On to Walker Pass

May 12, 2017

I opened bleary eyes reluctantly to a peaceful dawn. After the fierce wind yesterday and last night, I wanted to turn over and bury my head in my pillow, drifting into another few hours of blessed sleep. Only I didn’t have a pillow. And miles of trail were waiting to be hiked.

A water cache at Bird Spring Pass gave us enough water for the day. Once again I found myself thinking grateful thoughts to the unknown trail angels who hauled water up dirt roads just for the love of it!

Gopher, from London, was already getting water when I arrived. He looked much more cheerful and wide awake than I felt.

“Where did you spend the night?” I asked, wondering if he had found better shelter than a flattened tent.

Gopher gestured to the nearby Joshua trees shading the water cache. “I sort of burrowed into a group of those tree-thingies a few yards down the slope.”

“Joshua trees,” I said.

“Oh, are those Joshua trees? Well, now I know!” Gopher looked pleased. “What about you? Did you find shelter?”

“Not really,” I shook my head. “We cowboy camped on top of our tent, amid the cow patties down in the valley. When the wind quit around 11:30 p.m., we set up the tent.”

“Cow patties? So those things are from cows?” Gopher smiled. “I wasn’t sure. But such big poop! I was hoping it was cows!”

“Yes,” I laughed. “The cows were across the valley, where it was a bit sheltered from the wind, but too steep for us.”

We parted with calls of “See you down the trail.” I felt more cheerful, though I knew only a good long nap would completely restore my equilibrium.

We saw several bushes with bright yellow, waxy blooms. Once again Jay deployed the California Wildflower app, and we were rewarded with the shrub’s name – California flannelbush. I’m afraid, in my sleep-deprived state, that all I could think of was comfortable flannel pajamas! But the information on the wildflower app warned us that hairs on the leaves could cause a rash. Best to be admired from a distance!

From the top of our first big climb of the day, Jay saw a flock of Clark’s nutcrackers, making their loud calls to each other.

I enjoyed seeing rocky rims on a ridge as we climbed.

I sighted one more flower today, the arrow-leaf balsam root. This flower grows in the Sierra Nevada mountains near our home in Nevada. Sighting it for the first time today made me feel like our hike was truly bringing us closer to home.

Much of the day was spent on top of ridges, with little shelter from vagrant stray breezes, bringing cold temperatures across the land. When dinner time rolled around, we were determined to eat without a chilly puff of air sliding down our necks. We settled upon a solid outcrop of stone, higher than our heads. Sitting at its base, we had a perfect view of two round boulders still in the sunlight. Black lizards evidently made this their home. A couple of lizards did pushups before chasing each other up and down the rock. It amazed me, watching them run straight up a vertical surface. One even clung upside down to an overhang for a brief second. I never knew how many lizards were there, as we witnessed numerous chases, several sun warming sessions with pushups, and even one brief mating. The finale was a three way chase, large lizards charging across the boulders at dizzying speeds! Exciting stuff for dinner entertainment!

May 13, 2018

“Good morning! It’s a town day!” Jay whispered, grinning at me in the dawn light. I stuck my nose out of my sleeping bag. Brrr! I snuggled against Jay, seeking a bit of warmth, delaying the morning chill for a few precious moments.

Though we only had about seven miles to hike before reaching Walker Pass, I was determined to enjoy the sights as we hiked. Flowers outdid themselves!

The Bigelow tickweed – a rather ugly name for a beautiful flower!

Once again Jay’s California Wildflower app came into use, and we discovered one of the flowers bore our name!

The Bigelow’s tickseed – a rather ugly name for a beautiful flower!

Not only did individual flowers abound, but whole hillsides were covered with blooms!

When we finally reached Walker Pass Campground, a day hiker offered us a ride to the nearest town, Inyokern. Pavel and his dog, Roxie, were great company! Pavel had immigrated to the United States with his family when he was ten. He still had a charming Russian accent. I couldn’t resist asking him about a Russian idiom I had read once, “…something about a crayfish whistling on a mountaintop?”

Pavel laughed. “Yes, it is a real idiom, though a bit old-fashioned. And perhaps it is a lobster. But yes, something with claws. ‘That will happen when a lobster whistles from a mountain top.’ A bit like the English idiom of ‘when pigs fly’.”

Walker Pass Campground – a fortuitous meeting place for getting a ride from a trail angel!

Pavel dropped us off at the only burger joint in Inyokern, where we ate a delicious lunch of bacon burgers and french fries (instead of trail food – sardines and raisins!).

We then checked into the only hotel in Inyokern. Sitting on the bed after our showers, Jay and I looked at each other. We’d made it! 650 miles! It’s been quite an adventure, with only 2,000 miles to go!

Lizards and Birdies and Wind, Oh My!

May 9, 2017

Birds! After two days of wind, the weather has calmed, and birds are everywhere! Just before lunch I saw a spotted towhee, sitting on a bare branch, giving out both its calls, first the nasal “tweeee”, then the squeaky door hinge “creeee?” While eating lunch we were entertained with the flittings of several goldfinches. This afternoon a bird with a bright blue body and black wings darted from the side of the trail, nearly under my feet, winging its way to hide in a tree. Perhaps a blue grosbeak? With only a second to see it, I couldn’t nail its identity. In the late afternoon, a bird gave me about two minutes of unobstructed observation time, sitting on a bare tree branch, turning back and forth in the slanting sunlight. Gray body and wings, white eye stripes, a single spot on a gray chest, and white tips to each tail feather – even with all that, I’m still not exactly sure of its identity. Perhaps a sparrow?

Most of the morning we hiked through high desert scrub with bushes and junipers. Warm sunshine brought out the horned lizards, so many I lost count. I remember an elementary school friend telling me that lizards squirted blood from their eyes. This sounded so strange, I refused to believe my friend. Much to my amazement, when reading Wikipedia about these ‘horny toads’, it says 8 of the 22 species can squirt blood from the corners of their eyes when threatened! Evidently the blood tastes nasty to canine and feline predators, perhaps due to the lizards’ diet of venomous harvester ants.

The spines on its back are modified reptile scales, while the horns on its head are true horns with bone cores.

Easy to see that its first defense is camouflage!

We met a total of five PCT hikers headed south today. Pain and Panic had skipped from Tehachapi to Kennedy Meadows to avoid several days of wind, and were thoroughly enjoying being ‘southbounders’. “This way, we aren’t camping with a large group of hikers,” Panic explained. “Most of the northbounders are so focused on getting their miles in, they don’t even have time to say hello! At first we thought y’all were section hikers because you stopped to talk with us. We’ve met so many nice people since we flipped!”

We met Noodles and Long Skirt in the early evening. We talked for a few moments, but lengthening shadows pushed us both on to begin searching for a campsite.

Grady was the final hiker we met, happily covering miles with a ground-eating stride. Once again we stopped to talk, trading information about water sources.

This afternoon, as the vegetation changed from high desert scrub to live oaks and pines, we walked across several hillsides covered in purple lupines. The scent of warm grape cool-aid surrounded us. What an experience, to be enveloped in scent and purple beauty! Jay used a flower app called California Wildflowers to find the name of these aromatic beauties.

May 10, 2018

The soft sand of decomposed granite on the trail provided a perfect canvas for morning visitor tracks. Quail tracks raced along in wavering lines, scuttling from side to side. Soft furry rabbit footprints crossed the trail. Deer hoofs left exclamation points down the middle of the path. Tiny mouse tracks skittered back and forth several times. Squirrels left deep claw marks on the tips of their footprints as they bounded along. Though we were early, this trail had already seen many morning visitors.

Birds continued to be abundant on this beautiful day. A spotted towhee put its heart and soul into its morning melody. I watched, entranced, as it settled upon a branch and put back its head, throat swelling. What glorious aria was about to grace the air? “Tweeeee!” Harsh and buzzy, the loud nasal trill issued forth. Not exactly melodic, but sung with such enthusiasm, one couldn’t help laughing in delight.

Near lunch time, Jay and I caught up with a PCT hiker from Germany, Chris. Just as the three of us came to a dirt road, a slowly moving vehicle pulled up and stopped.

“Do you need some water?” a man called. Steve got out and offered us cookies, cheese, and water. He and his friend, Larry, were checking out trail heads, preparing to bring a group of young people on a backpack trip in a few days. We talked about trails, enjoying the instant bond of fellow hikers. Before they left, they took our garbage, which was even better than the cookies and cheese, in my estimation! (Chris, however, was most grateful for the cookies!)

Chris, Steve, and Jay talk while Larry looks on from the car. Thank you so very much!

The wind returned this afternoon, buffeting us a bit as the trail followed an exposed ridge line. At 7:00 p.m., we left the trail, following a faint track onto the lee side of the ridge, seeking shelter from the insistent breeze. Jay finally found a hollow surrounded by pines and sand dunes. We set up our tent with the wind building in the treetops. Much of the night the wind howled across the top of our hollow, occasionally reaching down to shake the tent. I was grateful for the shelter!

May 11, 2018

We woke to birdsong and sunshine. The wind continued above our hollow, but gentler with the new day. Jay and I couldn’t resist taking pictures of more grape soda lupine in the early morning light.

Here’s a closeup of this lovely flower.

We also saw a lizard with spots and stripes!

The wind gained force as the day progressed. It was tough to find shelter when stopping for a rest or meal. Lunch was eaten with my back firmly towards the wind, hood pulled over my head. We passed Gopher, a PCT hiker from London, eating lunch while crouched behind a boulder. “Epic wind,” he shouted cheerfully.

By early evening, forceful gusts were sending me staggering across the trail, buffeting me back and forth. At 5:00 p.m., Jay pointed to a small herd of cows in the grass and bushes on the steep slope below us. “Cows aren’t stupid,” he observed. “If all the cows are gathered here, this is probably the best shelter we’re going to find for a while. Let’s eat dinner.”

Cows mark the most sheltered spot for dining!

After dinner we continued, searching for a flat, sheltered spot. We headed downhill across a giant bowl below Bird Spring Pass. At 8:00 p.m., we gave up on shelter, spread our tent flat, weighting it with rocks, and rolled out our sleeping bags on top. Alternately today the wind had roused in me anger, fear, and self-pity. By now, I was simply tired of it.

“I just hope the cows stay on their side of the valley,” I mumbled as I flopped onto my bag.

At 11:30 p.m., the wind abated. Jay woke me, wanting to put up the tent. I was so sleep-fogged, I could barely stand upright, and was not much use in pitching the tent. But I gladly crawled inside once it was erect, and knew nothing else until the dawn.

Hiking Through a Rainbow

May 6, 2018

The wind woke us at 4:30 a.m., whistling in the pre-dawn dark, shaking our tent like a mischievous puppy begging us to come out and play. Acquiescing to the inevitable, we packed and started walking. Our reward for this ridiculously early start was a gorgeous sunrise.

Wind turbines accent the morning glory of sunrise and clouds.

Once again flowers brought exquisite loveliness to our hike. As the sun took its first steps above the horizon, blooms glowed with unearthly flourescence, absorbing dawn ultraviolet light only to emit it in vibrant color. Forward progress slowed as I strove to capture some of this ephemeral splendor.

A hiker named Phoenix, from Switzerland, overtook me, long legs working to make short work of the miles.

“Good morning,” I greeted him. “Aren’t these flowers glorious? I feel as if I am hiking inside a rainbow.”

Phoenix paused, contemplating this visual imagery. “Yes, beautiful. But here there is the smell also. That makes here more nice than a rainbow.”

At 9:30 a.m., Jay and I reached Tehachapi Willow Springs Rd. Here there was a list of 40 trail angels who reportedly delight in ferrying dirty, smelly thru-hikers to their town.

The list also contained the phone number for the local bus. I called the bus, asking if it ran on a Sunday, and was informed that it would come by Hwy 58 at 1:30 p.m.

“Hwy 58 is not a regular stop for the bus,” the dispatch lady told me. “You’ll have to call and request a special stop if you are going to be there.”

Jay and I looked at each other – could we cover 8.2 miles in three and a half hours? We had already hiked 7.5 miles this morning. “Let’s give it a try!” We agreed.

And so we set out. No lollygagging, no ‘comfortable pace’, no stopping for flower pictures. Now was the time to see what our bodies could accomplish when pushed. Up and down hills, over grasslands, past wind turbines, we barely paused to drink, staying focused on this self-imposed goal. At 1:00 p.m., we triumphantly reached the overpass, a bridge in the middle of nowhere, existing only to let cars enter the highway from Cameron Canyon Rd, a seldom traveled country lane.

I called the bus station again, to be told that there was a problem with the bus, and it would not be arriving until 5:15 p.m. Oh my gosh! All that hurrying, and now we had four hours of waiting in hot sunshine on the side of a highway interchange. Hitch hiking from the bridge didn’t seem too practical, and hitch hiking on the highway itself was quite dangerous, not to mention probably illegal.

Jay noticed a sign attached to a fence, advertising yet another phone number for a trail angel. Without much hope, we called it. Within a few minutes, a text came back, “Your request has gone out to 40 trail angels.” All we could do was wait.

Jay wandered off to answer a call of nature in the privacy of some bushes. I sat on baking gravel beside our packs.

An old car pulled up, and two men with gray hair and long beards called out, “Do you need a ride to town?”

“Sure,” I called back. “Do you have room for me and my husband?”

The two men got out of the car and began rearranging a plethora of stuff in the back seat. “I think we can fit you both in,” one said.

Jay appeared at my side. “I just got a text,” he whispered to me. “It says ‘Dave’ is on his way here, and to not take any other rides. We can’t go with these guys.”

I gave Jay a panicked glance, then turned to the two helpful locals. “Uh, excuse me,” I began apologetically. “My husband just got a text that someone is coming from Tehachapi to pick us up. I guess we better wait for him. But thank you so very much for offering us a ride. It is incredibly kind of you!”

The two men good-naturedly stopped rearranging their belongings and climbed back inside their car. With calls of “happy hiking” and “thank you so much”, we parted. Once again Jay and I were alone on the empty road.

I was digging through my pack for a snack when another car pulled up, and a tall man called out, “Do you need a ride?” This trail angel had been helping hikers at Tehachapi Willow Springs Rd, and decided to swing by the highway before going home. Once again we explained about the text from ‘Dave’. “Are you sure he’ll arrive?” The man climbed out of his car. “I’ll just wait with you, to make sure.”

We chatted for about 10 minutes, until yet another car pulled off the highway. This time ‘Dave’ was inside, and we happily piled our packs in his trunk. I know I have said it often, but once again, I was truly amazed at the willingness of perfect strangers to help us with transportation.

Arriving at the Best Western in Tehachapi, we gratefully took showers, washed clothes, and refueled our bodies. It had been 50 miles since our last shower, and 83 miles since we’d had dirt-free clothes. The luxury of cleanliness was not something we took for granted.

May 7, 2018

Zero day! The last time we spent a whole day in town was 225 miles ago, at Cajon Pass! Our goal today was to pick up forwarded mail at the post office, and resupply at a grocery store. The post office, on the edge of town, required a 1.6 mile hike across railroad tracks and back over Highway 58. Once there, a long line greeted us.

“I’ll wait outside,” Jay decided, generously offering to hold my empty pack while I joined the queue. By the time I had picked up our mail, three different people had offered us rides back across town!

Candice was ready to leave at the same time as us, so we piled into her car.

“This is so nice of you,” I told her. “I’m grateful to skip walking across the highway and railroad tracks again!”

“Yes, thank you very much,” Jay agreed. “It’s amazing how many people want to help hikers in this town.”

“My husband and I are having a contest to see who can give the most hikers a ride this season,” Candice laughed. “I’ll need to take your picture when I drop you at the grocery store, to prove the numbers I am claiming.”

Candice, Sarah, and Jay in the town of Tehachapi.

May 8, 2018

During breakfast at the hotel this morning, some other hikers shared the phone number of a trail angel willing to give rides from Tehachapi back to the trailhead. We called Daniel, and he graciously agreed to pick us up at 10:00 a.m., after he had dropped off another carload of hikers.

During the drive, we discovered that Daniel was Robert’s brother, and the owner of the extremely comfortable campsite where we had gorged on spaghetti two nights ago! What a wondrous world we live in!

I hated to say goodbye to such a nice person, but the call of the trail pulled us onward.

From Hwy 58, the trail headed uphill in a series of long switchbacks. Junipers and Joshua trees provided sporadic shade.

Someone turned this group of Joshua trees into a lovely rest area.

Near the top of the climb, jutting rocks accented the scenery.

Flowers continued to enchant.

After climbing over 2,000 feet in the course of 12.7 miles, I was glad to see evening shadows bringing the peace of a campsite. We camped under a live oak tree on the edge of a meadow, with a ridge of wind turbines just beyond. Once again an owl sounded a lullaby as I fell asleep.

In Which I Meet Two Followers

May 5, 2018

A living stick greeted me from atop my pack this morning.

There are over 3,000 species of stick insects, ranging in length from one half inch to 12 inches. I didn’t even know walking sticks could be white! This one was about 4 inches long.

We partook of breakfast in the shade of a juniper tree while a meadowlark serenaded the morning.

Juniper tree – easy to identify with the characteristic blue berries, which many birds eat.

Numerous Joshua trees dotted the landscape. This one sported fruit, the first I had seen, and stimulated my curiosity about this unusual plant. Wikipedia informed me that the leaves, fruit and flowers were used by the Cahuilla Native Americans, and early ranchers used the trunks and branches for fence posts and fuel. Also, it is theorized that the now extinct giant Shasta ground sloth was a key to the spread of the Joshua tree, as the leaves and fruits have been found in ground sloth dung. (Side note: The giant Shasta ground sloth went extinct 13,000 years ago. Dung has survived that long??? Hikers, remember this next time you are burying your waste. The desert preserves!)

We worked for our miles today, climbing 2,000 feet of elevation, then dropping down to a stream in Tylerhorse Canyon, then climbing another 2,000 feet to end on a mountain top. Fatigued muscles protested, but wildflowers carpeted the desert, birds sang much of the day, and grace and beauty abounded.

We reached Tylerhorse Canyon at lunch time, sharing the shade of a juniper tree with a bold scrub jay.

Scrub jays are known to have a very precise memory for food caches of seeds and berries. I’m sure this one was disappointed when we didn’t share our lunch!

At the base of the canyon, we met two sets of volunteers from ACE (American Conservation Experience) which partners with the PCTA (Pacific Crest Trail Association). These young people will be repairing trails for six months as volunteers! All I can say is a very humble, “Thank you!”

Louisa and Brady kindly pose for my camera.

Arthur, Zack, and Kinsey pause to graciously answer my questions.

The climb out of Tylerhorse Canyon, in the heat of the afternoon, began to take its toll. I found myself counting the switchbacks, and feeling extremely grateful that the trail did have switchbacks, instead of going straight up!

Along with counting each time the trail turned upon itself, I had to keep stopping for moments of beauty. Flowers continued to delight!

We reached our final mountain top just at dinner time. My weary legs rejoiced when I came upon a charming campsite/hiker home with folding chairs, plank counters, garbage can, and a water cache. A welcome sign from Daniel, Robert, and Patti instructed hikers to “Have a drink!”

Jay and I sat down, marveling at all this luxury, including a beautiful view! I had just put a tin of sardines upon the chair beside me, when a truck pulled up.

Bounding out of the vehicle, a bearded man startled us with the question, “You must be Sarah and Jay. You’re not planning to eat those sardines for dinner, are you?”

How did he know our names? What was going on?

It turned out that Robert and Patti lived on this mountain, and made a habit of sharing their dinner with lucky PCT hikers at Daniel’s campsite. They also followed a few PCT blogs each year, and had chosen mine as one to follow! As they unloaded still steaming spaghetti and utensils from their truck, they told us they had been expecting us today, based upon our progress so far. I was overwhelmed with amazement and gratitude to this generous couple! After a long though beautiful day, this impromptu feast and fascinating conversation made the tough miles seem a distant memory!

“This is my mother’s recipe,” Robert explained as he spooned heavenly smelling sauce from a giant pot. “I’m from a large family, and my mother always made a huge batch. My siblings and I have tried cutting the recipe in half, but it only tastes right when it’s made with her proportions.”

As we ate (and swooned over the delectable spaghetti), Robert and Patti gave us a short historical perspective about the land through which we’d been hiking.

“We’ve been hiking past a great many windmills,” Jay observed.

“Oh yes, those ‘wind turbines,’ as my granddaughter scrupulously calls them, have been big business. Some years ago, quite a few of my neighbors leased options on their land to the wind turbine companies. Nothing ever got built up here. If the companies had asked, we could have told them that the winds are too variable on this mountain top. They never asked, though.” Robert laughed.

Patti and Robert told us about the fires, one in 2007, another in 2012. “You should have seen the dense pinyon pines up here,” Robert reminiscenced. “We harvested pinyon nuts every year. Some of those trees were 300 years old. The fire destroyed everything, including our house. We rebuilt, with the help of our family.”

I mentioned the ACE volunteers I had seen at the bottom of Tylerhorse Canyon.

“Oh, good, I’m glad to hear that section is being repaired! I’ve told the PCTA about it more than once,” Robert smiled.

“What happened? It’s pretty sketchy down there.” I leaned forward in anticipation of another story.

“Last August there was a flash flood. We got seven inches of rain in one hour here at home! You can imagine the amount of run off the canyon collected! There was a LOT of water sluicing through that constricted channel. Hikers told us they couldn’t even find the trail down there. It’s good to have it restored.”

We sat and ate and talked and ate some more. Time flew as evening shadows lengthened. I didn’t want this magical visit to end!

“Will you be camping here tonight?” Robert finally asked.

“It looks like we still have an hour of daylight. We should probably walk a bit further, just to give our stomachs time to digest.” Jay patted his midriff gingerly. “I was hoping there might be a small campsite down the mountain a ways.”

Robert glanced doubtfully at Patti. “It gets pretty steep once you drop off the top.” He thought a moment, then his face brightened. “Actually, about halfway down, there is a bit of meadow where the ridge extends out a ways. There might be a piece of flat ground for you.”

“Perfect!” Jay exclaimed.

Regretfully, we gave Patti and Robert hugs, took a quick picture, and watched them drive away before shouldering our packs. What an incredible encounter!

As we hiked through the last of the evening, spotted towhees called from trees and bushes. For the first time, I connected the sound of the squeaky-door-hinge-call to the towhee. Birds have so many sounds! It’s hard to keep them straight. I also saw three rabbits slipping into the brush as we passed. This mountain held an abundance of life!

Walking on Water

May 4, 2018

The wind shook our one room shelter last night, waking me twice with its fierce determination to get inside. Sturdy construction thwarted the gale, and Jay and I slept peacefully.

This morning we took the shuttle to Neenach Cafe and Market, where we bought delicious giant breakfast burritos, called “piglets”, and food to get us to Tehachapi. We were grateful for the shuttle up and down Highway 138, an extremely busy, rather dangerous road. Hikertown is not a place I would want to linger, but I did appreciate the help this strategically placed hostel offered.

The PCT crosses the western tip of the Mojave Desert, following the Los Angeles Aqueduct through Antelope Valley for much of the day. This valley is known and sometimes dreaded by PCT hikers for its unobstructed wind and high temperatures. Many hikers choose to cross the valley at night, to avoid sun exposure. Today, however, temperatures are in the 70’s, perfect for a gentle stroll through the desert. As the picture shows, we have 17 miles of very flat walking ahead of us!

We’ve left the San Gabriel Mountains, and now have to cross a small corner of the Mohave Desert before climbing into the Tehachapi Mountains.

The Los Angeles Aqueduct brings water from the Owens Valley, on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, to Los Angeles. First completed in 1913, with 233 miles of pipes and channels, the well-engineered design allows water to move by gravity alone. There are many opinions concerning depriving Owens Valley of water in order to facilitate the growth of Los Angeles. I, being a lowly hiker, have no political opinions. Walking beside a piece of living history did interest me, however.

My first sight of the aqueduct surprised me with open water!

Soon the trail made a 90 degree turn, following the aqueduct in the form of a giant pipe half buried in dirt and sand.

A single raven sits atop the pipe full of water, while we traverse the dirt road beside it.

Many hikers complain of the boredom of this day’s hike. I admit, I wouldn’t want to cross this valley every day. But after days of winding through hills and mountains, the novelty of flat and straight entertained me for hours. This picture shows Joshua trees on Jay’s right.

Jay maintains that a successful thru-hiker must have a high tolerance for monotony. I agree, and add that it’s fun to find the entertainment factor in said monotony!

A few days ago, a local man had told Jay and me stories of his childhood, driving across the desert with his father, getting water through access ports in the aqueduct. He described the awe of peering down into the black moving water, fishing for liquid with a water bottle tied to a string.

After a few miles, the round pipe we had been following disappeared completely underground, replaced by a concrete road. I was disappointed to find the access ports firmly locked with no-nonsense official padlocks. Modern day mistrust can remove a bit of the wonder from life. My imagination, however, enjoyed free reign as I walked above all those gallons of flowing water.

Access boxes to the water below were spaced at regular intervals along the aqueduct.

People do live in Antelope Valley, and signs of habitation gave me another thing to watch as we passed at walking pace.

We saw fences, a few cattle, and even some houses in the first five miles of the walk.

And so the day continued. We were grateful for beautiful weather. In the afternoon, the wind began to pick up a bit, but remained much gentler than last night’s gale!

I noticed bird tracks in the sandy dirt, and wondered which bird had run across the path. The footprints were too large for quail. Perhaps a roadrunner? Maybe a swaggering raven? (Upon looking it up later, I learned that roadrunner tracks form an X shape, while ravens have more of a classic bird print. I probably saw raven tracks.)

As we neared the foothills of the Tehachapi Mountains, we saw solar farms, more properly known as photovoltaic power stations, on our right, and windmills ahead.

Evening brought welcome shadows to our walk.

The day ended at Cottonwood Creek, where a faucet taps into the aqueduct. We also found a 55 gallon blue barrel full of water, provided by Bob from Hikertown. Gratefully, we filled our bottles, then crossed the dry creek to pitch our tent on a flat sandbar while the sunset misted the sky with pink and peach colors.

Contentment

May 2, 2017

This morning brought the delight of a hot shower, delicious breakfast, and Jay feeling much better after a sound night’s sleep. The Rock Inn had provided just the medicine needed!

It was with reluctance that we left this haven of warmth and friendliness to face the inhospitable wind once again as we walked two miles back to the PCT. Clouds still hugged the mountain tops, which was where the PCT quickly took us.

Near noon, the clouds lifted, revealing blue sky and sunshine! When we saw two hikers, Cheetoh and Ruby, eating lunch in the lee of a rock escarpment, we decided to join them. We enjoyed the conversation as much as the food, once again trading hiker stories. The end of lunch was marked by a western tanager, first sighted by Cheetoh. We all paused, captivated with its bright colors of yellow body, black wings, and red head. These birds have my all time approval, because not only are they beautiful, but during breeding season, they eat many insects, including wasps!

Lifting clouds reveal azure sky – at least for a few moments!

Soon after we began hiking again, the clouds returned, making our sunny lunch just a memory.

Water today came from a spring at Upper Shake Campground. Trail crews have put a great deal of work into this portion of the PCT, creating a lovely detour to fetch life-giving liquid! Live oaks and Coulter pines became more numerous, paving the trail with cushiony pine needles peppered with rolling acorns.

Near the end of the day, we came across this hiker-made sign. Seeing miles marked in kilometers reinforced the knowledge that we shared the PCT with many people from other countries.

We pitched our tent a half mile south of Sawmill Campground, once again choosing solitude over the companionship of other hikers. Temperatures had dropped precipitously since our sunny lunch, and I crawled into my sleeping bag wearing all the clothes from my pack. I admit to harboring a few longing memories of last night’s comfort at The Rock Inn. However, as I reflected upon western tanagers, pollen cones from Coulter pines, and acorn signposts, serene tranquility filled my heart. (My nose, on the other hand, remained cold!) 🙂

May 3, 2018

Early in our hike today we came across another hiker-made signpost. Five hundred miles seemed like a lot until I did the math and realized that we still had 2,150 miles to go!

A man offered us water and mints from his car as we crossed a dirt road. He was running support for another hiker, but had come prepared to help anyone he met. We ate the mints with gratitude and thanks. I’m now embarrassed to admit, I have forgotten this trail angel’s name.

Live oaks and pines continued to line the trail, bathing us in beauty. The sunshine brought rising temperatures. With a mostly downhill slant to our path, miles flew by!

Blue skies and sunshine filter through the canopy of oaks and pines, with green ground cover delighting the eyes!

“Enjoy the trees,” Jay warned. “We’ll be hitting Antelope Valley this evening, and it will be a while before we see such lush vegetation again.”

Our first good look at Antelope Valley, notorious for wind and high temperatures.

As the afternoon progressed, the ubiquitous wind began to strengthen. Chamise chaparral and dry grasses became the major life forms around us. Though we had not planned to reach Antelope Valley today, our light packs and the easy trail kept urging us forward.

Nearing the valley floor, our oak and pine cover was left behind.

Just on the other side of Highway 138, a sizeable piece of property has been turned into a hiker hostel. The owner, Richard, and the caretaker, Bob, are happy to have hikers take shelter here for a donation of $10 per person. They provide a shuttle to Neenach Cafe and Market, which is owned by Richard, but we arrived just as the last shuttle was returning.

Hikers are welcome to pitch their tent on the bare dirt anywhere on the property. There are many small buildings with beds available on a first come, first served basis. One bathroom serves all hikers (about 30 that night). The wind, which was rapidly approaching gale force on the sweeping valley floor, convinced Jay and me to take shelter in a room. Not too clean, but it was private, with walls sturdy enough to block the wind, which was all I asked.

A sprawl of small rooms house either none-to-clean beds, or a jumble of junk.

Unplanned

May 1, 2018

The Green Valley Fire Station at San Fransquito Canyon Rd makes a water spigot available to PCT hikers, and thus became our first objective of the day, even before breakfast. Our online map and water report informed us that we would have to hike nearly 15 miles before reaching the next reliable water on the PCT. With a sigh for weight, but grateful nonetheless for this water spigot, we each filled three liters.

A nine hundred foot climb, over the course of 1.5 miles, was the next job for the day, bringing us out of San Fransquito Canyon. Lowering clouds and cold wind, with a few spatters of raindrops, rewarded us at the top of the ‘highlands’.

Nothing can compare with hiking into the cloud ceiling!

Once again the trail wound up and down and around, following the contours of the landscape.

The clouds followed us into the sheltering oaks on the sides of the ridges.

As we hiked, the wind became stronger, bringing downright frigid temperatures sweeping across the terrain.

After seven miles, Jay began shivering, and admitted that he felt rather under the weather, with a persistent headache and deep-seated chill. Our planned destination, a back country campground at 5,000 feet in elevation, was 8 miles further. Suspiciously, I eyed the clouds wisping around us. Camping inside this fog seemed a recipe for illness.

A few days earlier, on Half Miles’s PCT notes, Jay had read about a place called The Rock Inn, a restaurant and bar that also rented a few upstairs rooms. We had discussed stopping there, but decided it sounded rather noisy, since it advertised live music every night.

But now, with chilled water spitting on us from clammy clouds, and Jay shiveringly miserable, it seemed time to reconsider. I checked the map, and realized we were only one mile from the road leading to this possible oasis of warmth. I checked my phone, and was delighted to find that I had coverage! I called the inn, and confirmed that they not only had room, but tonight was acoustic night, guaranteed, the lady told me, to be quieter than usual!

So Jay and I turned off the PCT at Hughes Lake Road, committing ourselves to a two mile road walk in hopes of finding warm shelter and hot food at the other end.

The Rock Inn, completely built of stone, provided a private room with a double bed, a shared bathroom, laundry, and a restaurant full of delicious food. The owner and waitresses were exceptionally friendly, encouraging us to choose our own room, then helpfully packing food to be carried upstairs for a quiet meal. I felt as if I had walked through a time warp, transitioning so suddenly from bone-chilling wind-swept countryside to old-fashioned, paint-chipped, luxurious comfort.

A postcard shows the incredible rock work that gave the Rock Inn its name. On this chilly night, the bar and restaurant were busy, but the upstairs had only ourselves and two other thru-hikers, a couple from Hong Kong.

The Hike Continues

April 29, 2018

We were awake and packing our tent at 6:30 a.m., surrounded by many other hikers engaged in the same activity. Weeks on the trail had conditioned us to rise with the sun, even when camping at a hiker hostel.

Two early morning hours passed quickly at Hiker Heaven. We recharged our phones and talked with other hikers. I introduced one hiker, Special K, to the delights of eating corn chips spread with butter. “Oh, if my friends could see me now!” she exclaimed. “Hiker health food!”

The 8:30 a.m. shuttle carried us to the well stocked Agua Dulce General Store, where we bought breakfast and supplies for the next few days. To make up for my pre-breakfast “health food” snack, our morning town meal was the epitome of healthy; a salad of spinach, goat cheese, boiled eggs, and avocado, with blueberry yogurt for desert.

We sat at tables on the porch of the general store while we ate and organized our food, talking with locals and other hikers. Time flew by as we shared hiker stories until, at 1:00 p.m., the sun, at its zenith, began signaling that it was more than past time for us to get hiking!

Accompanied by a cool mid-day breeze, we set off through 2.5 miles of town, heading for the hills. Two miles later, still surrounded by civilization, I found myself in desperate need of a toilet. Frantically, I scanned the surrounding houses and buildings. I knew I wasn’t going to last another half mile to the relative privacy of trailside bushes. Fortunately, the Shepherd of the Hills Church had open doors and friendly people who gladly let us use their restrooms. I am forever grateful to these cordial and gracious people, and their open door policy!

Once out of town, we enjoyed views of clouds, hills, and bushes while the trail gained altitude.

A hiker named King Kong, from South Korea, took our picture at a bend in the trail.

The trail gained the ridge top, but kept on climbing. The cool wind, so welcome in Agua Dulce, became a bit insistent, prompting me to wear warm hat and coat.

On top of the ridge, but still climbing.

After climbing 2,300 feet, we finally dropped over the ridge edge, meeting a few welcoming groves of live oak trees. Many old cow patties attested to the shelter provided by these trees. The view was spectacular, miles of bushes and oaks, with not another tent in sight. Gratefully, we pitched our own tent and turned in for the night, a nearby screech owl sending us to sleep with an unusual lullaby.

April 30, 2018

Gray sky put a definite tinge of humidity in the cold, early morning breeze. The trail wound around the sides of hills, occasionally crossing a ridge top, sometimes diving through an oak grove. Poodle dog bush and poison oak abounded, slowing our progress often as we stepped carefully to avoid these plants.

6:00 p.m. brought us near San Francisquito Canyon Road. Beyond it, the trail headed uphill again, with no feasible campsites for several miles. A hiker hostel named Casa de la Luna offered shelter and companionship just a couple of miles down the road. But after 15 miles of hiking, all I truly wanted was a flat spot out of the wind. Hiker Heaven and Agua Dulce had given us plenty of companionship, and we were still enjoying our solitude. We found a flat bit of dry creek bed at the bottom of a very short sandy draw and quickly put up the tent, appreciative of the shelter from ever present gusts of chilled air.

Groves of live oaks occasionally appeared over the edge of a ridge today.

Agua Dulce and Vasquez Rocks

April 28, 2018

Happy birdsong woke us at daybreak, and we were on the trail by 6:30 a.m., hiking out of Mattox Creek Canyon in the cool of the morning. We passed a great deal of poodle dog bush in bloom. This plant, endemic to southern California, flourishes for a few years after a forest fire. Pretty as it is, we were careful to avoid touching it, as it can cause a serious rash.

Poodle dog bush. Pretty, but dangerous!

We consumed the last of our food at breakfast, eaten in early sunshine at the top of the canyon. Two tablespoons of peanut butter and a handful of mixed raisins, nuts, and pumpkin seeds would have to last us three and a half miles until we reached a KOA at Soledad Canyon Road.

The trail circled up and over and around dry ridges until suddenly diving over the edge to descend into Soledad Canyon. At the KOA, we bought more breakfast, and lunch to go, while we watched a crowd of Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts assemble for morning instructions, then mingle. About a dozen more thru-hikers arrived as we ate our second breakfast, until the porch of the store was crowded with packs.

Nine miles later, we hiked into Vasquez Rocks Natural Area Park. This 932 acre park has a rare beauty. The rocks are mostly made of coarse-grained conglomerate and breccia sediments. Their fantastical shapes were formed by active fault uplift combined with rapid erosion of the San Gabriel Mountains. Many films have been set here, including several episodes of Star Trek.

Jay and I enjoyed our walk through this whimsical land. A few pictures might show it better than my words.

The PCT enters Vasquez Rocks Natural Area Park.

Jay stands beside a wall of layered stone.

Cliff and tree bring grace and beauty together.

Tilted rocks provide a background for a yucca in bloom.

A mile and a half after leaving this fanciful landscape, Jay and I walked into the small town of Agua Dulce. This town has a wonderful grocery store, but is too small to support a hotel.

For the last 20+ years, lodging for hikers has been provided by the Saufley family, on their land, nicknamed Hiker Heaven. There is a suggested donation of $20 per person and a limit of two nights. This money doesn’t begin to cover the ‘luxuries’ provided for hikers!

The Saufleys are incredibly organized, with showers, shelves of loaner clothes, several rented porta potties, chairs for relaxing, a kitchen open to hiker use, and a spacious yard for tenting.

Jay and I set up our tent, took showers, then caught the shuttle back to town to get dinner at the local Mexican restaurant, Casa Bonita. What a treat, to be clean, eat delicious food, then toddle back to our tent for the night!

The moon shone over twenty-six tents that night.

Packs are hung neatly at the organized Hiker Heaven.

They’re fast, and they’re deadly!

April 26, 2018

In late afternoon, descending a dry, exposed section of trail, I was startled by a rattling sound, behind me, approaching fast. Adrenaline flooded my body as I jumped to one side, just in time for a bicycle to whiz past, inches from my pack! Terrified and outraged, I managed to yell to the back of the receding cyclist, “You don’t belong here!”

The PCT is closed to all wheeled vehicles. There are some parts of the trail where a bicycle could cause serious danger to hikers. Closing the trail to mountain bikes helps to protect fragile trail tread as well as provide a unique, safe place for hikers and equestrians.

As I continued hiking, and my heart rate slowly returned to normal, I fantasized of things I could have done. My fantasies ranged from throwing rocks at the bicycle wheels (perhaps a bit violent) to haranguing the hapless cyclist in my best teacher voice (definitely less violent).

Later, when I caught up with Jay, we discussed possible actions that would be safe for us as well as good for the cyclists.

The PCTA and the US Forest Service make the rules of trail use pretty clear!

April 28, 2018

Two days later, we heard another bicycle coming down the trail. Since we were together, and not quite as startled as last time, Jay and I spread out, effectively blocking the narrow path. The cyclist slowed to a stop, probably puzzling over the sight of two grubby hikers grinning at him as if he were a much anticipated Christmas present. We’d had a lot of time to think of what we should say to cyclists on the PCT. But now that we had our chance, how to start?

I took the conversational plunge. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, enjoying the trail,” the young man replied.

“But you’re on wheels.” My hands made circling motions.

“And you’re on foot.” The cyclist didn’t get my point.

“And you’re illegal,” Jay joined the conversation.

A look of impatience crossed the young man’s face. “Oh, we’re all illegal sometime. Look at the cars on the freeway going 80 mph. I’m sure you’ve been out there breaking the speed limit.”

“Actually, no, I don’t speed. I stick to 55 mph,” Jay grinned.

“Oh, you’re THAT one,” the cyclist began.

I interrupted him, “Yes, and it saves lots of gas that way.”

The young man turned and grinned at me, diverted from his rant. “That’s true! Especially if you drive a Prius! Do you have a Prius? What do you drive?”

I shook my head, and Jay spoke. “We don’t have a car at the moment.”

This was beyond the cyclist’s comprehension. “What do you mean? How did you get here?”

“We walked,” Jay grinned.

“You walked.” The cyclist sounded impatient again. “Where did you walk from?”

Oh, how we love that question! Jay’s grinned broadened as he gave our favorite one word answer. “Mexico.”

“What?!!” The cyclist turned towards me. I nodded vigorously. “Well, I am impressed,” he conceded.

Jay, pressing our advantage, explained more. “This is the Pacific Crest Trail, 2,640 miles from Mexico to Canada. It was planned and built for hikers and equestrians. You see, there are so few trails reserved just for walkers. People come from all over the world to walk the PCT. It’s kind of like a sanctuary to us. When we see a bicycle tearing down the trail, it ruins the experience.”

The cyclist slowly edged his bicycle around us. “Well, I just moved here. I’ve never heard of the Pacific Rim Trail. But now I know.”

“There’s lots of dirt roads in this area,” I contributed helpfully. “You can ride for miles on them.”

“Well, thanks. Good luck on your hike.” The cyclist prepared to push off.

“Take care,” we replied, parting amicably. Maybe we had helped one cyclist think a bit.

April 30, 2018

Today much of the trail wound around the hillsides, taking sharp corners and carrying us across steep, slippery slopes.

At one point, the terrain flattened, and the trail meandered between groves of live oak trees accented with green grass and small bushes.

Jay and I were enjoying the change of pace, when suddenly we saw two bicycles headed towards us on the path. We spread out, hoping to slow the cyclists and talk with them.

I was ahead of Jay, so I held out my hands in the classic ‘stop’ signal. The cyclists did slow down, and the second man actually got off his bike. The first man just steered slowly around me, since the trail wasn’t steep at that point.

“Do you know where you are?” I asked the first man, turning as he passed me.

“Yeah, we’re on the PCT,” the man replied.

“Bicycles are not allowed here,” I exclaimed indignantly. I turned to the second man as he approached. “There are places on this trail where it is very dangerous for bicycles to meet hikers,” I tried to explain.

“I’m just following my friend,” the man said apologetically as he walked his bike around me and mounted again. “He says we only have another mile before hooking up with a road again.”

Just then I heard the first cyclist telling Jay, “Hey, I’ve done a lot of trail maintenance out here.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Jay replied, but it was a futile effort, the man was already past, heading down the trail.

Jay and I felt frustrated from this encounter. The first man knew he was breaking the rules and did it anyway! I wanted to tell him, “So you’re being a jerk by not having the courtesy of listening to us, AND you’re being an idiot by cycling here when you know the rules!” But I suppose calling him names wouldn’t have helped anything. Regarding the second man, Jay later thought of an appropriate quote from the TV show, Lonesome Dove. “You ride with him, you hang with him!”

We’ll keep trying to be cordial and informative. We don’t want to be judgemental (even though we might feel it inside!), we want to help others see the hiker point of view.

Much of the PCT is not conducive or safe for sharing with wheeled vehicles!

P.S. If you are a mountain biker, know that I think there is a place and time for that exciting sport. But if you are a mountain biker who feels that you have a right to be on the PCT, well, you do … just leave your bike at home!