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.

Memories from April 26

Connor, Kate, Rip Snortin, and I were slow to leave Mike’s place in the morning. The upside was that Tom and Josh made pancakes and hash browns.

A few miles down the trail Kate got internet access, downloaded a new water report and informed us that Tule Spring was dry. This was bad because Connor and I only had water to make it to Tule Spring and the 15 miles following were marked as waterless. I went started rationing my water pretty aggressively. Tom had assures us that the water in the creek below Tule Spring was running strong. The water report was emphatic that it was not. I split from Connor and the Aussies since I could walk faster without sweating. The saving grace was that it wasn’t really that hot despite only having a weak breeze.

After a couple hours of walking and considering options, I came across some hikers headed the other direction. They were finishing a section that they’d been snowed out of during their thru-hike last year. They’d also passed Tule Spring a few hours before and seen a well stocked water cache!

There were other hikers at the cache who looked familiar from Mike’s but I hadn’t talked to. They moved on shortly after a round of introductions. I stayed to make sure Connor and the Aussies wouldn’t miss it.

While I was waiting and eating lunch, Tom Firth drove by on his ATV to refill the water jugs. He’s a retired electric lineman who now works with the Backcountry Horsemen and has been refilling the Tule Spring water cache twice a day. Recently, an expert was called in who discovered that the spring itself has gone dry as have many other springs in the area. The springs are fed from underground rivers fed by the Sierra snowpack which even in this El Niño year isn’t at 100% of historical average everywhere.

Connor and the Aussies showed up as did Scott, who I’d met the night before while he was in the middle of explaining Kelvins, and Miles. They’d been taking a siesta down by the remainder of the creek which Scott had been able to get a liter from though there hadn’t been much water.

It looked like our initial plans to depart at 3pm after a siesta were going to be delayed so I headed out on my own. The seven-ish miles to some campsites among large boulders had a few other gems left by trail angels (see the note at the end if this panorama)

There were a number of half familiar faces among the boulders that night. I wound up making plans to head out the next morning with Scott and Frake (I Dutch spelled Freek). The trail is closed 10 miles after Highway 74 due to a fire and subsequent landslide a few years ago. We plan to take an alternate route which gets us as far as we can. The hope is to make all forward progress to Canada by foot and along the PCT when possible, hitchhiking only when we hitchhike back to the same place and keep walking.

Memories from April 25

I let the sun wake me up this morning. It’s a nice way to get up and I was still the first out of their tent.

The walk for most of the morning was across gentle fields where the light would illuminate the grass as it blew making it look like lustrous hair.

I passed Eagle Rock

And then Warner Springs:

I didn’t have a resupply in Warner springs but my water filter has been so slow that I’m looking for a new one (yes, I’ve tried a couple of back flushes). Just leaving Warner I met Kate and Rip Snorting (whom I think of as The Aussies). They were hiking with a guy named Connor who also worked in software.

They set off at a blistering pace so despite my intent to take an easy day, I kept up which was made easier when the pace quickly slackened and stayed that way for most of the day. We got to talking and Kate tried to trail name me Excel because I talked about work with Connor for half an hour.

We crossed a stream and I washed shirt and socks. But didn’t bathe. As I write this a few days later, I look back on that with regret. We also learned what poison oak looks like from a nicely marked sample.

Originally the Aussies were bound for a campsite which would have made it a low 20 mile day for me. Then someone said that they’d heard that a trail angel named Mike made pizza for hikers and Kate decided we were going to make it there instead. Kate had been the slowest all day until about 6pm with daylight burning. I think her trail name should be Flyin’ Kate.

Mike wasn’t at Mike’s Place but Tom, a trail angel, and Josh, the caretaker, were making pizzas and keeping a fire going as hikers set up for the night in one of the weather beaten buildings or pitched a tent in the yard. There was supposed to be a strong wind a good chill which underscored by a few seconds of hail. I pitched my tarp against the side of a building using a hole in the wall and the handle of an olden times laundry roller used to squeeze water out of clothing.

Going to sleep that night I could hear Connor reading to the Aussies as has apparently become their tradition.

Memories from April 24

Zucchini, John, and I broke camp shortly after dawn.

Zucchini set a quick but steady pace. Something about it reminded me of how I used to try to hike at the same speed on uphills, flats, and downhills. It was something of a reminder of how to hike with strength. It may sound strange but the concepts of hiking quickly and hiking with strength are different for me. Hiking with strength is the mindset you use when you have to maintain an aggressive pace for a long time. Hiking quickly can be a sprint at the end of the day which isn’t sustainable.

We passed Rusty and his girlfriend camping in a wash who then passed us during a water break after which we caught up to them and hiked in to the Scissors Crossings water cash together. There was water so I took four liters to get up to five and set out with John for a 24ish mile waterless section.

The trail after Scissors Crossing is by far the driest we’d encountered so far. The cactus changed from being multi-armed or small and round to single posts up to a few feet high. John and I talked as we climbed which made the elevation gain pass more easily but also lead to me draining my first liter well ahead  of schedule.

The trail became a very flat traverse slightly under the top if the hill which went in and out of every wash in the most meandering manner possible. We took a break in the only shade we saw but lunched under the open sun.

I didn’t have enough water to be comfortable for a night out so John and I parted ways since he quite understandably didn’t want to commit a 30+ mile day. He’d also taken an extra liter. I’m trying to get over water insecurity by practicing not carrying significantly extra. Apparently I’m still working on that.

The rest of the day was mostly just a long hard push. I ran across and old man with a feeble voice moving slowly. The kind of guy who you’d think might be en route to a nursing home if he weren’t half way through a very dry and hilly, if well graded, hike.

The vegetation started getting greener but there was one specific turn around which the north side of the hills suddenly became visible. It was like going from desert to farm country in a single step. From that point my water insecurity dried up.

I passed the 100 mile marker.

I camped that night with a guy named max who had a fire going which was nice because I could keep warm while giving my upper body a sponge bath with a bandana. I had trouble setting up my tarp because the stakes wouldn’t hold in the sand and unlike a tent, it’s not freestanding.

Memories from April 23

I made it from the Mount Laguna Camp Ground to the Rodriguez Fire Tank about 20 miles away today. I started at 4:00am and enjoyed sunrise along a traverse over the desert valley we’d seen the day before. Unfortunately my camera stopped being able to focus so it’s just dead weight. I kill cameras so quickly.

I didn’t see any other hikers during the morning as the trail continued away from the harsh dessert to a slightly greener covering of bushes between waist and shoulder height. I’d been in reflective as tends to happens on morning solo hikes and decided to start a new section of my notebook called “musings”. I’ve never been one to journal but a good overlook can be inspiring. The grandiose end of my sophomoric personal inquiry as captured in that notebook seems to be that I enjoy diversity as long as I can find common ground. You know, because we didn’t learn that in elementary school.

A little after 11am I got to the Sunrise Spring trailhead where most of my dinner company from the night before was planning on stopping. I rested in the shade if the trailhead outhouse because when something is the only option it’s better than the alternative and dried gear which was damp. I know I have good, thick socks because of how long they took to dry.

Eventually other hikers started arriving and I went to filter water from the trough with them. My filter jammed or something because the flow is incredibly slow. Kelley tried to get me named Fresh again. She was nice about it but things started gathering steam when Lucas jovially pointed out that when someone declines a trailname, that’s when you call them it. I left for the Rodriguez Spur Fire tank.

I only got a far as the trailhead when I ran into Cita who told me a local had told her the next 32 miles were waterless. I’d seen a warning about that after the Rodriguez Spur fire tank but went back and got an extra two liters so I could get to Scissors Crossing and hitch to town if necessary.

I’d assumed the 8 miles to Rodriguez Fire Tank were downhill but they were all actually downhill then over another hill. I was hoping to make it over the sand and past the cactus in one stretch but had to eat something 2.5 miles out and dragged myself in in a sorry state.

There was a trio if ladies on a weekend trip at the fire tank. I filtered two liters and set up to cowboy camp at respectful distance. Then Zuccini came rolling in, dropped her pack and was sitting on her Z-Rest eating penutbutter in like 60 seconds. Zucchini is a 19 year old ski instructor who finished the Appalachian Trail in November and is hiking the PCT before starting college in the fall. In another few minutes she’d struck up a conversation which managed to include the entire campsite.

As the sun was setting when John pulled up. He and Zuccini had met at some point and he set down for his first cowboy camping ever by her. Zuccini was heading into Julien from Scissors Crossing and John was going on. We decided to hike out together the next morning and I’d go with John if there was water at the cache. I’m trying to get over my water insecurity and Zucchini says she packs 1 liter for every five miles so I figured I’d give that a try.

Memories from April 22

Woke up at 4:00am and was out by 4:30am. Almost immediately lost the trail where it crossed a road. Eventually I turned on my headlamp and the reflective PCT sign lit up across the way. If only I’d done that before walking a quarter mile down the road. It’s nice walking to just the light of a brilliant moon though. Everything strikes you differently.

Filtered water for the first time on the trip and met a guy named Cort while doing so. He’s wanted to hike the PCT for 7 years and I for 5 so we got along well maligning the Wild effect.

Less than a mile from the Mount Laguna turn off, I snacked with Tracy and Charlie who are empty nesters from Oklahoma. Very pleasant. They’re doing about 10 miles a day until they’re back in shape. Tracy had a whippet with the tag still on it because it had come too late to ship. Charlie and I eventually got to talking politics. It turns out that we both want Mike Rowe of Dirty Jobs for president. Between that and a conversation with KBar about religion yesterday I’ve successfully broken the two great conversational taboos.

At the Mount Laguna Lodge I got my resupply box and wound up meeting Mario, half of a French duo who had saved up for a winter working at a resort to hike the PCT after seeing Wild. I hiked with him, his friend Pierre, and Kaya who is most recently from Germany but has lived all over the world and works on philosophical documentaries.

Mario set a blistering pace. We reached a very windy overlook of what I think is the Mojave. It was our first sweeping overlook in a journey which I undertook ton see glorious landscapes.

At the Mount Laguna Campground that night I met a bunch of other internationals: three  Swiss siblings (Mario, Christine, and Regina) who I kept thinking were from Germany, Tosten who actually was from Germany and English Pete who is a freelance writer and despite his accent now an American.

I’d been hoping to hike with some of them the next day but the two Frenchmen hadn’t packed enough food to get to Warner Springs so they were going to hitch back to Mount Laguna. Regina or Christine had blisters to they were only going 12 miles to the Sunrise Spring trailhead. Kaya seemed undecided. I left my contact info with Mario and hope to see them again.

I was offered the trailname “fresh” today for reasons that are a little unclear but have something to do with my dehydrated food and low key attitude. It didn’t feel like a great fit because it’s an adjective and is hard to explain.

Memories from April 21

Woke up at 4:00am. On trail at 4:45am. Morning hiking is great. The cool air makes hiking very comfortable.

Passes someone on the ground with a tarp over them like a blanket. I haven’t seen that tarp setup before.

Around 8am, I passed KBar as he was breaking camp. He had 1 liter of water for about 8 miles. I told him I expected he wouldn’t die. KBar caught me during a break shortly thereafter and I offered a liter of water which he accepted with the rejoinder that if I ever smoke weed, I should do it with him because he has the best. He departed but I caught up and we hikes together for a while.

Hiking with KBar, we ran across the Swedes, Pontus and Linda. KBar was excited when Linda almost grudgingly accepted his offer smoke a little. They had been planning to hike to Lake Morena (20 miles) in 3 days but were making good time and had plenty of water. Linda’s hair looked dyed as was the hair of the last two Swedish women I met. She says it’s a relatively common thing there. As KBar and I departed the shady rest spot, the Swedes were kind enough to point out that we immediately missed the sign for the trail and were about to go the wrong way.

I left KBar near Hauser creek with Neema who accepted his offer to split a bowl. He was very excited. I don’t think I’ve met anyone as genuinely excited about sharing weed as KBar.

I passed Ray and Karma on the way up out of Hauser Creek. Ray is a talker who hiked the first 50ish miles last year but had to bail due to a medical condition. This year he’s back and going a little slow but has a 95 liter pack (most people have 58 or 65 liter packs and mine is 45)which he can use for snow gear if he has to push into November. Karma was the first person I’d seen on the trail with an umbrella (reflective hiking umbrellas used as parasols in the desert are one of the enjoyable oddities of distance hiking).

About 2.5 miles from Lake Morena, the sun and hunger required an emergency siesta. As I was finishing up, KBar caught up and threw himself down under the same tree. He was very red in the face and said he was dizzy. I gave him a liter and since I didn’t have plans except to leave lake Morena at 5pm decided to wait for him to take a siesta so we could walk in together.

I chatted with passing hikers which eventually woke KBar. After a little more water we headed out. He had a headache, was dehydrated, and seemed in a foul mood. He explained that he dealt with things by cursing them out.

At 2.5mi on the dot KBar said, “I think we’ve gone two and a half miles.”

KBar’s friends Yukon and Kellen had zero’d at the Lake Morena camp ground waiting. His mood improved immediately. I think he’d been worried about be left behind.

Ray and KBar had promised to buy me a beer and malt because of the water I’d given them. The made good on this at the Oak Grove Malt Shop.

I start thinking of the PCT as summer camp for adults. You run around outdoors and make new friends. Most of my hiking today was with someone.

The 6ish miles from the Lake Morena Campground to Boulder Oaks Camp Ground was very flat and I flew making it in 1:30 or 1:45 including meeting Becca and Andrew. I’ve met Andrew and Lake Morena and completely forgotten which was awkward because he recognized me.

Split a campsite with Kyle, Kyle’s friend whose name I’ve forgotten, Ralf, Andrew, and Becca. Andrew was in engineering and he and I dominated the dinner conversation for a little too long but it wasn’t too bad.

Washed clothes and rinsed off in the campground spigot.