Memories from May 3

Despite the plan to leave at 5:45am, I was the only one ready and other than that, Julie was the only one out of her sleeping bag.

In honor of wanting to get to Big Bear as soon as possible, I ate and took off my jacket while hiking and so soon found myself out front. I slowed down and wound up walking between Julie and Kate in front and Sven and Jan behind. I was perfectly positioned to not be able to distinguish either conversation but enjoy the different qualities if everyone’s voice. Kate was musical, Julie light laughter, Sven stereotypically French, and Jan chortling laughter.

We took a mud morning break to let everyone catch up, eat breakfast, and change out of warm clothes now that the morning sun had set in. Kate and I had once discussed how when hiking by yourself, you walk slower but stop less frequently and for shorter duration. This wound up being an ironic case in point as I hadn’t needed the break at all and I stayed back at the first turn to make sure Kate wouldn’t miss it because she hadn’t been able to get through her entire morning routine during the break.

We had a second break within a few miles of Big Bear where we could get cell service. We were getting pretty excited since we’d been carrying water from Pappy and Harriet’s the mid-morning before. Eddie was going to get away with only 4 liters of water for the 28ish miles and I’d given him a bunch of crap for not carrying enough water. Jan who’d set out with six or more liters poured some out for weight reduction.

I looked up directions to the Big Bear Hostel where I had a reservation and explained my plan. One of the hard parts of hiking with a group is that everyone is hiking their own hike and so groups can dissolve as quickly as they form.

We all set out. Julie, Sven, and Jan dropped back a little and I caught something about finding a connection to the PCT. When I got to the bottom of the hill, Kate was behind me but no one else. After some waiting and zooming around our phone’s maps, we found a place where the PCT passes close by road and assumed they’d bushwhacked through there. After a few more minutes and walked the threeish miles to the Big Bear City post office where Kate had a package and was on the route to the hostel. At the corner store across from the post office were Sven, Julie, and Jan!

We all wound up at the Big Bear Hostel that evening though Eddie and Christine just stopped by to check the hiker box and hang out.

Memories from May 2

From Yucca Valley we took Pioneertown Road to… Pioneertown where we got water at Pappy and Harriet’s where AC/DC apparently once played and seems to be the only industry in town other than a rodeo stunt show across the road.

Pioneertown Rd continued to Rimrock where we siesta’ed in a ditch under a sign saying Big Bear in 28 miles. We were carrying 27 miles of water since Rimrock didn’t appear to have any establishments. Just as we were leaving, a guy pulled up and offered us the use of his well.

The sign to Big Bear pointed down Burns Canyon road which was very sandy and so hard to walk on. After some time, we ran into a local who warned us that the people down the road weren’t used to seeing outsiders. While we didn’t see anyone the houses were well kept. As we reached the golden hours, the orangish dirt of the road and Joshua trees were somehow reminiscent of Hawaii.

After a break to let everyone catch up, we walked into the early evening until we came across a turnout for ATVs with a few campsites. The light was too low for pictures but it was quite nice except for the broken bottle shards which forced me to abandon my first choice of site for fear of my air mattress.

Over dinner Julie expressed her desire to get to Big Bear the following day. It was decided that we would leave at 5:45am so that we would actually leave by 6am.

Memories from May 1

Where Ziggy and the Bear live.

We set out late from Ziggy and the Bear’s. Eddie recognized a trio if hikers who had come in late last night and recruited them to join our little band to walk around the Fire Closure north of Ziggy and the Bear’s. I had passed the trio yesterday and spoken briefly when they later caught up as I was finishing a rest break. Sven (of France), Jan (of Germany), and Julie (of Canada) had come from San Jacinto the night before and done about 33 miles getting lost in the flats a few miles before Ziggy and the Bear’s and had gotten in at 9:30pm. Sven had a lot of blister care to do and they understandably weren’t the first up in the morning. At the last moment, we were joined by Kate (of Germany).

As we took a frontage road out of Whitewater, an older lady, apparently on her daily power walk joined us long enough to pass on some tips for healthy living (vegetarian), a good life (she works three jobs, generally with children), and some advice about the end times.

I’d been walking up front with Jan and Julie when we took our first break. No one had looked up directions more precise than following highway 10 to highway 62. I found a connecting road (Painted Hills Road) which took us through a windmill farm. At highway 62, we looked up frontage roads on our phones and found one (Worsley) which took us about 5 of the approximately 8 miles to Yucca Valley, the first town on our detour. After a discussion as whether it’s better to walk with or against traffic and whether we really wanted to cross the highway, we set off.

We passed a crew apparently setting up to do some filming. They had water and snacks on the side if a fifth wheel and for a moment I thought that it was trail magic before remembering that we weren’t on the trail.

During a rest stop I gave away a liter or so of water. I need to start getting my food and water planning dialed in.

Where Worsley crossed North Indian Canyon Drive, we went back to Highway 62 for a miserable threeish mile road walk. We were generally able to stay outside the white line and rumble strip but sometimes had to walk outside the guard rail. It was good we’d chosen to walk against traffic (that way you get to see what makes you roadkill) since the other shoulder was practically nonexistent.

At the first gas station on the edge of town, I immediately walked to the outdoor ice box, removed the open padlock, grabbed a bag of ice, replaced the open lock and turned towards the door to pay for bag of wonderful relief. Almost before I could take a step, a woman was out of the mini-mart had a hand on my arm. I got a clear warning that I couldn’t take my dirty things into the store and then was asked what wanted with the bag if ice. I told her I wanted to pay for the bag if ice to which she responded by urgently calling for someone named Carl. I stood and waited while she called for Carl when suddenly she said that the ice was free and shooed me away. I withdrew to a grassy spot between the gas station and the parking lot next door. Eddie had been a short ways behind me and guessed that she thought I was stealing the ice. As they arrived, we mentioned for the others to join us and avoid the gas station. Instead, we went to the next gas station down the street and spent a great deal of money on chips and sports drinks.

For the night, we camped in an well vegetated field nearby. I almost sat on a cactus while pooping after dinner and got some prickly balls embedded in the soles if my cheap flip flops which I only use for camp. The spines only push through the sole all the way when pressure is applied, say by a footstep.

Memories from April 30

I woke up, packed up, and was gone saying goodbye to Fre’ek only because he got up to pee.

I met Camile and Lilly walking the uphill roads to Devil’s Slide which would take us up more to Saddle Junction where we could need the PCT. They’re originally from France but have lived in China and Australia. Camile is a software project manager and Lilly most recently had a job breaking horses. Couples who manage to live all over the world are really inspiring.

I left them at the trailhead and pushed upwards. Devil’s Slide reminded me of Mt Si in it’s grade and constant upward trend. There were clouds and fog so I rarely got a view the trees were sparse so it probably would have been gorgeous.

After Saddle Junction, the PCT reminded me of what I remembered of the low Sierras I found so inspirational five years go. The mix of granite, pine trees, and hard hiking is intoxicating which is good because I’d secretly been hoping to be able to make it to Ziggy and the Bear’s.

The clouds didn’t disperse so I only got a few good looks at the wider terrain

Until I got to Fuller Ridge, it was cold enough that I’d have wanted gloves and a jacket for any period of inactivity which wakes me worry a little about the Sierras.

I passed Blossom who is from Eastern Washington and seemed to generally be traipsing along by herself almost oblivious to the major concerns of most other hikers: Idyllwild, fire closures, daily mileage, etc… I walked with her for maybe 15 minutes during which time we passed a number for student groups from Cal State Fulleridge out on a field trip for their Wilderness Leadership course.

It turns out that when I printed my maps in black and white at 2 pages per sheet, I made it almost impossible to distinguish the trail. This became relevant because I reached a junction with one trail and the Halfmile app on my phone said the next junction was in 0.7mi but I could see a trail sign less than 100 feet away for the trail whose juncture I was expecting later. The PDFs of the maps I have on my phone resolved the issue but it turns out that my space saving techniques rendered the maps almost unusable.

The last dependable water for about twenty miles looked to be so strong that without a warning in the waypoint notes, probably wouldn’t have filled up because it seems like such a strong water source would imply weaker, but still usable ones later. It was my first taste of fresh meltwater on the trip and I didn’t bother filtering.

As the day wore on, I started hitting more and more small patches of snow until the the elevation got low enough. It was fine but I’m going to be glad to have microspikes later.

The second part of the day was a very drawn out of descent many thousands of feet. The terrain changed back to chaparral and as I passed under the clouds, I felt high enough to be like an airplane descending because everything below looked so small.

I’m the most aggressive person I know when it comes to use hiking poles; sometimes I feel more quadrupedal than bipedal. On long, well graded descents this is most visible I’ll use my poles like handrails, leaving my feet free to quickly and lightly run down the trail. It’s a funny technique in that most of the motion is below the knees and outward from the shoulders. It can feel skiing. I also use the poles to swing over short spaces where rocks clutter the trail and would make precise foot placement both important and time consuming. All this pole work got me down Fuller Ridge around 6pm, notably having passed a guy whose train name is Turbo. Other than nature calls, I only stopped three times all day and by the bottom Fuller Ridge my elbows hurt as much as my feet and knees.

There’s a brief road walk at the bottom of the ridge and it just enough downhill to make a light jog easier than a walk.

I passed a trio of younger female hikers on the road. There was a breeze strong enough to make a light noise and they were deep in a bubbling conversation which I guess is why when I politely said “pardon me” to request enough room to pass, the young lady nearest me shrieked and jumped causing a chain reaction of screaming and jumping. I was tired enough that it took a moment to even register that this was out of the ordinary.

I was glad it was still light since after the road the trail crosses a floodplain and in some places the markers are far enough apart and the trail itself indistinct that I made my way by following footprints.

After the sun was behind the hills but before full dark, I did finally make it to Ziggy and the Bear’s. I met the Bear when I opened the side gate and he welcomed me with a gatorade brought by a volunteer and mugshot with my name and number (number of people who passed through). I took GI shower, found a group looking to do the road walk around the closure the next day and went fell asleep under the stars tired but happy.

I haven’t done a precise count but I think it was a 36 mile day.

Memories from April 29

Despite our intent to sleep late, we’d packed up and departed by 8:30am.

I had a sore throat and prodigious mucous production during the morning.

Scott put a beer into one of his water bottles which he shared after we’d finished the uphill portion of the trek from Lake Hemet Campground to Idyllwild which was just 7mi but pretty hilly.

Twice I was accosted by strangers and given cookies. Once in Idyllwild between the thrift store and the campground, a car pulled over and a man (Mark?) said his wife made them for hikers. There was an e-mail the bag but I forgot to send a thank you. The other time was when I was leaving the post office and a lady named Diane called out, “hiker – have I given you cookies yet?”

Originally I was thinking of continuing today but while everyone was paying their mere $3 for the shared PCT hiker site, I broke down and decided to stay the night. I’m on the edge of sick, don’t know how long it will take to run errands, and am not thrilled about the possibility of thunderstorms while camping and extra several thousand feet.

Mom’s recommendation for the sore throat is 10,000mg of vitamin C. It was actually more like, take 5,000 at first then another 1,000 every hour until your stomach starts gurgling and you might get the runs. I got a bottle of vitamin C chewables which tasted like orange candy and wound up eating half today. No stomach or bowel issues but my pee is practically fluorescent so I think I saturated.

Two of the groups I’d liked with previously unexpectedly camped in the same campground and ate the same picnic table that night. KBar showed up and later Max, Pierre, and Kaya. I finally heard the song Isaac by Bear’s Den which Kaya had mentioned. From what I caught of the words it’s about a Father’s love for his so Isaac which I liked. At dinner I incorrectly stated that everyone I’d done miles with was at the table, forgetting John and Zucchini, and Connor and the Aussies.

Memories from April 28

I’d slept I my hiking clothes and down jacket so I was up quickly and was all packed up before anyone but Fre’ek had made an appearance. There were small ice crystals on the tents and a cold fog though there wasn’t any frost.

When we started out of camp for the last mile before the PCT was closed, it was immediately obvious how sheltered our camp had been. An icy fog was blowing through and the plants had up to 3/8ths of an inch of ice on them. It was a beautiful and mystical, if cold and wet experience.

I need to get pictures of it all from Freya, Scott, and Fre’ek, especially sign warning of fire closure which had been iced over.

Eventually we got to the bottom of the hill and out of the park via a side trail. We found beer and Coke cached just before we hit the road. There was also a sign warning to be prepared for hazardous conditions. Where was that sign going up from the other side?

We’d been low on water since breakfast but the only on-mountain water would have been a two mile hike out if our way and with the cold and wet, we weren’t exactly drinking a lot. However, once on the road, we trespassed on to an empty Girl Scout Camp and asked a mechanic where we could find a spigot. As we were about to start filling up, another caretaker opened the door next to the spigot and let us get water from his sink.

At the end of the road there was a T intersection where I waited for Fre’ek, Freya, and Scott. Splitter had overtaken us and I’d hiked with him for a bit. He’s Australian which immediately made me regret calling Kate and Rip Snorter “the Aussies” as though they were the only ones.

We were joined at the intersection by Fruit Cup and The Australian Terminator. Fruit cup had been known for hiking in orange colored long pants and for the first time, on this cold, wet morning, he’d switched to shorts. The Australian Terminator (Terms for short) was notable for the great speed at which he hiked. I tried to keep up with him as we departed for the Lake Hemet Store a little over 3 miles away. After cheating with a jog step every once in a while, my calves gave up and I let him go.

After lunch and loitering at the Lake Hemet Store, Scott, Fre’ek, and I decided to rent a trailer home at the campground for the night. Gear needed drying, the weather wasn’t making up it’s mind, and I was beginning to feel like my body could use a chance to catch up with the accumulating strain. Freya hitched into Idyllwild and so forwent the option to have a “continuous footstep” trip to Canada.

The Lake Hemet Campground where we rented a spacious single wide trailer with glorious hot showers also had laundry facilities and WiFi! I’ve always underestimated the morale boost of clear skin and clothes.

Memories from April 27

Fre’ek, Scott, and I broke camp around 5:30am and walked 7ish miles to Highway 74. Down the road was Paradise Valley Cafe. We were still on the trail side of a gate, deciding whether or not to hitch the mile down to the cafe when a car flipped a U-turn and yelled out the window asking if we wanted a ride.

Awesome Possum and Disco were already at the restaurant at another table. Freya showed up shortly. We’d heard that it was the best burger on the trail but lunch didn’t start until 11am so I got an omelette, biscuits, and gravy. I’ve heard that hiking makes you so hungry that everything tastes good. That hasn’t happened to me yet. It was still nice to clean up a little in the bathroom. Fre’ek found an Sawyer backflush syringe for me since my filter has been so slow since the Sunrise Spring Trailhead that I’d taken to sitting on the dirty bag to get enough pressure to drive the filter.

On the way out of the cafe, we were again offered a hitch before asking. The guy said he was flying back to Florida so I guess he was driving hikers to and from the Paradise Valley Cafe for fun before his flight.

Fre’ek, Scott, Freya and I decided to hike an alternate route up to the fire closure and then down a side trail. Camping just before the closure would make it a short day but I don’t have good maps of the area and I enjoy the company so I’m just along for the ride. I’m ahead of schedule so I remind myself to not worry about milage.

The trail up to the fire closure is pretty. There are some interesting rock formations where we hung out for a while.

We were passed by a group of one guy and three girls slack packing. I can’t tell if the were all technically one group since two of the girls stopped to clamber around some of the rocks with us. Later, when we passed then, the male was sunning himself on a rock on the side of the trail with only a well placed hat for modesty. The females were about ten feet down the trail talking among themselves.

The trail wound continually upwards towards some pretty grand views.

Fre’ek, Scott, and I got to the first option for a campsite slightly ahead of Freya. It had similar vegetation to Foothills Park back home with a light grey-brown, dirt and bushy trees with small leaves. It was well sheltered but still early so Fre’ek looked up a weather report.

When Freya caught up we surprised ourselves with a vote to move on and a short climb later found ourselves at a site on a ridge line sheltered by dense but leafless trees. We set up our shelters in a circle so as to have a living room but wound up going to bed early. It was a false start because at some point I woke to a discussion of Economics and Sustainability which eventually turned to politics. I really enjoyed Fre’ek’s explanation of why American politics is broken. Apparently things are somewhat more based on policy and less given to partisan deadlock in the Netherlands.

Despite the weather report saying it would be a clear night for cowboy  camping, we were all glad to have pitched shelters as the clouds flew by.