Memories from May 9

I set out early. The climb above Wrightwood is supposed to be one of the larger continuous elevation gains on the trail. However, the PCT was envisioned for horseback riders as well as hikers and apparently horses can’t handle more than a gentle incline for very long. It made all that elevation gain sound a lot worse than it was. I made it about 20 miles to Wrightwood by 1pm.

There was a cloud trapped in a distant valley which was pouring over the containing hills. The cloud spread out to the horizon in one direction so it looked like the sea had found the edge of the world and was pouring off.

In the way, I ran across a guy called Ultra Heavy. He was sitting on log in the side of the trail. We got to talking and he said he was packing so much intentionally because he’s always had a “greyhound mentality” and wanted something to force him to slow down.

Splitter caught up while I was talking with Ultra Heavy and I hiked into Wrightwood with him. We took a side trial called the Acorn trail down to the town it which had elevation change characteristics more consistent with a number of popular day hikes than the PCT. It was down so I could fly with my poles.

In town, Splitter and I hit up the hardware store which has a section for hikers and a list of trail angel’s contact info. Splitter found a guy named Jeff willing to put up 6 hikers and who had shower and laundry facilities. Then we loitered at some picnic tables outside Jensen’s, the local grocery store which nicely and a strip of outdoor electrical outlets conveniently placed near the tables. I went in and came out with watermelon and half gallon of milk.

While we were loitering, an older woman pulled up in a truck and asked I there were any strong hiker bodies she could borrow. Splitter and I volunteered. Carol drove us a short distance to her house where we helped put sides on another truck then she drove us back to the store. The entire adventure was made somewhat more interesting by the fact that she didn’t actually tell us what we were going to do until it was time to do it. For example, when she was actually driving us back to Jensen’s, we under the impression that we were going somewhere to help her load the truck for a dump run.

Around 5pm Jeff came and collected Splitter, myself, Terminator, Gargamel, Texas Tracker, Fruit Cup, Tupac, Jeff (hiker not trail angel), and Michelle into his truck had drove us to his place about 1.5 miles outside of town. Splitter had never ridden in the back of a truck before and today rode in the back of s truck twice. Jeff set us up in his garage which had carpeting laid over the cement. He showed us to the shower and laundry, both of which were through his bedroom. There was a second bathroom not through his bedroom.

Terminator has been itching to give Fruit Cup a shakedown since Fruit Cup has as a lot of obvious opportunities to lighten his pack and Terminator is a huge gear head. As we laid our sleeping places out, there was sudden explosion of shakedowns as everyone started going through their packs and commenting jovially on each other’s equipment.

Terminator going through Fruit Cup’s pack.

Jeff drove us back into town for dinner. Despite a valiant attempt, I only downed 9 of my 10 tacos. I was given slightly incorrect directions when I asked Tupac where Jeff lived which lead to 20ish minutes if me wandering around, getting as far as Jeff’s neighbor before walking away again thinking I’d gone too far.

Memories from May 8

There’s a McDonald’s where the PCT crosses highway 15.

Also, I have a mere 2296 miles to go.

Which means I’ve come 342 miles.

The McDonald’s is a highlight which few hikers miss. I came for breakfast and stayed for lunch. There were many hikers both that I knew and were new.

For Mother’s Day, someone’s mom treated herself to a drive up to the McDonald’s and was distributing lasagna, bread sticks, and fruit inside.

After calling mom and leaving a message twice I moved on.

The trail had a few interesting obstacles.

As it climbed, despite being near a busy highway and railroad the view felt well composed.

I found some interesting bushes.

I needed to dry my gear and after dropping over a ridge, found a secluded campsite deep in the brush. On my way out around 5pm with dry gear and having caught up on a few blog posts, I surprised a pair of hikers who were settling in at a spot not quite as deep in the brush. I’d heard them say how hidden and private it was and decided it was better to leave before I became privy to anythings not intended for my ears.

Despite intending to pound out at least four more miles, I crossed Terminator & Co who pointed out that the trail was just about to start up a hill with no campsites so settled in with them.

Memories from May 7

I’d slept in my clothes and so was first out of camp in the morning. The trail wasn’t particularly notable but had a pleasantly pastoral view for a while.

The trail wound down to a highway and crossed a particularly scenic hydroelectric facility and gravel mounds.

Whatever this is, it looked pretty cool. This was the smallest part of dam infrastructure. Dams are really big.

After a while, the trail cut over to a sprawling lake and took it’s time tracing the lake’s outline.

There was a side trail to a beach which I missed and didn’t realize it until I was far enough along to not want to go back. Instead, having made 14 or 15 miles by noon, I decided to take a siesta at a nearby picnic area. After stuffing my face (I found a sleeve of girlscout cookies in the bottom of my food bag), I half napped face down on a picnic table and half listened to Let Your Life Speak. This isn’t a book review blog nor my personal diary so I’ll have just share one tidbit – that it was somehow calming to hear someone vocalize the idea that culture feeds white males a lie that they can make themselves anything. Instead, a central theme of the book is that all people have inherent proclivities and limits which they will be more satisfied if they respect. I’ve struggled with the idea that having a big impact is something of a birthright I need to live up to and that a normal life would somehow be a letdown. I think it was calming because it felt like I was being given the permission to be normal.

The book is short so when it finished, I got up and lazily walked a few more miles.

Memories from May 6

Today was mostly spent hiking alog a valley cut by Deep Creek. There was lots of local access so there were constant signs about fishing rules, no motor vehicles, and no camping. I’m not quite sure when “no camping” applies to thru hikers because sometimes we’re allowed to break certain rules.

I crossed the largest bridge I’ve seen so far.

And saw some new plants.

But the real highlight of the day was the Deep Creek Hotsprings. Clothing is optional but apparently PCT hikers aren’t as wild as AT hikers. Only one, well stoned hiker (not pictured) dropped their skivvies and still kept a shirt on, if unbuttoned.

I haven’t done much waiting on the trail. I get up in the morning, break camp as quickly as possible, and breakfast while walking taking my first break when something forces me to (sometimes that’s a view so pretty if grabs your head and makes you look and so you stop because you stumble because you can’t see where you’re going). I got to the hot springs and, like a someone checking boxes on a to do list, hopped in the first pool I saw. Only after I was beginning to overheat, and was thinking if getting out and moving on, did I realize that I was under absolutely no compulsion to do such a thing. Instead, I hopped over the low wall of rocks cemented together to hold the softly steaming water and into the cool stream. I paddled around for a few tens of yards coming across other pools which were generally occupied and slackline which, while tempting (I’ve never tried one) looked like it was over unfortunately shallow water. Eventually I came back to the hot tub sized pool I started in and decided to wait until someone I knew showed up. With the exception of one sunburned fellow in red boxer briefs who was horseback riding the PCT, people didn’t seem particularly outgoing.

In time, Splitter, Eddie, Christine, Terminator, and a bunch of others made their way down to the hot springs. After a couple hours, Terminator commented that he’d heard that the place got pretty wild and so it wouldn’t be a good place to stay the night. I was low on water and there was a warning in Halfmile’s trail notes about elevated levels of fecal coliform so we moved on.

I got water from a side stream a few miles down the way.

The miles from the Deep Creek Hot Springs to the Mojave Dam were a beautiful traverse high or on the valley wall.

I camped with Terms (short for Terminator, short for The Australian Terminator) below the Mojave dam that night. A guy named Tim was christened Tupac because his pack has an two large bags in the front. Two Pack… Tupac…

Memories from May 5

One of the games I’m playing is that all forward progress from Mexico to Canada needs to be made by foot. It doesn’t necessarily need to be on the PCT since some route-arounds are required but from time to time I’ll be walking along a road and have to turn down an offer for a ride because the particular segment I’m walking is forward progress as opposed to “sideway miles” into town for resupply. This morning that meant that I could take a bus from the hostel to the post office but had to walk from there. After some examination maps, I found a road which went north from near the post office and eventually intersects the PCT about 10 miles ahead if where Eddie, Christine, Julie, Sven, and Jan cut over to it near highway 18. This is nice because it’s within the rules of my game but didn’t make me retrace the three miles if highway I’d walked in to town which hadn’t been particularly pleasant.

Back on the PCT near mile 276 just after Caribou Creek, the trail wound through a former burn area which is in the middle if recovery.

The trail followed a valley which seemed like it would eventually run in to a cloud which was rolling in over the hills from the south but somehow never quite got there.

Around lunch time, I crossed a picnic area and there were Eddie and Christine. It was fun to see them because when you leave people on the trail, even if they hike about the same pace as you, you never know if you’ll see them again. Splitter was at the table as well and I met Woodchuck and Adam.

I left the table after a quick lunch and the trail continued on past the fire scar, eventually winding into scenery which had a small majesty to it when crowned with clouds. It isn’t captured well on camera but here’s what I got.

Memories from May 4

Today was mostly just town chores. Caught up on blog entries, bought groceries, some toiletries and replacement flip flops. I bought eggs, bacon, fruit and with the pancake mix at the hostel, made a wonderful breakfast which was just about the most perfect start to the day that could have possibly happened.

The day ended well when Jan, Sven, Julie, Kate, and I all made dinner together. We had cheeseburgers, salads, fresh vegetables, mashed potatoes with beans and other veggies mixed in (a graceful recovery from an attempt to make potato patties which were too crumbly).

Jan slaving away over salad dressing.

I was the burgermiester for the evening.

Random shot of the kitchen featuring Jan, Kate, and a passerby.

This was too crumbly to make into vegetarian patties but made a delicious mashed potato dish.

Family style dinner at the Big Bear hostel.

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.