd mind if he smoked there. We said we didn't and got to talking. He was blown away by the idea that people actually thru hike and gave us beer and juice, offered some of the food he was grilling and told us about his life in San Bernardino after getting out of Compton. Not long after, the guy who walked past us that morning strolled up. His trail name is Wilder (because his name is Gene) and he offered to have his wife pick us up after the climb up to Guffy Campground and let us stay at his home in Piñon Pines the following night. We night-hiked just short of the McDonald's at Cajon Pass after passing a sleeping rattlesnake, a 27 mile day.
I had been looking forward to breakfast at McDonald's, honestly, but the experience was just about as mediocre as I expected. Crushed a whole lot of food and set off on the brutal climb up to Guffy. 22 miles uphill through poodle dog bush, plus another 5 or 6 downhill to Inspiration Point where Wilder was waiting for us - he took the day off. Never been happier to see headlights in my life; my knees were shot after two 27 mile days and it was already 10pm. He and his wife were unbelievably generous to us - they gave us beds, let us shower and cooked up a huge meal for us before we crashed.
The next morning I spoke to Wilder over French toast, fresh fruit and coffee. We talked a lot about climate change (and I wasn't even the one who brought it up!) and environmental changes he'd seen in his lifetime. "I can't speak for the rest of the planet, but I've lived here around Wrightwood my entire life. There were always at least patches of snow from November to March when I was a kid. A storm would blow in and dump ten feet up at Guffy; hell, in 1932 Big Pines was considered for the Winter Olympics!" he said. Debra leaned in from the kitchen - "Oh, and all the fatalities," she said. Wilder worked for the Forest Service most of his life - he even helped build the PCT in 1969: he was seventeen and "just swung a pick all day long." When he worked as a fireman for LA county, living in the area, he saw over 30 snow or ice related fatalities. "19 in one year," he said. "It'd snow all across the range, then rain and freeze solid. A couple was coming down the Acorn Trail and hit some ice; people would get out at the turnoff, step up to the edge for the view and just slide off; I hung up a bunch of warning signs: "DANGER, ICY: STAY IN YOUR CARS" but it didn't matter. Eventually I got the highway shut down but that takes a long time to do. This year? Ski areas couldn't even stay open through March. It's so hot and dry, the trees have no sap to defend themselves. Virtually all the pines down here have died or burned - I'm sure you've noticed the bark beetle devastation." We had.
In ways it feels like we're taking what may be the last chance to see the real Pacific Crest Trail. For one, the post "Wild" book/movie craze is going to flood the trail next year through the foreseeable future. More importantly, the forests out here are going quick. We've walked through so many burn scars and have even had to take alternate routes around burn areas; invasive species like castor bean and others that thrive after fires (like the dreaded poodle dog) rule the mountain sides; all the lakes are low; streams that are perennially reliable have been bone dry... the list goes on. The other day an Angeles Forest ranger told us he was happy we'd get to see the Sierras "while they're still green."
Anyway, we took a zero in Wrightwood after chatting with Wilder and Debra for a few hours, complete with pizza and beer and the latest Game of Thrones episode on my phone screen. (June 3rd)
Just before Ziggy and the Bear's
Mission Creek
DO NOT pet the poodle dog
Poor guy
Saucy Mama's
Deep Creek
Mt Baldy
Lake Silverwood
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Quick update
So I've been slackin' hard and haven't finished the post covering Idyllwild to Wrightwood. Not sure when I'll have internet next to get it published so here's just a little glance at how I'm doing:
Mile/day avg since Idyllwild: about 24
Health: couple blisters, my knees hate me, all else is good
Weather: hot hot hot and windy
Wildlife: couple more rattlers; deer; millions of lizards, bees and other insects that love to fly into our faces.
Music: best walking album so far is definitely Stranger by Balmorhea, but listened to lots of post-rock like Explosions in the Sky, classics like the Doors and Pink Floyd, etc. and a few new bands my buddy Miles put on a playlist for me (La Luz, Sleepy Sun, etc)
Best on-trail snack: not the best in terms of caloric content or anything, but I've been crushing those Annie's Gummy Bunnies like no ones business. My homemade trail mix with almonds, cashews, fruit I've dehydrated and whatever Bristol Farms calls their version of M&Ms is pretty fantastic as well.
Best trail meal: tortilla soup mix blended with garlic herb instant mashed potatoes
Best off trail food: gotta say Saucy Mama's in Big Bear - pineapple, jalapeño, bell pepper and onion pizza with garlic fries and a pitcher of Fat Tire.
Trail-name: still waiting for one!
Mile/day avg since Idyllwild: about 24
Health: couple blisters, my knees hate me, all else is good
Weather: hot hot hot and windy
Wildlife: couple more rattlers; deer; millions of lizards, bees and other insects that love to fly into our faces.
Music: best walking album so far is definitely Stranger by Balmorhea, but listened to lots of post-rock like Explosions in the Sky, classics like the Doors and Pink Floyd, etc. and a few new bands my buddy Miles put on a playlist for me (La Luz, Sleepy Sun, etc)
Best on-trail snack: not the best in terms of caloric content or anything, but I've been crushing those Annie's Gummy Bunnies like no ones business. My homemade trail mix with almonds, cashews, fruit I've dehydrated and whatever Bristol Farms calls their version of M&Ms is pretty fantastic as well.
Best trail meal: tortilla soup mix blended with garlic herb instant mashed potatoes
Best off trail food: gotta say Saucy Mama's in Big Bear - pineapple, jalapeño, bell pepper and onion pizza with garlic fries and a pitcher of Fat Tire.
Trail-name: still waiting for one!
Monday, May 26, 2014
The first 150: Campo, CA to Idyllwild, CA
So in light of the frequency (or lack thereof) that I have internet access, I'll be writing pretty broad blog posts - maybe something along the lines of weekly breakdowns. If you want the excruciating details, you'll have to come meet me on the trail and buy me a beer! Or wait til after. And buy me a beer. This first one will be fairly winded, and I didn't have time to edit. Shoot me a message if there are any glaring errors or redundancies. Anyway, here goes nothing.
"You guys going all the way to Canada?" said Walrus, the 49 year old from Portland who we've been barely keeping up with. "I made it to Ashland in twenty-ten, figured I'd give it another go." And just like that, he was cruising down the trail ahead of us as we took one last look at the divide between the US and Mexico.
Day One was our hottest so far. We didn't get moving til about 11am, so we were forced into taking breaks wherever we could find shade. Typically we would want to just hang out away from the sun from about noon to four, but we had intentions of making it the whole 20mi to Lake Morena. That didn't happen. We got to Hauser Creek, mi 15.4, as the sun went down and we found a water cache there. Shout out to the trail angels, much appreciated. As I rummaged through my pack I realized I no longer had the physical copies of our maps for the section - must have gotten caught on something while jammed into my outer pocket. Good thing we have phones.
The water report said there was a running creek about 1.5 mi off trail so we only took enough from the cache to get there. Well, maybe we just missed it in the dark, or all we found were stagnant pools of water. We slowly hiked back to the cache and set up camp, an extra pointless three miles under us.
The climb out of Hauser up to the lake (the largest and most remote in SD county, though it looked more like a puddle) was a long, hot five miles so we decided we'd siesta til about 5 and go another 6 miles to Boulder Oaks Campground and call it an easy day. That's when we found the Oak Shores Deli... Banana nut milkshake: need I say more? We found Walrus there with Crow, a little old lady who started from Campo a few hours after we did; and she had our maps. The hike to the campground was no sweat, and we were in high spirits.
Day Three was our first twenty miler. We hiked up out of the low desert into a pine forest that looked and smelled like Tahoe. Now, the desert is much more beautiful than what you're probably picturing as you read this - at this point we'd seen thousands of flowers, all sorts of lizards and birds, horned toads, a tarantula - but going up to Mount Laguna was a welcome change. Sitting outside the little market in town with Crow, ahead of us again, we met a woman who had ridden the PCT on horseback 40 years ago. She, her sister and niece had pulled off the highway just to see if we were thru-hikers and talk with us.
"You guys are a little late!" Which virtually everyone we've come across has pointed out. I gave my standard 'had to graduate' spiel that I'm already tired of saying. "First time?" she said. I said yes, but Crow revealed that this was her fifth PCT hike. They were as impressed as I was, and said they'd offer to drive us to their place for showers if only they lived more nearby. "Who needs showers? I live in a primitive cabin in Washington, I go months without showering." said Crow. Well, that explains why she can hike as many miles as Andrew and I. A few miles of crazy wind through a burn area til we set up camp at mi 47.7.
Day Four was pretty exciting - just after mile 55 I stepped on a loose rock and slid about five feet. I regained my balance with my left foot about eight inches from a humongous coiled rattlesnake. I jumped back and whipped my trekking poles into battle mode, but wasn't even met with a rattle. Andrew and I realized there were actually two snakes, one licking the other, smaller one, all over. The smaller one wasn't moving, we figured maybe it had died and this was either some showing of grief or hr was trying to snatch all the moisture from a pal who didn't need it anymore. We skirted them and kept on after a few pictures (alas! Taken with my point and shoot, not sure when I'll be able to upload). We took a lunch break and another thru-hiker named Chris came up on us.
"D'ja see those rattlesnakes mating back there?" Ah, should've known. "I came across them and thought, 'Son of a bitch, this is some National Geographic!'" We shot some small talk back and forth and went on our way. We saw another huge black diamondback who booked it off the trail as soon as we got within view as well as some other non-rattler. We spent a brutally windy night at mi 68.4 near a water faucet.
The next morning we hiked to music for the first time down through a nice flat plain to Scissors Crossing (77.7) then hitched into Julian for a free lunch, homemade pie and a much needed water fill. Jackie was our driver, a sweet lady who works in the sheriff's office. She gave us a rundown of town history and offered us a place to hang out for the day if needed. We met some Australian girls in town who are out this way doing elevation training - they're relay runners and Olympic hopefuls. And they wanted a picture with us, said we were the crazy ones for hiking the PCT!
Hitching back to the trail took a little longer but we eventually got a ride with Jay, the local propane guy, who was full of hilarious anecdotes about Julian. We wanted to make it to the water cache at mi 91 but after a couple hours of night hiking in vicious winds we called it a day as soon as we found a suitable spot. On day five we passed the 100mile mark and dropped down out of the San Felipe Hills into a vast valley covered in what seemed to be thistle and castor bean. We camped near San Ysidro Creek under a bunch of oaks around mi 105.
The next morning we reached eagle rock, took pictures and our packs off to do a little boulder scrambling. We were eager to get to Warner Springs, though l, where our first resupply boxes were waiting for us. We hung out for a few hours at the Hiker Resource Center, a seasonal stop with food, showers, laundry, internet and, most importantly, a guitar. We met Antonia from southern Australia, as well as Megan and Josh from Anchorage. Threw some clothes in the wash, played some jams and made fun of daytime television. One of the volunteers drove us to the post office to pick up our packages, and we ended up dumping a fair amount of food into the hiker box. The hike out from Warner Springs was wonderful; the trail climbs up into a verdant creek section. We missed a stream crossing and did a little pack-on boulder scrambling til we realized we were off-trail. The detour did result in the discovery house, molcajete (guacamole bowl) made of volcanic rock that was either a Native American artifact or a very strange luxury item someone packed out from Willem Sonoma... We camped in a boulder field at 124 and decided against setting up the tarptent despite the warning of potential morning thunderstorms.
We hiked down a few miles to Trail Angel Mike's house, where we met Strange Bird, Nina and Kushy. We got the last two drinks in the cooler - a Sierra Mist and a Tecate ("we'll just have to tell everyone else 'too late!'" Kushy chuckled, "I'm the full time care taker now, and we had over 60 hikers here at once this season.") We had a hilarious conversation with Strange Bird, and then he started saying how the clouds sure looked as if they were brewing up some lightning. Well, he was right. We hung around for three hours, munching on fresh watermelon and quesadillas compliments of Nina, and hiked out as soon as we saw a break in the clouds to the NW.
We made it maybe a mile before the three systems in the area converged on us. We found a little spot to duck out from lightning and threw the tent over us as it started raining. Then it started hailing. Eventually we decided we'd just brave the weather and set off; we hiked about 17 mi to one of the famous water caches and set up the tent, now filthy from the rain.
The next morning was an easy nine or ten mile trip down to the Paradise Cafe, where we each had a Paradise Valley Reserve on draught and ate a massive lunch. There was an elderly guy playing blues guitar on the patio - out there every day - who even played a cover of "After Midnight." We sat across the highway trying to hitch for about 20 minutes til a nice guy named Mike gave us a lift into Idyllwild.
I've definitely learned a lot already: about myself, about Pita, about the desert and about the trail. I miss my loved ones like crazy already. I have a new appreciation for how fragile life is, and how amazing water is. The desert has proven to me all life is purposive: it wants to stay alive! A cactus is proof of that... It's absolutely incredible how quickly you can travel between ecosystems. I won't keep rambling though.
"You guys going all the way to Canada?" said Walrus, the 49 year old from Portland who we've been barely keeping up with. "I made it to Ashland in twenty-ten, figured I'd give it another go." And just like that, he was cruising down the trail ahead of us as we took one last look at the divide between the US and Mexico.
Day One was our hottest so far. We didn't get moving til about 11am, so we were forced into taking breaks wherever we could find shade. Typically we would want to just hang out away from the sun from about noon to four, but we had intentions of making it the whole 20mi to Lake Morena. That didn't happen. We got to Hauser Creek, mi 15.4, as the sun went down and we found a water cache there. Shout out to the trail angels, much appreciated. As I rummaged through my pack I realized I no longer had the physical copies of our maps for the section - must have gotten caught on something while jammed into my outer pocket. Good thing we have phones.
The water report said there was a running creek about 1.5 mi off trail so we only took enough from the cache to get there. Well, maybe we just missed it in the dark, or all we found were stagnant pools of water. We slowly hiked back to the cache and set up camp, an extra pointless three miles under us.
The climb out of Hauser up to the lake (the largest and most remote in SD county, though it looked more like a puddle) was a long, hot five miles so we decided we'd siesta til about 5 and go another 6 miles to Boulder Oaks Campground and call it an easy day. That's when we found the Oak Shores Deli... Banana nut milkshake: need I say more? We found Walrus there with Crow, a little old lady who started from Campo a few hours after we did; and she had our maps. The hike to the campground was no sweat, and we were in high spirits.
Day Three was our first twenty miler. We hiked up out of the low desert into a pine forest that looked and smelled like Tahoe. Now, the desert is much more beautiful than what you're probably picturing as you read this - at this point we'd seen thousands of flowers, all sorts of lizards and birds, horned toads, a tarantula - but going up to Mount Laguna was a welcome change. Sitting outside the little market in town with Crow, ahead of us again, we met a woman who had ridden the PCT on horseback 40 years ago. She, her sister and niece had pulled off the highway just to see if we were thru-hikers and talk with us.
"You guys are a little late!" Which virtually everyone we've come across has pointed out. I gave my standard 'had to graduate' spiel that I'm already tired of saying. "First time?" she said. I said yes, but Crow revealed that this was her fifth PCT hike. They were as impressed as I was, and said they'd offer to drive us to their place for showers if only they lived more nearby. "Who needs showers? I live in a primitive cabin in Washington, I go months without showering." said Crow. Well, that explains why she can hike as many miles as Andrew and I. A few miles of crazy wind through a burn area til we set up camp at mi 47.7.
Day Four was pretty exciting - just after mile 55 I stepped on a loose rock and slid about five feet. I regained my balance with my left foot about eight inches from a humongous coiled rattlesnake. I jumped back and whipped my trekking poles into battle mode, but wasn't even met with a rattle. Andrew and I realized there were actually two snakes, one licking the other, smaller one, all over. The smaller one wasn't moving, we figured maybe it had died and this was either some showing of grief or hr was trying to snatch all the moisture from a pal who didn't need it anymore. We skirted them and kept on after a few pictures (alas! Taken with my point and shoot, not sure when I'll be able to upload). We took a lunch break and another thru-hiker named Chris came up on us.
"D'ja see those rattlesnakes mating back there?" Ah, should've known. "I came across them and thought, 'Son of a bitch, this is some National Geographic!'" We shot some small talk back and forth and went on our way. We saw another huge black diamondback who booked it off the trail as soon as we got within view as well as some other non-rattler. We spent a brutally windy night at mi 68.4 near a water faucet.
The next morning we hiked to music for the first time down through a nice flat plain to Scissors Crossing (77.7) then hitched into Julian for a free lunch, homemade pie and a much needed water fill. Jackie was our driver, a sweet lady who works in the sheriff's office. She gave us a rundown of town history and offered us a place to hang out for the day if needed. We met some Australian girls in town who are out this way doing elevation training - they're relay runners and Olympic hopefuls. And they wanted a picture with us, said we were the crazy ones for hiking the PCT!
Hitching back to the trail took a little longer but we eventually got a ride with Jay, the local propane guy, who was full of hilarious anecdotes about Julian. We wanted to make it to the water cache at mi 91 but after a couple hours of night hiking in vicious winds we called it a day as soon as we found a suitable spot. On day five we passed the 100mile mark and dropped down out of the San Felipe Hills into a vast valley covered in what seemed to be thistle and castor bean. We camped near San Ysidro Creek under a bunch of oaks around mi 105.
The next morning we reached eagle rock, took pictures and our packs off to do a little boulder scrambling. We were eager to get to Warner Springs, though l, where our first resupply boxes were waiting for us. We hung out for a few hours at the Hiker Resource Center, a seasonal stop with food, showers, laundry, internet and, most importantly, a guitar. We met Antonia from southern Australia, as well as Megan and Josh from Anchorage. Threw some clothes in the wash, played some jams and made fun of daytime television. One of the volunteers drove us to the post office to pick up our packages, and we ended up dumping a fair amount of food into the hiker box. The hike out from Warner Springs was wonderful; the trail climbs up into a verdant creek section. We missed a stream crossing and did a little pack-on boulder scrambling til we realized we were off-trail. The detour did result in the discovery house, molcajete (guacamole bowl) made of volcanic rock that was either a Native American artifact or a very strange luxury item someone packed out from Willem Sonoma... We camped in a boulder field at 124 and decided against setting up the tarptent despite the warning of potential morning thunderstorms.
We hiked down a few miles to Trail Angel Mike's house, where we met Strange Bird, Nina and Kushy. We got the last two drinks in the cooler - a Sierra Mist and a Tecate ("we'll just have to tell everyone else 'too late!'" Kushy chuckled, "I'm the full time care taker now, and we had over 60 hikers here at once this season.") We had a hilarious conversation with Strange Bird, and then he started saying how the clouds sure looked as if they were brewing up some lightning. Well, he was right. We hung around for three hours, munching on fresh watermelon and quesadillas compliments of Nina, and hiked out as soon as we saw a break in the clouds to the NW.
We made it maybe a mile before the three systems in the area converged on us. We found a little spot to duck out from lightning and threw the tent over us as it started raining. Then it started hailing. Eventually we decided we'd just brave the weather and set off; we hiked about 17 mi to one of the famous water caches and set up the tent, now filthy from the rain.
The next morning was an easy nine or ten mile trip down to the Paradise Cafe, where we each had a Paradise Valley Reserve on draught and ate a massive lunch. There was an elderly guy playing blues guitar on the patio - out there every day - who even played a cover of "After Midnight." We sat across the highway trying to hitch for about 20 minutes til a nice guy named Mike gave us a lift into Idyllwild.
I've definitely learned a lot already: about myself, about Pita, about the desert and about the trail. I miss my loved ones like crazy already. I have a new appreciation for how fragile life is, and how amazing water is. The desert has proven to me all life is purposive: it wants to stay alive! A cactus is proof of that... It's absolutely incredible how quickly you can travel between ecosystems. I won't keep rambling though.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Day One - The Border
So there I am, 4am on May 15, 2014: I'm supposed to leave in one hour with my parents, my brother, my girlfriend and my best friend to pick up my hiking partner Andrew from Huntington Beach then head to Campo, and I'm frantically trying to pull my last minute preparations together. Finally the anxiety arrives. After a few what the hell am I getting myself into moments and twenty minutes of searching for my underwear, I finally got the last of my dehydrated meals and snacks into my overstuffed and poorly packed Granite Gear VC 60 and we hit the road. At 6:30. So much for beating the heat. I tried sleeping in the car but my stomach was upset and I was too excited.
It was only at this point that I realized how little time I'd gotten to spend with my loved ones this past week, what with graduation obligations, move-out insanity and questionably last minute gear purchases. I couldn't help feeling a tinge of remorse as we got nearer and nearer to the US-Mexico border, where I'd shed all comforts and conveniences that can't fit on my back. But as we said our goodbyes and took the typical PCT monument photos, I felt overcome by the support these folks have given me and I was damn excited to put the first of over 2600 miles behind me.
...and I can already say that I wouldn't have made it this far without their help!
*I'll be posting an entry for the first 150 miles later today during our Zero Day
It was only at this point that I realized how little time I'd gotten to spend with my loved ones this past week, what with graduation obligations, move-out insanity and questionably last minute gear purchases. I couldn't help feeling a tinge of remorse as we got nearer and nearer to the US-Mexico border, where I'd shed all comforts and conveniences that can't fit on my back. But as we said our goodbyes and took the typical PCT monument photos, I felt overcome by the support these folks have given me and I was damn excited to put the first of over 2600 miles behind me.
...and I can already say that I wouldn't have made it this far without their help!
*I'll be posting an entry for the first 150 miles later today during our Zero Day
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