Almost there... Our blog has been a wee bit quiet lately and may not have any entries until after we're done with the trail (which really isn't that far away at this point).
Until then, I've at least made all my photo uploads public on my facebook account for anyone to browse through. Enjoy!
-Oddball
PCT 2012 Part 1: Campo to Devil's Slide (San Jacinto)
PCT 2012 Part 2: Devil's Slide to Agua Dulce
PCT 2012 Part 3: Agua Dulce to Walker Pass/Camp Whitsett
PCT 2012 Part 4: Walker Pass/Camp Whitsett to Kearsarge Pass
PCT 2012 Part 5: Kearsarge Pass to Mammoth Lakes
PCT 2012 Part 6: Mammoth Lakes to Sonora Pass
PCT 2012 Part 7: The Rest of California!
PCT 2012 Part 8: Oregon
PCT 2012 Part 9: Washington
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Goodbye California, Hello Oregon!
At some point during a long-distance hike one's admiration for nature and awestruck eyes become somewhat numb to almost everything. Not only is this an indication of how long one has been immersed in thick forest, it is also an indication of how many miles one does on an average day. The mere pronouncement of "five miles" normally doesn't draw much from the mind; we normally associate it with a five minute drive on the highway. Thru-hiking is done without cars though and there are only so many hours in the day to work with. A hiker that is in good shape can easily do twenty miles before five in the afternoon; and this will include a nice lunch break, ample time to turn one's head for views, and the ability to take a picture whenever the opportunity arises. Twenty-five miles, just five more miles, becomes a whole new beast. Unlike the quick drive that is forever ingrained in our minds when thinking about distance, five more miles for a hiker means two more hours. Finishing the day by seven in the evening doesn't sound so bad, but if the terrain gets the best of a thru-hiker's feet then seven quickly becomes eight. Then there's also thirty-mile days but I'll leave those for the time being to your own imagination.
In addition to the limited amount of time in any given day and the limited amount of a abuse one's feet can take each day on a thru-hike, there's the cruelty only a thick forest can produce. At times some amazing views will dart in front of one's eyes and these views offer periodic breaks from trail induced madness. A lack of regular views of something spectacular, or at least something different, often place one in a condition of watch-checking and mileage-counting. This can be a dangerous thing to think about too often and I try my best to force myself to think about something; anything that can break the monotony. A break usually ends with myself looking at where my next water source is at and then thinking to myself "hmmm... seven more miles, that's two and a half hours. I just need to think about six or seven different things." It becomes a time of self-reflection. I sometimes argue with myself, I find myself filled with regret from my past, disgust from wrongful actions I've taken, I think about what I've done with my life, I recall random acts of kindness, I think about friends that no longer walk this Earth, I think about where I might go to work on a masters degree, I think about how grateful I am that I'm not still dating this or that person, I try to calculate the cheapest way to keep my truck running for another year or two when I'm done with this hike, sometimes I just flat out work out long division that relates to miles to water or to a known point every few minutes--I'm 1/36th of the way there, I just have to do this 35 more times... I'm 1/18th of the way there... and so on and so forth.
This awkwardly essential task of keeping one's mind busy isn't always necessary though. After leaving Dunsmuir, the forest thinned out somewhat and a distant Shasta returned into view--still generously coated with snow in mid-July. In this same area is Castle Craggs, a mountain range that looks like a fortress where giants from an H.P. Lovecraft novel must have made theirselves at home and tossed large boulders down upon their enemies. These giants are long gone, but their boulders are still scatted along the trail and their fortress still stands and rarely fails to impress my eyes. This area is also riddled with numerous lakes, each perfect whenever one is both willing and able to hike off-trail for half a mile to a mile at the end of the day. When I went through I had no reservations descending down for a mile and several hundred feet down to enjoy Upper Seven, Bull, Big Marshy, and Statue Lakes. These lakes are full of all sorts of fish that absolutely love jumping out of the water to eat unsuspecting mosquitoes. These fish and I got along splendidly whenever I settled down to camp near their homes. Statue Lake, like the other three, is also off trail, and well worth the visit. It rests just behind Statue Mountain, home to a famous naturally occurring statue that resembles a short and corpulent little Batman. The statue (along with it's less interesting friends) is quite a treat when one can view it from its front and rear in the same day.
After finishing this wilderness area I hitched into Etna--the friendliest town thus far on the Pacific Crest Trail. The farther south in California one is, the more awkward and uncomfortable hitch-hiking can be. People will find any excuse to look away; they often will stare with expressions of disgust; they may accelerate when passing one by; and sometimes they may just flat out gaze at you with raised shoulders, flailing arms, and an unusual expression of rage. Do this long enough and eventually a kind soul will offer one a ride. Going into Etna, this little ritual was not necessary. I was passed by three cars going the opposite direction on a rarely traveled road, each car's occupants smiled and waved. When a car did drive my way, I was instantly picked up, and my brain picked by a cheerful mother, son, and several curious dogs (their poor little noses must have been in overdrive mode). In Etna I took the remainder of a short-mileage day off and enjoyed each and every one of my little trips. It didn't matter where I was--at the hostel, the brewery, the grocery store, one of Etna's delicious dinners--each and every person I met was extremely friendly. Most people who come across PCT thru-hikers mistake us for homeless degenerates or just poor fellows down on their luck. The residents of Enta know who we are and absolutely love us. It felt great. When I needed to hitch out of the town I thought my hitch wasn't going to happen anytime soon--Reststop, Dude, Viper, Not a Chance, and the Croatian Sensation all were hitching when I was. Instead of our mass becoming an impossible hitch it become one of the most suspiring. City employees drove by us in a work truck and said they'd come back with a van. All of us got a ride in a matter of minutes via the City of Etna's Police Activities League van. It's almost like I wasn't in California any more and in some state called Jefferson.
It's amazing what even a short stop in a friendly town can do. Etna was refreshing and the remainer of California felt like it went by entirely too fast--Razor Ridge, Fisher Lake, Marten Lake, Marble Valley and Mountain Grider Creek, and Seiad Valley. The trail alternated between quick climbs and quick descents, between dry and cool, between rocky exposed sections and pine needle-laden trail below shady canopy. What a relief, especially Marble Mountain, with its rich mixture of red volcanic colors and green ferns, it felt like Christmas in July. The thought of being so close to Seiad Valley was another morale booster as well. This little town is much more proud of its Jefferson State heritage than Etna. In Etna I didn't realize I was there until I read it on my bottle of beer. In Seiad it is posted on CalTrans signs, on the Post Office, on the trash truck, on the local diner, and in all other sorts of seemingly random places. It's technically part of California, but its unique disposition always makes it exciting to visit. My stomach was eternally grateful for the opportunity to swallow copious amounts of food at the local diner as well.
The final few miles of California went by quickly. It's almost 1700 miles from the California-Mexico border to the California-Oregon border. The mileage alone is in itself quite an accomplishment. It's also a very meaningful milestone because the most difficult and largest section is over. We only have two states remaining and they are going to feel like cake compared to California--they're smaller, they're cooler, and at this point I couldn't be in better physical shape than I am now. Arriving at the border was a sweet moment and one in which I had no qualms carrying a little extra liquid weight from Seiad Valley to, so I could celebrate with friends. Oregon already feels much cooler and the elevation profile for this state is exciting my knees, they should be getting a nice 457-mile break from endless climbing and descending.
One state down, two to go. Time to conquer Oregon.
In addition to the limited amount of time in any given day and the limited amount of a abuse one's feet can take each day on a thru-hike, there's the cruelty only a thick forest can produce. At times some amazing views will dart in front of one's eyes and these views offer periodic breaks from trail induced madness. A lack of regular views of something spectacular, or at least something different, often place one in a condition of watch-checking and mileage-counting. This can be a dangerous thing to think about too often and I try my best to force myself to think about something; anything that can break the monotony. A break usually ends with myself looking at where my next water source is at and then thinking to myself "hmmm... seven more miles, that's two and a half hours. I just need to think about six or seven different things." It becomes a time of self-reflection. I sometimes argue with myself, I find myself filled with regret from my past, disgust from wrongful actions I've taken, I think about what I've done with my life, I recall random acts of kindness, I think about friends that no longer walk this Earth, I think about where I might go to work on a masters degree, I think about how grateful I am that I'm not still dating this or that person, I try to calculate the cheapest way to keep my truck running for another year or two when I'm done with this hike, sometimes I just flat out work out long division that relates to miles to water or to a known point every few minutes--I'm 1/36th of the way there, I just have to do this 35 more times... I'm 1/18th of the way there... and so on and so forth.
This awkwardly essential task of keeping one's mind busy isn't always necessary though. After leaving Dunsmuir, the forest thinned out somewhat and a distant Shasta returned into view--still generously coated with snow in mid-July. In this same area is Castle Craggs, a mountain range that looks like a fortress where giants from an H.P. Lovecraft novel must have made theirselves at home and tossed large boulders down upon their enemies. These giants are long gone, but their boulders are still scatted along the trail and their fortress still stands and rarely fails to impress my eyes. This area is also riddled with numerous lakes, each perfect whenever one is both willing and able to hike off-trail for half a mile to a mile at the end of the day. When I went through I had no reservations descending down for a mile and several hundred feet down to enjoy Upper Seven, Bull, Big Marshy, and Statue Lakes. These lakes are full of all sorts of fish that absolutely love jumping out of the water to eat unsuspecting mosquitoes. These fish and I got along splendidly whenever I settled down to camp near their homes. Statue Lake, like the other three, is also off trail, and well worth the visit. It rests just behind Statue Mountain, home to a famous naturally occurring statue that resembles a short and corpulent little Batman. The statue (along with it's less interesting friends) is quite a treat when one can view it from its front and rear in the same day.
After finishing this wilderness area I hitched into Etna--the friendliest town thus far on the Pacific Crest Trail. The farther south in California one is, the more awkward and uncomfortable hitch-hiking can be. People will find any excuse to look away; they often will stare with expressions of disgust; they may accelerate when passing one by; and sometimes they may just flat out gaze at you with raised shoulders, flailing arms, and an unusual expression of rage. Do this long enough and eventually a kind soul will offer one a ride. Going into Etna, this little ritual was not necessary. I was passed by three cars going the opposite direction on a rarely traveled road, each car's occupants smiled and waved. When a car did drive my way, I was instantly picked up, and my brain picked by a cheerful mother, son, and several curious dogs (their poor little noses must have been in overdrive mode). In Etna I took the remainder of a short-mileage day off and enjoyed each and every one of my little trips. It didn't matter where I was--at the hostel, the brewery, the grocery store, one of Etna's delicious dinners--each and every person I met was extremely friendly. Most people who come across PCT thru-hikers mistake us for homeless degenerates or just poor fellows down on their luck. The residents of Enta know who we are and absolutely love us. It felt great. When I needed to hitch out of the town I thought my hitch wasn't going to happen anytime soon--Reststop, Dude, Viper, Not a Chance, and the Croatian Sensation all were hitching when I was. Instead of our mass becoming an impossible hitch it become one of the most suspiring. City employees drove by us in a work truck and said they'd come back with a van. All of us got a ride in a matter of minutes via the City of Etna's Police Activities League van. It's almost like I wasn't in California any more and in some state called Jefferson.
It's amazing what even a short stop in a friendly town can do. Etna was refreshing and the remainer of California felt like it went by entirely too fast--Razor Ridge, Fisher Lake, Marten Lake, Marble Valley and Mountain Grider Creek, and Seiad Valley. The trail alternated between quick climbs and quick descents, between dry and cool, between rocky exposed sections and pine needle-laden trail below shady canopy. What a relief, especially Marble Mountain, with its rich mixture of red volcanic colors and green ferns, it felt like Christmas in July. The thought of being so close to Seiad Valley was another morale booster as well. This little town is much more proud of its Jefferson State heritage than Etna. In Etna I didn't realize I was there until I read it on my bottle of beer. In Seiad it is posted on CalTrans signs, on the Post Office, on the trash truck, on the local diner, and in all other sorts of seemingly random places. It's technically part of California, but its unique disposition always makes it exciting to visit. My stomach was eternally grateful for the opportunity to swallow copious amounts of food at the local diner as well.
The final few miles of California went by quickly. It's almost 1700 miles from the California-Mexico border to the California-Oregon border. The mileage alone is in itself quite an accomplishment. It's also a very meaningful milestone because the most difficult and largest section is over. We only have two states remaining and they are going to feel like cake compared to California--they're smaller, they're cooler, and at this point I couldn't be in better physical shape than I am now. Arriving at the border was a sweet moment and one in which I had no qualms carrying a little extra liquid weight from Seiad Valley to, so I could celebrate with friends. Oregon already feels much cooler and the elevation profile for this state is exciting my knees, they should be getting a nice 457-mile break from endless climbing and descending.
One state down, two to go. Time to conquer Oregon.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Belden to Dunsmuir
Ah yes, Northern California, the shortest of the three main sections of California, but contrary to popular thru-hiker belief, not nearly as flat as expected. The climb out of Belden is burnt, dry, and exposed, and will bake you like a casserole in the afternoon heat. This is why it's best hiked after copious amounts of Ice cream and cold drinks from Belden town resort, where I stayed until 7pm the day Straps got off trail and I continued on.
Hiking out of Belden, it's a short 40 miles to Chester where I got off trail to resupply from the grocery store there. Each time I walk into a store nowadays, the stares from the other customers get increasingly hilarious, at least from my perspective. What isn't funny is having to figure out what I want to eat for four days while immersed in a sea of food, most of which I can't buy because it's too heavy. Sure, I'd love to eat a broiler chicken with a side of grilled veggies tomorrow night, but unless they find some way to dehydrate that into something less resembling artificially flavored cardboard, it's just not in the cards. Oh well. Ramen? Check. Instant mashed potatoes? Check. Whole package of Oreos that'll be good for, oh, two days? Double check.
From Chester it was only one day to Drakesbad resort where the owners kindly let hikers use the laundry and showers, as well as giving us discounted meals from the restaurant there. At this point, the trail is going right through Lassen national park. What's in this park? Oh, not much, only boiling lakes and steam-spewing geysers! Awesome. Super awesome. Out of Drakesbad smelling a little better, it was only hours before I once again was soaked in sweat from the repeating climbs and treeless stretches. Although, it was only 20 miles and the town of Old Station appeared through the trees promising a shop with ice cream, cold soda, and snacks of all flav...WHAT?! The store is closed? Queue Episode 3 Darth Vader when he learns of Padmé's death: NNNNOOOOOOOOO!!! At that point, Occupy Old Station store patio was in full effect in protest of this absurd unavailability of ice cream. There were about 10 hikers who all were hoping for the same thing, so everyone sat there, cooking their food, me included, as discussion about what we could have been eating slowly evolved into how far a walk it was to the other store. 2 miles? Well that's just absurd, who would want to walk that far anyway?
Onto the next section which included Hat Creek Rim, a ridge walk around a lava field and 30 miles of waterless, thin forest. Alright! I needed a new challenge. But myself and those I was hiking with were rewarded for our efforts two days later with ice cream and cheap camping at Burney State Park. Over the next few days, the trail meandered through densely forested areas where logging was still very popular and signs everywhere warned hikers of heavy equipment operating nearby. I made eye contact with a rather large black bear st one point and was glad when he opted to run for his life versus me, afterall it's hard to run with a pack on anyway. The rest of the walk into Dunsmuir was fairly uneventful, save for another bear sighting, this time a cub and its mother. I stayed back a ways upon spotting them, as one of the few things I know about bears is that they will do drastic things to protect their young, and I didn't want to be a part of one of those drastic things.
Stay tuned for Dunsmuir to Ashland. That's Ashland, Oregon. Oh yeah, California is quickly becoming yesterday's news. Now, Where can a guy get some ice cream around here?!
-Copernicus
Update: Oddball just crossed the border into Oregon, Copernicus is leaving Etna today and will cross the border on August 31.
Straps and Copernicus
Looking back across the Feather River at Belden Town
Hiking out of Belden, it's a short 40 miles to Chester where I got off trail to resupply from the grocery store there. Each time I walk into a store nowadays, the stares from the other customers get increasingly hilarious, at least from my perspective. What isn't funny is having to figure out what I want to eat for four days while immersed in a sea of food, most of which I can't buy because it's too heavy. Sure, I'd love to eat a broiler chicken with a side of grilled veggies tomorrow night, but unless they find some way to dehydrate that into something less resembling artificially flavored cardboard, it's just not in the cards. Oh well. Ramen? Check. Instant mashed potatoes? Check. Whole package of Oreos that'll be good for, oh, two days? Double check.
Mount Lassen (sideways)
From Chester it was only one day to Drakesbad resort where the owners kindly let hikers use the laundry and showers, as well as giving us discounted meals from the restaurant there. At this point, the trail is going right through Lassen national park. What's in this park? Oh, not much, only boiling lakes and steam-spewing geysers! Awesome. Super awesome. Out of Drakesbad smelling a little better, it was only hours before I once again was soaked in sweat from the repeating climbs and treeless stretches. Although, it was only 20 miles and the town of Old Station appeared through the trees promising a shop with ice cream, cold soda, and snacks of all flav...WHAT?! The store is closed? Queue Episode 3 Darth Vader when he learns of Padmé's death: NNNNOOOOOOOOO!!! At that point, Occupy Old Station store patio was in full effect in protest of this absurd unavailability of ice cream. There were about 10 hikers who all were hoping for the same thing, so everyone sat there, cooking their food, me included, as discussion about what we could have been eating slowly evolved into how far a walk it was to the other store. 2 miles? Well that's just absurd, who would want to walk that far anyway?
Terminal Geyser in Lassen State Park
Boiling Lake (literally, you can see it boiling in the middle)
Looking northward at Hat Creek Rim (trail is on top of the plateau)
What happens if you don't carry enough water over the Hat Creek Rim
Stay tuned for Dunsmuir to Ashland. That's Ashland, Oregon. Oh yeah, California is quickly becoming yesterday's news. Now, Where can a guy get some ice cream around here?!
-Copernicus
Update: Oddball just crossed the border into Oregon, Copernicus is leaving Etna today and will cross the border on August 31.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Finally, an Update!
Greetings from the PCT!
I know it's been quite a while since posting anything new, however, I have little to no excuse as to why. All I can say is that our latest town stops/resupply stops haven't been very conducive to writing 10 page trail sagas. Therefore, in an effort to keep this blog alive and functioning, the posts from here on out may be slightly shorter and summarized. Also, there will be a succession of past-dated entries appearing soon that will cover the last 500 miles. So, if you're still following us, be prepared to do a bit of reading!
Now it's time for a brief back story. After Oddball and I climbed over Duck Pass down to Mammoth Lakes for a resupply, I took the next few days to rent a car and drive down to Santa Barbara for my girlfriend Erin's graduation ceremony. It was a big surprise for her, and the entire weekend was fantastic. I didn't spend too much time thinking about the trail, but there were instances where I felt a bit strange knowing I was in the middle of hiking through the Sierras and would be back to hiking when the weekend was over. This little hiatus also meant that I'd be spending the next week trying to catch up with Oddball, as well as make it to South Lake Tahoe on time to meet up with my Erin, my brother Ryan and his girlfriend Calisa. The plan was for my brother Ryan to join me on the trail from Echo Pass (mile 1092.9) to Belden (mile 1289.3). Once at South Lake Tahoe, the four of us camped at beautiful Fallen Leaf Lake in South shore as I recovered from my six day sprint from Tuolumne (details coming). Ryan (now know as Straps) and I set off on June 28th from Echo Pass on Highway 50 (to the sound of highland bagpipes, courtesy of my good friend and piper Sean Cummings), and headed into Desolation Wilderness. We spent the next three and a half days traversing high ridges with grand views of Desolation, racing through mosquito-filled valleys and walked onto Highway 40 at Donner pass on July 1st.
Throughout this section one can see the powerful erosive effects of glacial movements as well as evidence of some volcanic activity, both of which contributed to the rugged beauty of the area millions of years ago. There were many, many small, winged vampires that constantly chased us around from Desolation to Granite Chief, however we escaped with only a few thousand bites each. Once at Donner Pass, a good family friend offered to put us up while we rested, did town chores, and I attempted to locate a misplaced resupply package. The package was found, the zero day was well worth it, and we were back on the trail on July 3rd to start the section to Sierra City. I can't say I'm not enjoying the slower pace as Straps builds up his trail legs; he is putting in more miles than I did my first week, go Straps!
So that brings us up to date. Straps is getting off trail at Belden and headed back to the "real world." He was a wise man and decided to keep his job! Oddball is about 2 days ahead of me, but I imagine I'll catch up before we complete California. Afterall, finally completing this state is an accomplishment worth sharing!
Like I stated previously, I will be posting entries later that cover the sections between Kennedy Meadows and South Lake Tahoe. The ongoing efforts by myself and Oddball to raise money for the Wounded Warrior Project have proven successful, as we broke the $1000 mark last month! We are still looking for donations in hopes to raise another $1000 this month. Remember, every donation is tax-deductible, so please consider contributing to this group, as they provide a valuable service to returning veterans.
Lastly, I hope everyone had a safe and fun Independence Day! Straps and I were treated to a barbecue dinner at a campground near Jackson Meadows Reservoir. The kindness of strangers continues to amaze me and I keep looking forward to meeting new people along the trail because of it.
-Copernicus.
I know it's been quite a while since posting anything new, however, I have little to no excuse as to why. All I can say is that our latest town stops/resupply stops haven't been very conducive to writing 10 page trail sagas. Therefore, in an effort to keep this blog alive and functioning, the posts from here on out may be slightly shorter and summarized. Also, there will be a succession of past-dated entries appearing soon that will cover the last 500 miles. So, if you're still following us, be prepared to do a bit of reading!
Lake Aloha: a little slanted.
Now it's time for a brief back story. After Oddball and I climbed over Duck Pass down to Mammoth Lakes for a resupply, I took the next few days to rent a car and drive down to Santa Barbara for my girlfriend Erin's graduation ceremony. It was a big surprise for her, and the entire weekend was fantastic. I didn't spend too much time thinking about the trail, but there were instances where I felt a bit strange knowing I was in the middle of hiking through the Sierras and would be back to hiking when the weekend was over. This little hiatus also meant that I'd be spending the next week trying to catch up with Oddball, as well as make it to South Lake Tahoe on time to meet up with my Erin, my brother Ryan and his girlfriend Calisa. The plan was for my brother Ryan to join me on the trail from Echo Pass (mile 1092.9) to Belden (mile 1289.3). Once at South Lake Tahoe, the four of us camped at beautiful Fallen Leaf Lake in South shore as I recovered from my six day sprint from Tuolumne (details coming). Ryan (now know as Straps) and I set off on June 28th from Echo Pass on Highway 50 (to the sound of highland bagpipes, courtesy of my good friend and piper Sean Cummings), and headed into Desolation Wilderness. We spent the next three and a half days traversing high ridges with grand views of Desolation, racing through mosquito-filled valleys and walked onto Highway 40 at Donner pass on July 1st.
Throughout this section one can see the powerful erosive effects of glacial movements as well as evidence of some volcanic activity, both of which contributed to the rugged beauty of the area millions of years ago. There were many, many small, winged vampires that constantly chased us around from Desolation to Granite Chief, however we escaped with only a few thousand bites each. Once at Donner Pass, a good family friend offered to put us up while we rested, did town chores, and I attempted to locate a misplaced resupply package. The package was found, the zero day was well worth it, and we were back on the trail on July 3rd to start the section to Sierra City. I can't say I'm not enjoying the slower pace as Straps builds up his trail legs; he is putting in more miles than I did my first week, go Straps!
So that brings us up to date. Straps is getting off trail at Belden and headed back to the "real world." He was a wise man and decided to keep his job! Oddball is about 2 days ahead of me, but I imagine I'll catch up before we complete California. Afterall, finally completing this state is an accomplishment worth sharing!
Like I stated previously, I will be posting entries later that cover the sections between Kennedy Meadows and South Lake Tahoe. The ongoing efforts by myself and Oddball to raise money for the Wounded Warrior Project have proven successful, as we broke the $1000 mark last month! We are still looking for donations in hopes to raise another $1000 this month. Remember, every donation is tax-deductible, so please consider contributing to this group, as they provide a valuable service to returning veterans.
Lastly, I hope everyone had a safe and fun Independence Day! Straps and I were treated to a barbecue dinner at a campground near Jackson Meadows Reservoir. The kindness of strangers continues to amaze me and I keep looking forward to meeting new people along the trail because of it.
-Copernicus.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Tall Mountains, High Winds, Infernal Deserts, Face-Slamming Ice, and Big Miles
To backpack from the Mexico-California border to Wrightwood
(369.6 miles) it took us thirty-four days. To backpack from Wrightwood to
Kennedy Meadows (332.5 miles) it took us 23 days. At first glance this
might not seem like much; a mere eleven days quicker for what would be a
roughly six hour drive on the highway for a right-lane driving traveler.
To a Pacific Crest Trail hiker, this difference in mileage means one thing: Big
Miles. Our first day out of Wrightwood we managed 14.5 miles, but
yesterday, we managed a monstrous 25 miles. Our bodies have finally
adjusted to the rigors and demands of thru-hiking, and with them, so have our
appetites.
Despite the seemingly low mileage, our first day in this
long section was by no means an easy one. We hiked a few miles to Vincent
Gap and from there summited Mt Baden Powell, which brought us up about three
thousand feet in less than four miles to an elevation of 9359ft. Baden
Powell’s switchbacks were available for most of the ascent but we did have the
fun of moving over ice and snow for the last quarter-mile. Going up Baden
Powell on a weekend also gave us the unique experience of hiking a popular day-hike
with day hikers and I must say—there is a certain kind of satisfaction that one
gets from doing an extremely difficult hike with a backpack containing enough
equipment and supplies to backpack for a week and still be able to pass every
day hiker along the way. After Baden Powell, and after all the day hikers
went their separate ways, we continued on to Little Jimmy campground. This little bit of bravado came with both
benefits and costs—pedial pangs and an amazing sense of satisfaction.
The PCT hiker that comes up must come down. The
following day we had to lose most of the elevation we gained ascending Baden
Powell, immediately regain it by nearly summiting Mt. Williamson to the north,
and then embarking upon a knee-breaking drop—a couple of thousand feet down, a
couple of thousand feet back up, rinse thoroughly and repeat. This day
ended where the trail’s water source let us, Camp Glennwood, a Boy Scout camp
with no Boy Scouts in sight. We greatly appreciate there being water here
and the fact that the Scouts allow PCT hikers to access their water. It’s
a shame that in this is wonderful little wooded area that other travelers here feel
the need to shoot their firearms at the Boy Scout’s building, picnic tables,
and ovens.
Enter the Poodle-dog Bush. The 2009 California
Station fire left vast tracks of forest in the Angeles National Forest areas
burnt to a crisp and a pesky little turricula has had no qualms taking
over large swaths of these burn areas. The plant looks and smells like
marijuana in its early stages but there are no redeeming medical attributes to
it. Older plants take on an innocent baby Joshua Tree-like
appearance, but do not reach to the heavens. The tops of many of these
plants look like the heads of the Instant Martians that tormented both Bugs
Bunny and Duck Dodgers, but there is little to laugh about when traversing
these little nuisances. Poodle-dog Bush’s stalks and leaves contain tiny
needles, and its leaves and flowers contain a lovely and easy to spread
oil. Either can produce a rash that’s worse than poison oak. On top
of all this, Poodle-dog Bush is unavoidable on the PCT. We went through
this section, the worst of which was on Mt. Gleason, slower than we traveled
through Mt. San Jacinto after the big snow storm. Its presence evoked all
sorts of foul and defamatory language, and initially caused us to hike more
carefully than we ever hiked before. Eventually the density of this damn plant
caused us to give up on negotiating a neat little path around each patch and we
opted to partake in some Poodle-dog Bush destruction. We shoved the
bottoms of our feet over the bottom of the stalks of these plants and we broke
their little Poodle-dog necks without mercy. I found myself so upset that
I often caught myself trampling and breaking these plants even when it was
unnecessary. Each such occasion was complete with a revelation of both
futility and superfluity, and then a slight sense of remorse in the lingering
and unneeded destruction we were creating. The end of this day began our
acquaintance with three other thru-hikers—Rubs, Southern, and Lucky Nalgene—who
had also just gone through the Poodle-dog Bush madness. I suspect that
thru-hiker comradery aside, our common foe that day made us all instant
friends.
Mt Gleason wasn’t the last of our Poodle-dog Bush
encounters, but it was at least the end of the Poodle-dog nightmares.
From here we were able to make better mileage and hike with appreciation for
nature instead of frustration. We also
hiked past a section where some mechanical Poodle-dog Bush massacres had
occurred. The stalks were very obviously
chopped in a uniform and violent fashion that left miles of trail after the
Messenger Flats area free of the plant.
We cheered. When we camped at the North Fork Saddle Ranger
Station, we met Ranger Todd, an awesome individual who left water caches out
for thirsty hikers. He also had some bad news for us: a Poodle-dog Bush
rash could take anywhere between two hours and ten days to manifest
itself. Great. The following day after the ranger station, we
decided to indulge ourselves. We camped at the KOA campground outside of
Action, California. Here we bumped into some of our old trail neighbors,
Twist and Tailgate, as well as Dreamlaugher. At the KOA for five bucks a
piece we all indulged in showers (and a little creative in-shower
laundry). Here there was also relatively
easy access to beer and take-out from a local restaurant, and a whole lot of
hiker chat.
Tucked away in a little known part of Los Angeles County is
the quiet community of Agua Dulce. The
Pacific Crest trail after winding through Vazquez Rocks County Park pours
directly into this town, specifically on Agua Dulce Canyon Road. One can experience downtown Agua Dulce in its
entirety in a matter of hours and for a PCT hiker and every restaurant offers a
generous hiker-discount. Travel down the
boulevard, take a right on Darling Road, and in about a mile or so a thru-hiker
will find the home of two amazing people—Jeff and Donna Saufley. Copernicus departed early to spend some time
with his girlfriend, but I stayed and loved every minute of my nero and zero
days.
Staying with the Saufleys is a magnificent treat and
heartening reminder that there are people in this world who enjoy being
benevolent for the sake of benevolence.
Here Donna does everyone’s laundry and when she is unable, a past
thru-hiker with an omni-present smile (and extremely tight hugs) named Sugar
Mama lends her hands into the laundry-room brawl with some of the most putrid
and filthiest clothing known to man. The
Saufleys also have a trailer for hiker use which has a shower, bathroom,
kitchen, couch, television, a large collection of movies, and plenty of cozy
areas to crash, slouch, and lay upon.
Around this homely property there are also as many chairs as there are
dogs (there are a lot of happy dogs running around this place) and a large
collection of white tents complete with cots that were erected and set by the
Wolverines (a rough and roving band of generous trail angel labor) just before
we left to continue our hike. If there
was anything a hiker needed that wasn’t in this little Hiker Heaven, the
Saufley’s also had a small fleet of bicycles that I and many others had no
reservations about making use for; Agua Dulce was a town that was very good to
our stomachs.
I don’t recall the television ever being turned on while I
was there. The environment was so
perfect for hiker-trash socializing, drinking, and toasty evening campfires
that the television seemed to receive absolutely no loving. The environment also provides for an
opportunity to talk in greater length with our trail neighbors. Our first day in we met up with Twist,
Tailgate, Rubs, Southern, Lucky Nalgene, and Dreamlaugher. The topics that arise during zero day conversations
rarely change (food, gear, food, the trail, food, and excrement. However, every so often the combination of a
place like the Saufleys, staying up after seven or eight in the evening (hiker
midnight), a few beers, and a toasty campfire will produce discussions about
why we’re hiking. Thru-hikers are all
crazy.
Leaving the Saufleys wasn’t easy, and the weather and
terrain weren’t particularly kind to us.
We hiked a tough 17.2 miles over a number of manzanita and lilac covered
hills with few opportunities for shade (albeit we took advantage of every
shaded chance to stop) to a water source we planned on being dry—the Anderson’s
Hiker Oasis. While carrying our five
liter water insurance wasn’t pleasant, the presence of a well-stocked cache was
a blissful experience. Here we enjoyed a
small beer cache and drank an extra liter of water without worrying about
depleting our own supplies too soon.
This cache was also the most colorful and playful one to date, it was
complete with a amble quantity of lawn chairs and old Halloween
decorations. Who doesn’t like hydrating
in the presence of Dr. Victor Frankenstein’s monster?
The following day we made a mid-day stop at the Green
Valley Ranger station where we hitched a ride to Joe and Terrie Anderson’s
home, also known as “Casa de Luna,” for a little bit of hippie daycare while
waiting out the afternoon heat. The
Andersons spoiled us with shade, beer, and a very filling lunch of grilled
chicken, hotdogs, and potato salad.
Before departing we signed the banner and posed for a picture with all
the other hikers present, complete with a full moon from Terrie just before Joe
snapped our group portrait. Joe took us
back to the trail and we continued on through similar terrain as the day before,
with the exception that a lovely and cool breeze kept us company until we
reached another water cache.
We took our mileage up a few notches and returned to a
wooded area with plenty of shady oak trees.
Our water sources today became guzzlers.
This type of water source is normally used for forest fires by CDF and
the USFS. These concrete slabs collect
rain water, pine needles, and a very unusual flavor that even filtering could
not remove. Tang and Swiss Miss packets
aided in helping us swallow down this yellow-hued foul-tasting liquid. That evening we camped at Bear Campground, a
campground with neither bears nor flat areas suitable for a comfortable night’s
sleeping. The area was littered with
glass and bullet casings of various calibers, and was torn apart by constant
SUV and ATV use. When one is tired
enough though, almost any place will do just fine.
From Bear Campground it was a hot but easy 13.6 miles to
the Mojave Desert and Hikertown.
Hikertown is an unusual but welcome sight. The front yard of this home is decorated with
an old west theme complete with buildings for a miniature barber shop, post
office, dry goods store, city hall, church, bottle store, and so on. For a small donation we secured for ourselves
comfy little trailers, home cooked meals, and a room with a generous amount of
shade, couches, and most importantly, a shower.
Here we met up with Rubs, Southern, and Lucky Nalgene again as well as
the Colonel, Clay, and Running Wolf.
Much to my surprise, Running Wolf, who also hiked in 2010 remembered me
and just about every little bit of information I shared with him when we met
last at McIver’s Cabin. The man has the
memory of a bartender. All of us were
able to borrow a vehicle and get a ride into a local store in Lancaster as
well.
It’s a strange experience riding in a vehicle when one has
been walking everywhere for so long.
Fifty-five miles an hour down a highway for a few minutes feels like a
dangerous and uncontrollable speed that calls to mind memories of The Gods Must be Crazy. Now, if only a single empty glass cola bottle
descended to the earth, we might have very well carried it further into the
Mojave to rid our mobile hiker neighborhood of it. The small little country store was
amazing—salty chips, fatty ice cream, and cold beverages. All of us guiltlessly devoured our purchases
on the spot.
Most of the Hikertown crowd left that night to make a dent
in the scorching and shade free Mojave walk, which should be more appropriately
called the aqueduct walk and water tease because the section rarely leaves the
well-covered and secured Los Angeles Aqueduct.
There’s nothing like being hot and having an inaccessible man-made river
below one’s feet. Here we pulled off a
monstrous 23 mile hike to arrive at Tyler Horse Canyon with its cold and crisp
water. The Canyon, despite being windy,
was a perfect area to camp at. Not but
an hour into my slumber though, I awoke to Copernicus shining his light into a
bushy area up the canyon and yelling out “hey! get out of here.” I quickly arose, half dressed, and adding my
own headlamp’s light to the area and could only make out a faint shadow and a
pair of eyes. The eyes were low at first
and then ascended slightly when all of our light became directed at it. Wonderful, they were at about the height of a
mountain lion’s. Then the eyes climbed
again to an even greater height and the animal’s shadowy outline became more
apparent. It was a damn cow. My thoughts instantly circled around the
possibility of this intruder bringing multiple friends to the creek for a
drink, leaving their entrails everywhere, and possibility crowding us out. Lucky for us our bovine visitor and all of
her friends opted to retreat up and over the canyon.
We had a glorious and ambitious goal of hiking twenty-five
miles to Highway 58 and hitching into Tehachapi the following day. One can easily hitch a ride from Tehachapi-Willow
Springs Road several miles before the highway; however such a choice would
leave us with twenty-five miles with no on trail water in another sweltering
section complete with a large climb to the next water source. After navigating our way through the numerous
hills just prior to Tehachapi though, our resolve blew away with the high winds
produced by the Tehachapi area that wind farmers love and PCT hikers hate. At their peak, these winds approached speeds
of nearly fifty miles per hour. Hiking
with the a nice breeze to one’s face is always a wonderful condition to hike in
but these winds felt like we were fighting linebackers all the way until the
road. We caved in and it took very
little convincing on either of our either of our parts to hitch in early and
enjoy a long nero and a full zero in Tehachapi.
Tehachapi was a nice stop.
We found our trail neighbors—Rubs, Southern, Lucky Nalgene, the Colonel,
and Running Wolf—staying at the same hotel we hitched a ride to and they seemed
just as exhausted and annoyed with the high winds as we did. Like the Poodle-dog fiasco we seemed to be
once again united by a common foe (not to mention our similar level of
appreciation for the aqueduct walk).
Tehachapi is a very welcoming and well-stocked town that is
unfortunately very spread out. The hotel
we stayed at rented bikes and this made traveling to the Post Office, the local
grocery store, and other locations a little easier. Nonetheless, being in town can also be an
awkward reminder of how finite time is when in towns resupplying. The competing needs to do so much in
town—calling friends and loved ones, run errands, unpacking and repacking,
stuffing our faces silly with fatty and high carb foods at delicious cafes and
restaurants, filling out postcards, and the desire to simply rest and do
nothing—make the time fly by and there’s always something that time simply does
not allow, like updating our blog or finishing a good book. In my case, not finishing the books I packed
into my resupply packages has slowly become something of a burden. Combined with my PCT Data Book, my journal,
my pocket dictionary and thesaurus, when I don’t finish a book or academic
journal I usually end up carrying the old and the new. Pretty soon I suspect I’ll become the
official roaming PCT library.
The next day we set a new record, 24.9 miles. We blazed through the wind and heat up to Highway
58 and became acquainted with some new neighbors—veterans of the AT, Bonelady
and Swiss Cheese, as well as Bucket. We
all hunkered down under a highway overpass a mile or so after the highway crossing,
soaked in the shade and cool air, ate, and conversed. Like all our trail neighbors before, we
instantly took a liking to these folks.
There’s something shared by all thru-hikers that makes sharing time and
trail as effortless as sitting on a comfy couch. In the late afternoon we continued our
journey, climbing over numerous dry hills, and eventually found our way to our
planned stop—Golden Oak Spring, a cool pipe fed spring complete with the chitchat
of several dozens of frogs gossiping the evening away. That evening we also met a usually
mile-intensive Australian thru-hiker named Swami. We felt destroyed after twenty-five miles and
this man is apparently pulling off as many as forty-miles a day and can still
walk into camp at the end of the day with the same stride and energetic face
that he began the day with.
Nothing feels like a slower pace and a shorter day after a
long hike. And when I say slower and
shorter, I mean doing a 19.2 miler after doing a 24.9 miler. Big miles generate satisfaction but they don’t
bode well for the views and for photographs.
While it is still easy to take in some spectacular views and scenery,
especially compared to how much one normally spots while driving, there seems
to be quite a difference between two to two and a half miles per hour and three
to three and a half miles per hour. The former
allows one to turn one’s head more often, it permits brief stops at the tops of
saddles and hilltops, and it makes the air taste and seem richer. The latter demands a higher pulse, more and
deeper breaths, it requires one to wipe sweat off one’s forehead more
frequently, and it typically allows for shorter breaks. This 19.2-miler day wasn’t anything special,
but slowing down made it more so. It is
very fascinating how such small differences in foot-velocity can change a
day.
Towards the end of this day I experienced a rare
day-sighting of a bobcat. At first I
thought it was a dog and was expecting to see its owner poke around the same
corner on the trail. Nope. A split second later the distinct ears and
feline sideburns that only a bobcat has came into recognition. The kitty was too quick for my camera but had
we been moving faster the sounds of our feet would have long ago scared it off.
The next two days brought us back into the desert—the “final”
desert section on the Pacific Crest Trail.
After the first few miles from Robin Bird Spring we enjoyed the last bit
of forest for this portion of Sequoia National Forest and then descended down
to a low and dry Kelso Valley Road.
There’s an interesting mixture of feelings that accompanies the loss of
beautiful sequoias and the gain of… well, not so beautiful yuccas and
joshuas. The demise of our shade is one
thing and the heat is another.
Fortunately for us there was a water cache at this road and we were able
to drink a little extra as we had done at the Anderson’s water cache and there
was a lone cluster of joshuas that offered enough shade for myself, Copernicus,
Bonelady, Swiss Cheese, and Bucket to be able to hide ourselves from the Kelso
Valley Sun Monster until the afternoon cooled off.
The
day did cool off but the wind decided to go Tehachapi
on us at times. On some occasions these
high gusts of winds were very welcomed, they helped propel us over these high
desert sands; but then on others they were like work of the trail devil
himself, denying us passage up another hill or around another spur. Kudos to Bonelady though. I can’t say I have ever seen a female hiker that
was so apt at keeping her skirt down in so much wind. If only we could have been as skilled at
keeping the sand that came with the wind out of our mouths and eyes. The trail itself was also somewhat cruel in
this section and I partially longed for the solid footing we were unknowingly
blessed with on the aqueduct walk. This
section was mostly soft sand atop more soft sand. It’s like walking on a beach, uphill, while
trying to carry a heavy cooler, for hours and hours on end. Soft sand has a wicked way of denying one’s
muscles their full potential. When one
steps hard, one expects resistance from the earth, and those individual
step-by-step fights with the earth make comfortable walking possible. When the earth refuses and offers submission,
one can only curse the sand and push on.
Our reward for all these high winds, soft sands, and tough trails
arrived a couple of days later at McIver’s Spring and Cabin with cowpie
flavored water. Those darn beasts were
probably still upset that we denied them water at Tylerhorse Canyon, pushed on
ahead of us, and then went to town on this water source. Unlike the guzzler water we cured with Tang
and Swiss Miss, no amount of filtering and powered beverage mix seemed able to remove
this flavor.
Adversity makes the rewards on the PCT all the more
enjoyable. Coming down to Walker Pass
proved to be the beginning of one of our favorite nero days. We had planned on working something out with
Erin and Kenyon Hess, who live nearby, but weren’t sure what exactly because
our arrival date was so tentative and their schedules so busy. We didn’t have reception at Walker Pass and
opted to try hitching a ride into Lake Isabella, it took awhile, but even the
hitch turned out to be great. An older couple,
who were both retired from the Forest Service and now work at China Lake,
picked us up. They were more than happy
to take us exactly to the place I wanted to go—Nelda’s Diner—and even offered
us a couple of cold Kona beers from the back of their truck’s ice chest. God bless their souls. Nelda’s is the crown jewel of Lake Isabella,
in this humble hiker’s opinion. Their
food is both amazing in quality and quantity and they have quite the extensive
milkshake menu, one hundred flavors.
Rubs once remarked that ice cream is a food group for hikers. Copernicus and I wholeheartedly agree.
From Nelda’s we were able to get a hold of Kenyon, were
asked if we’d like to stay the night at Camp Whitsett, and within hours Erin,
accompanied by a three-week old Penny came into town and got us. Penny cried for a good portion of the initial
ride but after a lighting-fast changing by Erin in Kernville, I can’t say I’ve
ever seen such a youngster sleep so well in a vehicle that took so many twists
and turns. I wish I could sleep that
well. At Whitsett, we were spoiled. Kenyon allowed us to use one of the staff
cabins—Chief Crazy Horse, the use of the showers, and laundry. Then, as if being clean and with a bed wasn’t
good enough, they offered us one of the finest meals a trail angel has yet to
offer: chicken, tri-tip, potato salad, pasta salad, corn on the cob, dinner
rolls, chips, and beer. All of which by
the by, was cooked extremely well and in such a quantity that even we were not
able to eat everything in sight. The
generosity, the environment, and the spirit of being on a Boy Scout camp made
me reminisce and miss the days when I worked at Mataguay Scout Reservation. It is always nice to be in the company of good
and pleasant people. In the morning
before we left, the camp’s kitchen staff cooked, and we were invited to partake
in a large quantity of camp food and converse briefly with some of the camp’s
directors. Thank you very much Erin and Keyon, and thank you very much Camp
Whitsett.
Sometimes we do manage to surprise ourselves quite a
bit. We weren’t able to get back to the
trail until about noon but we managed to get ourselves up to the first water
source, that was 16.6 miles from the highway to the first crossing of the
Spanish Needle Creek, at about seven in the evening. Damn good mileage. Since that day too, the terrain has been
changing quiet a bit. The desert is long
behind us and the Sierra Nevadas are becoming more and more what most people
expect them to look like. We even managed
to enjoy an awkward quasi-snow storm of sorts on our way to Manter Creek’s PCT
crossing. Cold and high winds that knock
face-slamming ice off pine trees in late May is not typically what one normally
expects, but the change from the desert heat is welcome nonetheless. We also had a surprise catch-up with Rubs,
Southern, and Lucky Nalgene. We just can’t
seem to lose these guys but their company is always welcome. That day we hit a new record—exactly twenty-five
miles in one day. Twenty-five miles
before five in the afternoon, plenty of time to enjoy the last of the sunlight
and the evening, and no Australians to one up us, who in their right mind couldn’t
be happy on this sort of day? With
Southern California almost over and Kennedy Meadows—the gateway to the high
Sierras—so close, the feeling is indescribable.
Goodbye tumultuous and waterless Southern California. Hello Central California, home John Muir’s “Range
of Light.”
Yesterday we arrived at the small community of Kennedy
Meadows and are staying with another trail angel, Thomas Figueroa. Tom is amazing and his generosity seems to
know no limits, it’s always nice to know there’s places and people like this
along the trail. They add to the
experience and they humble us. It also
seems like almost everyone we’ve met along the way is here. It’s time to celebrate, fatten up, sleep,
rest, and prepare for one of the best sections of the Pacific Crest Trail—the Sierras.
-Oddball
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Desert, Mountains, We Hike it All
Cabazon: Land of lizards, snakes, high temperatures, and...dinosaurs? This is where Section C officially starts. One might also say that it starts underneath a freeway, in a dusty tunnel underneath Interstate 10 where the only relief from the hot desert air comes from the shade of the overpass, and a few coolers of cold drinks left by those amazing folks, the PCT trail angels. Technically, we started the day where we left off the night before, on a bumpy road crossing close to the small town of Snow Creek. Our contingent was again three-strong, as Brett decided to join us once again for a stroll through the alluvial plain that emerges from the North face of San Jacinto peak into the Cabazon pass. At this point, following the trail becomes a game of finding the signs, as there are many washouts and other trails crossing the Creosote-filled plain. Reaching the I-10 after a short hour of walking, we came across the infamous "trail-magic" much spoken about on the various forums, mailing lists, and books about the PCT. After consuming some cool beverages (thank you Angels) and signing the register, we continued on. Brett bid us farewell as we continued onward to Cottonwood Canyon. The middle of the day was approaching, and both Oddball and I soon realized that the day was going to be not so inviting for hiking. The temperature was quickly reaching 100 degrees F and we decided the best decision was to retreat for a few hours to another trail angel's house to wait out the heat of the day. It was at Ziggy and the Bears hiker retreat where we met several other hikers doing the same. Ziggy and Bear are two trail angels who formerly lived in Anza and offered their yard and generosity to PCT hikers passing through. They purposefully moved to Cabazon to do the same, and now their backyard is once again a full-on hiker oasis complete with cold drinks, hiker boxes, snacks, and shade. The generosity of these people is amazing, and we thank them for providing a valuable stop on a hot day. Around 3:30pm we continued up Cottonwood Canyon and stopped at the Mesa Wind Farm field office. Here we were greeted by one of the workers who invited us in for some cold water and snacks. We did not decline, as the heat was still stifling and was not going to cool off until the sun set behind the hills. Watered and fed, we rested in the shade a while longer before heading up the canyon, passing the vast array of wind-turbines quickly spinning and generating power from the constant breeze created by the San Gorgonio Pass. Quickly gaining and losing about 1000 ft in elevation, we arrived at Whitewater River near dark and decided to camp at the former Trout Farm which is now a nature preserve. Benadryl was on the menu for me that night, after a generous bee offered up his life and stinger into my index finger before departing the wind farm that day.
After a nights rest, we continued up Whitewater Canyon and crossed the cold waters of Whitewater Creek. I doused myself in the cool waters in anticipation of another warm day. It was shortly after the crossing where we encountered our first official rattlesnake of the trip. Coming around a corner, I looked up just in time to see the four-foot long Red Diamond rattler sunning itself just a foot off the trail. It did not seem startled, as it did not rattle and just slowly crossed over the trail as to say, "Hey guys, don't bother me, and I won't bother you." We took a few pictures and continued up to Mission Creek, which to many is a long, hot slog but to us "desert rats," a welcome section with many great views of steep canyon walls and a constant-flowing creek in which to filter good water. Although the day was long, we were rewarded with a creekside camp in the shade of several large oaks and the first of many pine trees we were to be seeing for the next few days. Twist and Tailgate (formerly Seth) were already set up, so we turned the camp into a small party and spent the next few hours sharing stories of snow-capped San Jacinto and the past 100 miles.
The next morning started off with a moderatly-steep climb, finally getting back into the Scrub Oaks and Junipers marking the Upper Sonoran zone of the San Bernadino wilderness. Also encountered that day were some of the much-discussed Poodle Dog Bush. If you haven't heard of such a ridiculous sounding plant, well, neither had I until researching this hike. Apparently the plant thrives in recently-burned areas of Oak and Ponderosa Pines, which constitute much of the San Gorgonio and San Gabriel Wildernesses. Although these first encounters consisted mostly of dead and dying plants, the warnings of extreme rashes and painful blisters following contact with this seemingly gentle shrub had us weaving and ducking to avoid any contact with the prolific Poodle Dog. Climbing higher and higher, we bumped into two other thru-hikers, Robocop and Happy Pants, who were resting in the shade of a Pine Tree. Filling up on water from a cold spring, we continued around steep ridges that provided astounding views of the Coachella Valley as well as San Gorgonio Peak. Around mile 15 of that day, we came upon another strange sight. Hidden from sight not 10 miles outside of Big Bear City on Highway 38 is "Randy Millers 'Animals in Action,'" a property with many fenced cages housing animals very much not native to the San Bernadino wilderness. Think "lion, tigers, and bears...oh my!" The PCT passes right along the outskirts of this property and the animals are very much visible from the trail. Although not many seemed to be around that day, we did spy a rather large Cinnamon Bear and another larger Grizzly Bear lounging in their cages. Also surprising were the existence of huge paw-prints alongside human shoe-prints on the trail. Fortunately, it sounds like the animals get taken out for walks once in a while. We arrived at our destination for the day and crashed hard, looking forward to a short day preceded by two zero days in Big Bear.
The next day was a short one in terms of hiking. We took a quick pace out of Arrastre Trail Camp and didn't stop but once along the 10 mile stretch until reaching Highway 18. We were able to get a ride from Doug, the property manager of the Fawnskin cabin at which we were staying (thanks Mom!) to our residence for the next three nights. After getting the rundown on the cabin and bidding farewell to Doug, we quickly dropped our packs and headed to the North Shore Cafe, where once again, it was feasting time. A Reuben for Oddball and a hot Pastrami Sandwich for me along with some delicious corn chowder, we reveled in the feeling of being full of delicious non-trail food. My exceedingly wonderful girlfriend Erin showed up a few hours later, bringing with her many treats and beverages for the following couple of zero days. She had even brought home-made dough for a truffle oil and mushroom pizza that night! YUM! Oddball's girlfriend Jen came up later that evening and we all carried on in that tiny little cabin, enjoying having a warm place to rest while the wind whipped around the lake creating a very cold evening.
We spent the following couple of days in and out of the cabin and the town of Big Bear Lake, eating, doing laundry, eating, buying food items for the trail, watching movies and eating some more. At the end of the two days, I am almost certain I made up the calorie deficit I had created in the preceding four days of hiking. Although thats probably still incorrect. What a great diet plan: eat everything in sight, still lose weight. I should write a fad-diet book.
The morning of the 28th was crisp, clear, and without a breeze. Erin drove Oddball and I back to the trailhead, where Erin and I embraced one last time before heading out. This part is never easy. Although I do get the chance to see her once again in Agua Dulce, I would miss her dearly for the next two weeks. Back on the trail, we climbed along the Southern Ridge above Big Bear Lake, enjoying views of both the lake to the south and Lucerne Valley to the north. We passed a few day hikers, and wound up camping at Delamar Spring Junction. Aside from the sounds of guns going off, a few off-road vehicles, and the occassional howling coyote, the spot was ideal for camping.
April 29th: have we really been hiking for almost a month!? This was the question in my mind as I awoke that morning. We broke camp and hiked through a very long burned section that day. Although forest fire is very much a tragedy in most cases (albeit necessary in nature), we found some beauty in the vast spectrum of colors produced by the wildflowers in this section. Yellows, purples, reds, and oranges contrasted with the charred black of burnt manzanita and chapparal. 17 miles completed that day, we camped underneath a 90-foot steel and wood bridge spanning a fork of Deep Creek. I took a swim in the chilly water and spent the remainder of the night defending my dinner from the many ants crawling about our riverside camp.
Heading down Deep Creek Canyon was our M.O. for the last day in April. Although the Creek was full and flowing, we spent most of the day just looking at it from 100 feet up. Although the highlight of the day was the arrival at Deep Creek Hot Springs, a popular (clothing optional) destination for day-hikers and bathers. We picked a spot in the shade of a few trees and rested our weary feet. There seemed to be some activity in the nearby brush, which we both ignored thinking birds were busy scavenging day-hiker trash. As I was closing my eyes with my head resting on my thermarest, I heard another, much-closer sound and looked to my right. My eyes didn't focus immediately, but the quick movement of a small, black serpentine tongue triggered a reaction I can only describe as explosive. It was as if a hundred small catapults were placed underneath me and released at the same time, propelling me from my supine position to a fully alert defensive posture, with the only sounds coming out of my mouth being something like: "Aa-wa-wa-ahhhh SNAKE!!" And indeed, a rather large Diamondback had emerged from the bushes a mere 16 inches from my head, without so much as a rattle. Oddball and I both watched as this rather large serpent slithered its way around my tarp and sleeping pad, just flicking its tongue in and out, not seeming to care if we were there or not. It finally retreated back into the tall grass, only to be replaced by another, slightly smaller snake with similar markings. Our only guess was that there was a den in the brush I had layed near, and that they became interested in the stench of thru-hikers. I quickly moved my gear back to the spot in the sun, and the decision was made that our break was over. We packed up and hiked the remainder of the day laughing about the experience, and I remained extra-vigilent to say the least.
After camping nearby a small stream, we hiked along a not-so-popular section of the trail which included some road walking, and which brought us close to Silverwood Dam and Mojave Siphon Power Plant. We encountered a little trail magic and had some fresh apples before making the minor climb up to Silverwood Lake. The remainder of the day brought us a cool breeze off the lake, some great California Poppies, and finally to Silverwood Lake Campground where we made good use of the running water and available power outlets to charge our various electronic gadgets.
Wednesday, May 2nd. Visions of Big Macs and Quarter Pounders propelled us from our campsite to Cajon Pass and the I-15. Many a thru-hiker stops at this popular interstate exit to gorge themselves on cheap fast food before the climb up to Wrightwood. We followed suit and demolished a few burgers, fries, and ice cold drinks. I did something I would probably regret and totaled my calories using the convenient chart on the reverse-side of the paper placemat and found that my total caloric intake for the meal was ::gasp:: 2440 calories! But again, the PCT is the ultimate diet plan, and given the climbing we were about to do, I felt no shame. We decided before that this day was to be 23 miles, as there was a long section without water approaching, and we did not want to be without a water source two nights in a row. We huffed it another 12 miles and camped in the clouds atop a ridge that would have otherwise given us a grand view of the Cajon Pass and adjacent areas. However, we were just thankful that the wind didn't kick up and blow our tarp-tents off the ridge.
As the previous day was a rather long one, we opted to hike 12 more miles to Guffy Campground, and use the next day to hike the remaining five miles to Highway 2 where we would catch a ride into Wrightwood. We encountered more of the dreaded Poodle Dog Bush, and performed in our own seperate ways, what I later dubbed, the "Poodle Dog Waltz." This is a shuffle-like dance that requires much balance and skill, along with much cursing and shouting as you weave and twist your legs and feet around, all the while avoiding the bristly leaves and oily flower stalks. Its quite complicated, however a video demonstration is in the works.
After a restless sleep at Guffy Campround where the wind blew at (what seemed like) 50 mph over the ridge and made the trees roar with objection to the bending and swaying they had to do, we hiked 5 miles to Highway 2. We only had our thumbs to the road for 10 minutes when a fellow hiker and his dog persuaded a group of guys in a truck to give us a ride in the back of their pickup. We piled in the back and rode into Wrightwood while the wind assisted in blowing away at least some of the smell our bodies now produced after a week of hiking. We thanked the driver and proceeded immediately to the nearest diner to once again celebrate a completed section with an overabundance of delicious breakfast and coffee.
Mile 369.5. Wrightwood, CA. The perfect place for a zero day and to rest up before heading West, then North along the Pacific Crest Trail. Next stop, Mt Baden-Powell, then Agua Dulce and the Saufley's place.
We are continuing our efforts to raise money for the Wounded Warrior Project, and would ask if you have not donated, to please consider supporting this remarkable organization. Every donation is tax-deductible, and whether big or small is welcome in helping our brothers and sisters in arms.
https://support.woundedwarriorproject.org/individual-fundraising/taskforcepct/
After a nights rest, we continued up Whitewater Canyon and crossed the cold waters of Whitewater Creek. I doused myself in the cool waters in anticipation of another warm day. It was shortly after the crossing where we encountered our first official rattlesnake of the trip. Coming around a corner, I looked up just in time to see the four-foot long Red Diamond rattler sunning itself just a foot off the trail. It did not seem startled, as it did not rattle and just slowly crossed over the trail as to say, "Hey guys, don't bother me, and I won't bother you." We took a few pictures and continued up to Mission Creek, which to many is a long, hot slog but to us "desert rats," a welcome section with many great views of steep canyon walls and a constant-flowing creek in which to filter good water. Although the day was long, we were rewarded with a creekside camp in the shade of several large oaks and the first of many pine trees we were to be seeing for the next few days. Twist and Tailgate (formerly Seth) were already set up, so we turned the camp into a small party and spent the next few hours sharing stories of snow-capped San Jacinto and the past 100 miles.
The next morning started off with a moderatly-steep climb, finally getting back into the Scrub Oaks and Junipers marking the Upper Sonoran zone of the San Bernadino wilderness. Also encountered that day were some of the much-discussed Poodle Dog Bush. If you haven't heard of such a ridiculous sounding plant, well, neither had I until researching this hike. Apparently the plant thrives in recently-burned areas of Oak and Ponderosa Pines, which constitute much of the San Gorgonio and San Gabriel Wildernesses. Although these first encounters consisted mostly of dead and dying plants, the warnings of extreme rashes and painful blisters following contact with this seemingly gentle shrub had us weaving and ducking to avoid any contact with the prolific Poodle Dog. Climbing higher and higher, we bumped into two other thru-hikers, Robocop and Happy Pants, who were resting in the shade of a Pine Tree. Filling up on water from a cold spring, we continued around steep ridges that provided astounding views of the Coachella Valley as well as San Gorgonio Peak. Around mile 15 of that day, we came upon another strange sight. Hidden from sight not 10 miles outside of Big Bear City on Highway 38 is "Randy Millers 'Animals in Action,'" a property with many fenced cages housing animals very much not native to the San Bernadino wilderness. Think "lion, tigers, and bears...oh my!" The PCT passes right along the outskirts of this property and the animals are very much visible from the trail. Although not many seemed to be around that day, we did spy a rather large Cinnamon Bear and another larger Grizzly Bear lounging in their cages. Also surprising were the existence of huge paw-prints alongside human shoe-prints on the trail. Fortunately, it sounds like the animals get taken out for walks once in a while. We arrived at our destination for the day and crashed hard, looking forward to a short day preceded by two zero days in Big Bear.
The next day was a short one in terms of hiking. We took a quick pace out of Arrastre Trail Camp and didn't stop but once along the 10 mile stretch until reaching Highway 18. We were able to get a ride from Doug, the property manager of the Fawnskin cabin at which we were staying (thanks Mom!) to our residence for the next three nights. After getting the rundown on the cabin and bidding farewell to Doug, we quickly dropped our packs and headed to the North Shore Cafe, where once again, it was feasting time. A Reuben for Oddball and a hot Pastrami Sandwich for me along with some delicious corn chowder, we reveled in the feeling of being full of delicious non-trail food. My exceedingly wonderful girlfriend Erin showed up a few hours later, bringing with her many treats and beverages for the following couple of zero days. She had even brought home-made dough for a truffle oil and mushroom pizza that night! YUM! Oddball's girlfriend Jen came up later that evening and we all carried on in that tiny little cabin, enjoying having a warm place to rest while the wind whipped around the lake creating a very cold evening.
We spent the following couple of days in and out of the cabin and the town of Big Bear Lake, eating, doing laundry, eating, buying food items for the trail, watching movies and eating some more. At the end of the two days, I am almost certain I made up the calorie deficit I had created in the preceding four days of hiking. Although thats probably still incorrect. What a great diet plan: eat everything in sight, still lose weight. I should write a fad-diet book.
The morning of the 28th was crisp, clear, and without a breeze. Erin drove Oddball and I back to the trailhead, where Erin and I embraced one last time before heading out. This part is never easy. Although I do get the chance to see her once again in Agua Dulce, I would miss her dearly for the next two weeks. Back on the trail, we climbed along the Southern Ridge above Big Bear Lake, enjoying views of both the lake to the south and Lucerne Valley to the north. We passed a few day hikers, and wound up camping at Delamar Spring Junction. Aside from the sounds of guns going off, a few off-road vehicles, and the occassional howling coyote, the spot was ideal for camping.
April 29th: have we really been hiking for almost a month!? This was the question in my mind as I awoke that morning. We broke camp and hiked through a very long burned section that day. Although forest fire is very much a tragedy in most cases (albeit necessary in nature), we found some beauty in the vast spectrum of colors produced by the wildflowers in this section. Yellows, purples, reds, and oranges contrasted with the charred black of burnt manzanita and chapparal. 17 miles completed that day, we camped underneath a 90-foot steel and wood bridge spanning a fork of Deep Creek. I took a swim in the chilly water and spent the remainder of the night defending my dinner from the many ants crawling about our riverside camp.
Heading down Deep Creek Canyon was our M.O. for the last day in April. Although the Creek was full and flowing, we spent most of the day just looking at it from 100 feet up. Although the highlight of the day was the arrival at Deep Creek Hot Springs, a popular (clothing optional) destination for day-hikers and bathers. We picked a spot in the shade of a few trees and rested our weary feet. There seemed to be some activity in the nearby brush, which we both ignored thinking birds were busy scavenging day-hiker trash. As I was closing my eyes with my head resting on my thermarest, I heard another, much-closer sound and looked to my right. My eyes didn't focus immediately, but the quick movement of a small, black serpentine tongue triggered a reaction I can only describe as explosive. It was as if a hundred small catapults were placed underneath me and released at the same time, propelling me from my supine position to a fully alert defensive posture, with the only sounds coming out of my mouth being something like: "Aa-wa-wa-ahhhh SNAKE!!" And indeed, a rather large Diamondback had emerged from the bushes a mere 16 inches from my head, without so much as a rattle. Oddball and I both watched as this rather large serpent slithered its way around my tarp and sleeping pad, just flicking its tongue in and out, not seeming to care if we were there or not. It finally retreated back into the tall grass, only to be replaced by another, slightly smaller snake with similar markings. Our only guess was that there was a den in the brush I had layed near, and that they became interested in the stench of thru-hikers. I quickly moved my gear back to the spot in the sun, and the decision was made that our break was over. We packed up and hiked the remainder of the day laughing about the experience, and I remained extra-vigilent to say the least.
After camping nearby a small stream, we hiked along a not-so-popular section of the trail which included some road walking, and which brought us close to Silverwood Dam and Mojave Siphon Power Plant. We encountered a little trail magic and had some fresh apples before making the minor climb up to Silverwood Lake. The remainder of the day brought us a cool breeze off the lake, some great California Poppies, and finally to Silverwood Lake Campground where we made good use of the running water and available power outlets to charge our various electronic gadgets.
Wednesday, May 2nd. Visions of Big Macs and Quarter Pounders propelled us from our campsite to Cajon Pass and the I-15. Many a thru-hiker stops at this popular interstate exit to gorge themselves on cheap fast food before the climb up to Wrightwood. We followed suit and demolished a few burgers, fries, and ice cold drinks. I did something I would probably regret and totaled my calories using the convenient chart on the reverse-side of the paper placemat and found that my total caloric intake for the meal was ::gasp:: 2440 calories! But again, the PCT is the ultimate diet plan, and given the climbing we were about to do, I felt no shame. We decided before that this day was to be 23 miles, as there was a long section without water approaching, and we did not want to be without a water source two nights in a row. We huffed it another 12 miles and camped in the clouds atop a ridge that would have otherwise given us a grand view of the Cajon Pass and adjacent areas. However, we were just thankful that the wind didn't kick up and blow our tarp-tents off the ridge.
As the previous day was a rather long one, we opted to hike 12 more miles to Guffy Campground, and use the next day to hike the remaining five miles to Highway 2 where we would catch a ride into Wrightwood. We encountered more of the dreaded Poodle Dog Bush, and performed in our own seperate ways, what I later dubbed, the "Poodle Dog Waltz." This is a shuffle-like dance that requires much balance and skill, along with much cursing and shouting as you weave and twist your legs and feet around, all the while avoiding the bristly leaves and oily flower stalks. Its quite complicated, however a video demonstration is in the works.
After a restless sleep at Guffy Campround where the wind blew at (what seemed like) 50 mph over the ridge and made the trees roar with objection to the bending and swaying they had to do, we hiked 5 miles to Highway 2. We only had our thumbs to the road for 10 minutes when a fellow hiker and his dog persuaded a group of guys in a truck to give us a ride in the back of their pickup. We piled in the back and rode into Wrightwood while the wind assisted in blowing away at least some of the smell our bodies now produced after a week of hiking. We thanked the driver and proceeded immediately to the nearest diner to once again celebrate a completed section with an overabundance of delicious breakfast and coffee.
Mile 369.5. Wrightwood, CA. The perfect place for a zero day and to rest up before heading West, then North along the Pacific Crest Trail. Next stop, Mt Baden-Powell, then Agua Dulce and the Saufley's place.
We are continuing our efforts to raise money for the Wounded Warrior Project, and would ask if you have not donated, to please consider supporting this remarkable organization. Every donation is tax-deductible, and whether big or small is welcome in helping our brothers and sisters in arms.
https://support.woundedwarriorproject.org/individual-fundraising/taskforcepct/
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Crawling up the Mountain
After a couple of refreshing zero days at Mataguay Scout Ranch we continued our hike north. The first day Mother Nature decided to pour a considerable amount of rain on us all morning and then for an hour or so of the afternoon. Heavy rains in areas that alternate between high desert and oak forest
When the rain did finally relent in this section we found ourselves walking through some areas similar to the Pioneer Mail section, where everyone’s favorite friend erosion, seemed to be at work turning Volkswagen Bug sized boulders into all sorts of hues of red. The end of this first day turned out to be something of a mixed bag. I had been talking off and on about Mike Herrera, and his renowned hiker hospitality, and then upon our arrival at
Chihuahua Valley Road
Chihuahua Valley Road
The following day proved somewhat less eventful. The first half of the day was unusually kind to us, the sections to Tule and Nance Canyons during this time of year are normally scorchers, however we were blessed with a light coverage of clouds (no rain) and a very cool and constant breeze. This good weather did seem to dissipate just about when the sun reached its zenith and a little sun burning was in order. We took an early dinner in Nance Canyon
Coming out of the water cache we took what seemed like a brisk nine-mile walk through the park… or at least a quick hike through Table Mountain
Leaving Idyllwild turned out to be an interesting ride, but thanks to the courtesy of three separate individuals and three separate hitches in a relatively short amount of time, we were able to return to the trailhead. From there we also picked up a hiking companion. Young men named Francis choose to come along with us for this section. Waiting out the storm for a single day turned out to be a good and a bad choice. One on hand, we had the opportunity to experience Hwy 74 to Saddle Junction (27.3mi) complete covered in snow and also had multiple opportunities to camp in the snow. However, on the other hand, this also meant that at best we were only able to move about a mile an hour; often even less. When a three mile stretch is completed in four hours can take quiet a toll on a hiker's morale. The snow that causes this slow place does come with some perks. Our second day into San Jacinto , we hiked a little over twelve miles and camped at a small clearing at mile 172. Here we were able to dig out an old fire pit, find reasonably dry firewood, and sacrifice a small amount of our stove fuel to create a wonderful little fire. The sensation that comes with drying feet that have been soaked all day long above an open flame is unparalleled experience. By the third day, the benefits of such perks were becoming overshadowed by the sheer amount of snow and its composition—it was too cool during the day for any significant melting to occur and it was too warm during the evening for it to become solid. In other words we were post-holing up to our knees, hips, and waists all day with few if any breaks. After the end of our third day, we camped at Saddle Junction and decided we were going to have to bail out down Devil’s Slide or run out of food trying to get over Fuller Ridge. Additionally, with the exception of one or two snow melt creeklets, we weren’t getting any water unless we melted snow; and this was taking a substantial toll on our stove fuel.
Francis opted to continue on and we decided to bail down Devil’s Slide into Idyllwild. Our trip was shorted thanks to an Idyllwild resident, David Ledbetter, who gave up a ride shortly after Humber Park Humber Park
I wish I could say something exciting about Fuller Ridge. Normally it is quite the challenge. It sits on the northern side of San Jacinto and tends to hold onto snow like a packrat twenty-year old college student holds onto ketchup packets. The trail, during early spring cannot be found by the use of one’s eyes. Every sign that tends to give a trail away in snow is absent on Fuller. It simply is a snow-capped ridgeline that moves west to east, and then south; with a trail somewhere on the northside. Crossing Fuller Ridge is basically a matter of knowing what direction you need to go, going in that direction, taking one’s time, and being patient when one periodically steps on a notoriously soft spot of snow that claims an entire leg and freezes one’s groin. And in that exact manner, we went over Fuller Ridge, rested up at the Fuller Ridge trailhead parking lot at mile 190.2 and met up with another couple of hikers along the way—Free Bird and Bird—who are also hiking the entire PCT. Like all hikers we’ve met before them, they were extremely kind, approachable, and their company was welcomed each time we bumped into each other.
If you hike to the Fuller Ridge trailhead parking lot and there's still plenty of good sunlight, why not hike all the way down the mountain? From the parking lot, it is only 4.3mi to Interstate 10 as the crow flies. On the trail though, it’s about twenty miles. Excited with our accomplishment we opted to do it. There wasn’t any good water on that section of the trail, camping spots few and far between; again, why not? Coming down the mountain we also bumped into one of Tyler
Don't forget, you can help us help our fellow veterants by donating to Wounded Warrior Project through our event page. Every dollar is completely tax deductable and every dollar helps do some amazing work for our brothers and sisters in arms.
https://support.woundedwarriorproject.org/individual-fundraising/taskforcepct/
Don't forget, you can help us help our fellow veterants by donating to Wounded Warrior Project through our event page. Every dollar is completely tax deductable and every dollar helps do some amazing work for our brothers and sisters in arms.
https://support.woundedwarriorproject.org/individual-fundraising/taskforcepct/
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