Westward with the Silver Moccasin

April 24, 2018

The PCT has taken a westward turn, and joined the Silver Moccasin Trail at Vincent Gap on Hwy 2. Named in 1942 by the Boy Scouts of America, this trail was created and used first by Native Americans, then settlers. This section of the PCT, in 1968, became a new designation of an old trail.

Mt Baden-Powell was our first event of the day. Named for Lord Baden-Powell, founder of the Boy Scouts, the trail took us to 9,399 feet in elevation, using gently sloping switchbacks.

Near the top, a delightful sight greeted us. A 1,500 year old limber pine, named for another Boy Scout, Wally Waldron, stood on the edge of the final ridge leading to the peak of the mountain.

Roots exposed, this ancient tree inspires awe!

On the top, we met Kristof, a PCT hiker from Germany.

“Isn’t this incredible?” I asked. “Sunshine, no wind, a view for miles. What do you think of this mountain?”

“Yes, it’s nice,” Kristof’s face was reserved. “But it is too…” his hands waved as he groped for the correct word. “Not clear.”

“Hazy,” I suggested.

“Smoggy,” Jay supplied.

We looked again at the view. Los Angeles was somewhere out there. But we had no expectations of seeing the city. We were just glad to be above the smog, happy in the crystal air.

On top of Mt Baden-Powell with incredibly beautiful weather!

The Boy Scouts placed a monument on top of the mountain with a quote from Lord Baden-Powell. Upon reading the words, I thought, ‘If only all children could learn in this way! And what a cool description of the inner workings and learnings of a thru-hiker!’

The Scout training is effected by encouraging the boy through his own enthusiasm to develop himself as an efficient citizen, to create his own character and his individual self-discipline from within. This is education.

-Robert Baden-Powell, July 4, 1916

The trail continued up and down along ridges for many miles. Near dinner time, we came to Little Jimmy Spring, a welcome source of clear, cold water.

Soon after the spring, Jay stopped and pointed to several white-headed woodpeckers checking tree trunks for their own dinner!

Our last mountain of the day, Mt Williamson, set over-worked muscles to protesting. As we climbed, we were enchanted to see manzanita bushes, heavy with flowers, lining the path. Each set of bushes hosted a pair of hummingbirds, busy flitting in and out between branches and blossoms.

As evening tiptoed towards night, we found a flat spot on a small ridge edge halfway down Mt Williamson. A beautiful end to a very long and eventful day.

P.S. Many people have commented on my shoes while hiking. However, when a hummingbird buzzed my feet today, I had to admit – perhaps these shoes are a bit bright!

April 25, 2018

We hiked through several elevations today, too high and dry for many flowers, but saw different pine trees, each kind in its own elevation niche.

April 26, 2018

Today was notable for three large black and yellow butterflies (perhaps a type of swallowtail), a spotted towhee, a lizard willing to pose for the camera, and many beautiful wildflowers.

April 27, 2018

We chose to eat breakfast at a clearing on a hillside. While there, a hummingbird with an electric green back hovered in front of us, switching its tail back and forth, wings a blur of motion. We watched, enchanted, as it hovered for a few seconds, then darted away.

At lunch time, we stopped in the shade of an enormous live oak tree. A raven sat above us, making rhythmic sounds, not croaks or caws, just noises. Jay said it sounded like temple blocks. I felt we were being entertained with a percussion concert!

Sometime today I realized that the PCT was no longer sharing space with the Silver Moccasin Trail. In fact, the two trails had diverged at Three Points, several miles ago. I did enjoy feeling as if we were sharing Scouting history while the trails had been joined.

This evening we camped in Mattox Creek Canyon, on a flat sandbar. No water in the creek, but many birds and trees made this a lovely campsite. A couple from Germany, Thomas and Katrin, chose a nearby sandbar for their tent.

Two ravens had a great deal to say as we put up our tent and ate dinner. I’m sure they were commenting on the possibilities of stealing food from that group of two-leggers! As the evening progressed (and no food for birds materialized), the two ravens flew high above us, playing with the winds coming off the canyon rim. As I brushed my teeth, I watched shadows creep up the canyon wall while birds called good night.

Only 28 Miles…

April 21, 2018

I staggered away from Cajon Pass with nine pounds of liquid in my backpack – four liters of water and a pint of sweet tea! According to the map, the next reliable water was 28 miles away, at Grassy Hollow Visitors Center, just past the turn off for the town of Wrightwood, CA.

Usually, a liter of water will last me five to six miles. But today, the sun beat upon our heads as the trail followed ridge after ridge without a smidgen of shade. I drank two liters in the first five miles.

Fortunately, at Swarthout Canyon, trail angels kept a water cache filled with gallon jugs of water. Jay and I gratefully filled our empty liters, then sat in the shade of a California sycamore tree for an hour as the heat of the day passed. We talked with another PCT hiker named Papa Bear. The three of us were amazed to learn that our homes in Nevada are only ten miles apart!

One thousand feet higher and several miles later we set up camp on the shoulder of a mountain. The sun glowed orange fire, spreading its glory across the evening sky. I knew I was blessed to be out here at such a time.

April 22, 2018

Golden beams of light woke us as the sun lingered on the horizon, scattering colors across the landscape.

A spotted towhee sat on a branch, his feathers glowing in the sunlight. His head tilted towards the sky, and he let out a call, “tweeeeeeee!”

Later, as we were hiking, a northern flicker took wing from the top of a giant pine, gliding across a cleft between two mountain sides. The red shafts of its wing feathers glowed orange in the morning light.

At lunch, I shared my pint of sweet tea with Jay. Such a treat on a hot day! Our packs were getting lighter as we drank the pounds of water we’d been carrying.

We hiked for much of the day through an old burn. Burned pineapples dotted the landscape. Wait, what??? No, these were the bodies of yucca plants, with leaves singed off, only a tuft poking from each top.

Burned pineapples? No, just singed yucca!

In one cleft, many large trees had been burned from trunk to tree top. New growth was sprouting along the branches, giving each limb a slight fuzzy green covering.

Burned trees showing new growth along branches.

Jay and I were curious, what kind of tree were these? We examined the new pine needles, but were no wiser.

“If only we could see a cone, that would tell us!” I exclaimed in frustration. With charred ground underfoot, a pine cone seemed unlikely.

We kept hiking, and came around another corner, finding more of the same trees, slightly less burned. Eagerly I scanned the ground, and felt as if I had won the lottery when I spied an unburned cone! Jay and I looked at it, seeing the distinctive feature of exserted trident-shaped bracts, or “mouse tails”, disappearing into each cone scale. “Douglas fir!” Jay exclaimed. He looked it up, and found that this area grows a variety called bigcone Douglas-fir. We were amazed and delighted to have the mystery solved.

April 23, 2018

Today was a town day. We reached Hwy 2 at 7:30 a.m. The first car to pass stopped to give us a ride! Kyle, an enthusiastic hiker, kindly dropped us at the grocery store in downtown Wrightwood, CA. After repeatedly thanking him, we eagerly went inside to buy breakfast.

The town of Wrightwood was one of the best organized hiker towns I’d ever seen. The grocery store had umbrella-shaded tables at which hikers could eat and organize their resupplies. Next to the tables were charging stations for phones and other electronics. Just down the street, the hardware store was a cross between an outdoor equipment store and a place to buy tools, paint, etc. Behind the store was a back deck where hikers could sit and chat. The checkout counter had a list of a dozen locals who would host hikers for a night. We talked to a few hikers and some locals. We considered trying to stay the night with a host family, but finally decided to keep hiking.

Next to the hardware store was the post office. Jay and I picked up new shoes we had ordered on line, then headed back to the grocery store.

We bought food for the next section of our hike, then bought lunch from the deli inside the store. Many people stopped to talk, and it was quite a while before we were ready to leave.

Just as we were saying goodbye and heading towards the street, two men who had been quietly eating lunch called out, “Heading back to the trail? If you have 15 minutes to spare, we can take you when we finish eating.”

Jay and I didn’t need a second invitation! We happily sat down again, and got to know our new trail angels. Brad and Steve were very friendly, and kept us laughing with jokes about hiking. When Jay told them that we were such slow hikers, we had been passed by a worm while hiking the Appalachian Trail, Brad responded thoughtfully, “It’s all in your perspective. You know what the snail said when he boarded the turtle’s back?”

“I don’t have a clue!” I confessed.

“Wheeeee!” Brad grinned. And, still laughing, we climbed into their car for a ride back to the PCT.

Wheee!

Thank you so very much, Brad and Steve!

Wind Shy

April 18, 2018

“Let’s take it a bit easier today.” Jay and I agreed. After hiking until dusk yesterday, setting up camp early sounded wonderful.

A few steps down the trail, Jay pointed out a great blue heron. I watched, enchanted, as it wheeled overhead and flew off, great wings flapping slowly.

About a mile later, we crossed a road and were greeted by two hikers in a camper van.

“I know it’s early, but would you like a soda?” 2taps asked. Jman introduced himself from inside the van. We chatted for a few minutes, talking hikes while Jay and I shared a Mountain Dew. Properly buzzed on caffeine and sugar, and happy from meeting two friendly hikers, we wished them good hiking and continued.

Jman and 2taps dispensing trail magic

We walked over and between rounded hillsides dotted with old burned tree branches and the new growth of bush poppies in bloom.

The trail crossed under Cedar Springs Dam, then climbed above Silverwood Lake. We enjoyed the view of blue water and sandy beaches for several miles, mostly high above, once dipping very near the water.

As afternoon progressed, the wind began to rise. At 4:30 p.m., we stopped to get water from a creek and assess our position. We had hiked about 15 miles today, and it was time to find a campsite. However, a wind storm was forecast for tonight and all of tomorrow. Ever since our adventure coming down from Fuller’s Ridge, I had no desire to walk through another gale. (See my post, ‘Wind!’) But I liked even less the thought of a long night with wind beating against our tent.

“The trail will be headed uphill from here. It might be hard to find a sheltered campsite,” Jay counseled. “Tomorrow the wind might be worse.”

“I don’t see much shelter here. Let’s go on while there’s still daylight,” I urged. “I’d rather be hiking than worrying about wind ripping the tent. If we see a good spot, we can stop.”

We knew it was possible that we might have to hike another 13 miles to the Best Western hotel at I-15, at Cajon Pass. At our pace, we’d arrive at midnight. With memories of our ordeal down Fuller’s Ridge, we decided to hike a bit smarter this time. We pulled Larabars and dark chocolate bars out of our food bags. This evening’s hike would be fueled with carbohydrates, eaten once per hour. We also agreed to stop once every 30 minutes for water.

On we forged. Unlike our last storm adventure, this time the trail sometimes followed the lee side of a ridge, giving us an occasional respite from the cold, battering wind. Dark descended, and we kept climbing, using our flashlights. Stars peeked from above. The familiar constellations of Orion, Taurus, and the Pleides brought comfort.

I began to lag behind a bit, legs protesting against the long day of use. Suddenly, in the dark, I noticed Jay ahead of me, standing very still, flashlight focused on the ground ahead. He turned and smiled as I cautiously approached.

“You’re just in time to see the end of it,” he remarked. Puzzled, I looked at his flashlight beam, and glimpsed a couple of inches of shiny scales disappearing into the undergrowth.

“A snake?” I guessed. Jay nodded. “Was it big?”

“Probably about four feet. It was crossing the trail. It didn’t seem bothered by my light. It wasn’t a rattlesnake. It had black and white bands.”

Later we looked up snakes of southern California and concluded that Jay had been privileged to see a king snake, so-called due to their resistance to rattlesnake venom, and their ability to dine upon other snakes.

About 9:00 p.m., we noticed the wind was growing softer. By now we were 400 feet below the top of our climb. It was tempting to continue, to see the lights of the freeway below. However, when we saw a flat sandy space near a few sheltering bushes, we decided to stop for the night, while we were still on the lee side. My feet and legs had been aching for a few miles, and Jay admitted he was beginning to feel his tendons protesting.

We set up camp, weighting the tent stakes with rocks, gladly crawling into our fabric home. Train whistles blew through Cajon Pass, just a few miles away. Wind alternately whined and roared through power lines high above us, but only tendrils from the largest gusts reached our tent.

I lay, warm, stretching tired muscles, happy, but unable to stop shivering. What was wrong? Perhaps it was the last four hours of carbohydrates I had been consuming. Great for an athletic event, but not so good for relaxing. Jay was also wide awake. Perhaps some cheese would give our stomachs something to do. We ate a few ounces, and sure enough, the shivering began to abate. I gratefully let tense muscles go, quickly falling asleep after hiking 24.8 miles.

April 19, 2018

A glorious sunrise brought us awake. We packed up in the rising wind, happy in the knowledge that breakfast was just 4.5 miles away at the hotel.

A few minutes up the trail, we met two gold prospectors unloading their truck. They were surprised to see us. “My gosh, did you sleep up here?”

We, in turn, were intrigued with their hobby. Hard to imagine getting up before sunrise just for the fun of hauling shovels and bins to the desert in hopes of finding gold. Wishing them “good luck,” we hiked on.

The whole force of the wind met us at the summit. An incredible scene of eroded sandstone cliffs leading down to a far away highway stopped us in wonder.

Jay cautiously looks over the edge. Amazing!

The trail snaked around the cliffs, eventually diving over the edge. I was delighted to be hiking this in daylight, even with wind pushing us back and forth. I felt we had hiked into an exotic postcard.

The last mile followed a creek flowing between cliffs, out the mouth of Crowder Canyon. Beauty surrounded us with sparkling water, gray cliffs, level path, and breakfast, showers, and a bed awaiting.

Deep Creek

April 17, 2018

Southern California continues to delight as we hike. During the last eight days, we’ve hiked through the Mission Creek drainage, into the town of Big Bear Lake where we enjoyed three days of rest, then on through the Holcomb Creek drainage.

This morning began with azure sky and a blessed cease in the wind. We found a sunny niche in a pile of boulders for breakfast. Just as we were finishing, three hikers came around the corner.

“Oh! Are you hiking the PCT?”

The three women laughed as we confirmed their guess. “We have something for you!”

Raquel, Tanya, and Lori had decided to give out trail magic on their hike today. They handed us two cutie tangerines and two ziplock baggies with homemade lemon and white chocolate chip cookies!

Encouraging words adorned the ziplock bags. “You can do it!” “I’m proud of you!”

What a delicious and thoughtful treat, and the conversation with three enthusiastic hikers provided even more fun!

Thank you Tanya, Lori, and Raquel!

Our breakfast trail angels told us there was water cached at the Splinter’s Cabin trailhead. When we crossed the bridge spanning Deep Creek, we obediently turned left towards the trailhead, taking a small detour to fill water bottles. Once again, thank you to the trail angels!

Deep Creek bridge

The trail followed Deep Creek all day, clinging to the canyon wall, often far above the creek.

Warm weather and calm air brought out many birds. A spotted towhee flicked from tree branch to bush, letting out a short twee-twee-twee-trrrrrr!

The trail took a turn around a steep slope, and on a tree trunk below me I spied a Nuttall’s woodpecker, the red patch on its head flashing an attention-getting signal.

As I hiked, I could hear the song of the wrentit, a musical ping pong ball bouncing slow, slow, fast, fast, faster, fastest!

Along a wide ridge, Jay and I were stopped by the sight of a live oak tree full of orangy-red catkins. These conspicuous male flowers make pollen for the tiny female flowers nestled in forks of twigs higher in the trees.

Amazing load of catkins on this live oak tree!

A rock wren said hello as we paused to admire some boulders in a shady cleft of the canyon. The sun was heating the land. A turkey vulture swooped by, then turned and circled lower over us. Hmm, I didn’t think we smelled that bad! One can’t fool a vulture’s nose, though. A few minutes later, as we passed a short cliff, a baby rattlesnake startled me. As it slithered through a bush and up the rocks, Jay encouraged me to take its picture.

Only a baby rattler – about eight inches long, and heading away from me!

Baby blue eyes, lupine, desert indian paintbrush, and poisonous poodle dog bush often lined the path. Jay and I joked about “doing the poodle dance” as we contorted our bodies and legs around this desert menace.

baby blue eyes

We stopped at Willow Creek, a tributary of Deep Creek, filling water bottles and enjoying the shade of numerous California sycamore trees. Another hiker paused as he saw us. “Have we passed the hot springs yet?” We assured him that delight was still to come, and he continued, after taking our picture at this beautiful spot.

Sandy beach, granite boulders, shady sycamores … who needs a hot spring?

A couple miles later, we did, indeed, see the hot springs. Dozens of people were wandering along the shore of Deep Creek, obviously enjoying this oasis of comfort. It is a popular spot for locals and PCT hikers. A man with a deep tan and gray hair passed us, wearing only a mini-skirt and a day pack. I was suddenly seized with shyness. I had everything I needed right on my back. Did I really want to go talk to a bunch of strangers? “It won’t bother me if we just keep going. I don’t mind missing this side trip,” I suggested to Jay. He agreed, and we kept walking.

Afternoon turned to early evening. A raven sported along the canyon rim, riding updrafts as sun and lengthening shadows brought breezes into play.

We crossed Deep Creek again, over an arched bridge set into rock on either side. I was ready to find a campsite, but the trail had other ideas. Following steep canyon walls, just under the rim, the trail ranged from four inches to four feet in width. “It’s kind of like hiking along the side of a curtain,” Jay remarked. I agreed, as I tried not to look down at beautiful sandy campsites beside the creek hundreds of feet below us.

I looked ahead. The trail heaved in and out, miles of cliffs undulating into the distance. Good campsite terrain it was not!

A canyon wren began its melodic downward spiral song, singing the sun to the canyon rim. We kept hiking, enjoying the evening coolness. As the miles progressed and my legs and feet began to ache, I began eyeing every tiny flat spot, calculating whether our tent would fit or not.

The canyon mouth came into sight, and with a sigh of relief we crossed the Mojave River Forks Dam. I began hopefully eyeing a line of willows and sycamores beside Deep Creek. Sure enough, just as evening deepened to dusk, Jay found a sheltered nook. I hung our food bags from an accommodating willow tree and brushed my teeth by the light of a two day old moon and Venus in a purple sky. Jay later told me that he heard a beaver gnawing on twigs during the night, but after 18 miles, I heard nothing once my head hit my sleeping pad!

Encounter on Whitewater River

April 8, 2018

We left the town of Banning, grateful for the respite civilization had offered. Showers, comfortable bed, clean clothes – all brought cheer to my outlook!

A small Hispanic convenience store with a fabulous deli in the back also helped our recovery yesterday. Huge chorizo burritos and homemade guacamole filled our stomachs while the atmosphere gave us a delightful cultural experience.

Today our route crossed the valley floor, then began climbing into Gold Canyon. The Mesa Windmill Farm perched on the first ridge above the valley, taking advantage of the constant winds streaming through the San Gorgonio Pass. Next to the office, a small pavilion and free bottles of water were a very welcome oasis on this hot, shadeless section. Though it was a little early for lunch, Jay and I, with three other hikers, took the shade as a sign to eat.

The only shade within several miles, thanks to the generosity of the Mesa Wind Farm office!

The trail continued upwards, reaching the top of Gold Canyon, then following the edge of Teutang Canyon. Green covered the ground, with beautiful flowers asking to be admired. The blossoms of pink prickly pear cactus stole the show, though I was delighted with many yellow, purple, and white flowers, including desert chia. (Native Americans used this flower’s seeds long before chia became popular.)

The trail followed Teutang Canyon for a while, then began a series of switchbacks down a precipitous drop to the Whitewater River. On the floor of the canyon, we rounded a corner and met a Native American man with long graying hair in two braids, accompanied by a woman companion, both enjoying the shade cast by the canyon wall.

We stopped to chat.

“Hiking the PCT, are you?” the man asked.

We nodded in agreement.

“That’s good! We’re Earthlings. We were made to walk the Earth,” the man smiled.

“That’s an interesting way to look at it,” I observed, “to be Earthlings, born to walk.”

“Yes!” The man’s face lit up. “Think about it. The happiest day of your parents’ life was when you took your first step! They celebrated, they called all their friends, they talked about it for days! It’s a day they remember forever. Yes, first step, and first word! That’s what we’re supposed to do – walk and talk.”

He was silent a moment, then continued, looking directly at me. “Enjoy this Earth. Search your heart. Do good things. Use good words. Keep walking the Earth.”

“Yes, we will,” I replied.

His face creased into a grin. “Peace be to you. Ya-t-hey, ya-t-hey.”

“And to you,” I responded as we turned to keep walking.

Wind!

April 6, 2018

The wind whirled above while we slept peacefully in a protected spot at Strawberry Camp Tentsite, high in the San Jacinto Mtns. Little did we know what the wind was bringing as we slumbered!

Morning dawned with blue skies, the sun sparkling through pines across the ridge top. Spectacular views lured us to walk slowly, stopping often to look out across steep drop offs as the trail meandered along the top of the ridges.

We stopped to fill and treat water from a spouting stream, the headwaters of the North Fork of the San Jacinto River. It boggled my mind to think of this cheerful dancing rivulet flowing 42 miles, collecting more streams but never reaching the Pacific Ocean, instead emptying into Lake Elsinore, a part of the land-locked Great Basin.

Collecting water from the headwaters of the San Jacinto River.

The wind, a cold and persistent presence all day, gained even more power in the afternoon. We were descending Fuller Ridge, hiking miles and miles of switchbacks, making our way down the armpit of the mountain slope. This half circle in the landscape caught the wind in a giant eddy, swirling around us, sending me staggering across the path, first one way, then another.

As evening loomed, we found a flat spot, partly protected by bushes. Jay laid out the tent, pounding stakes deep into the soil. As we lifted the roof of the tent, a gust gleefully ripped tent stakes out of the ground, turning our shelter into a sail.

We consulted the map and decided to hike on, hoping the tent site in half a mile would provide more shelter. It was a vain hope. As we rounded the slope, the wind whipped wildly across the landscape, threatening to shred any fabric we might try to put up. We kept hiking.

A mile later, with dusk taking serious hold of the day, we came upon another campsite, slightly sheltered with a couple of boulders. Once again we laid out the tent. This time Jay weighted our tent stakes with huge hunks of rock. The wind teasingly backed off long enough for us to get both tent poles inserted, then, with a powerful puff of air, lifted the tent like a balloon, trailing tent stakes wildly behind.

We decided to dig out our flashlights and keep on hiking. Jay saw several rats. Twice I spied fat mice scurrying across the dark trail. Then one mouse ran straight up a boulder beside my shoulder. I am convinced that rodents know no fear, and these mice exemplified that opinion.

Suddenly, around a corner, my flashlight beam caught the form of a three foot yellow rattlesnake. I stopped, hoping the light would scare the snake. Unfortunately, he didn’t stop, slithering down the trail as if he owned it. I backed up, bumping into Jay.

“What is it?” Jay asked.

“S-s-s-snake!” I stuttered, my hands flapping in agitation, my feet trying to levitate me off the trail completely.

“Do you want me to go first?” Jay asked kindly.

I didn’t want either of us to go, but since Jay was volunteering, I cravenly stepped behind him.

The snake continued its chosen course toward us. We hugged the outer edge of the trail, our heels hanging in space as we strove to let the rattler have most of the path. As the snake came upwind, it suddenly smelled us, and let out a warning rattle. Despite the fact that the snake was behind me, my feet took charge of my body and began running. Jay didn’t run, which quickly caused a collision between us. I wanted to ask, “Why aren’t you running?” But Jay already knew my status as a scaredy-cat. The Dutch saying, “een kat in het nauw maakt rare sprongen” (a threatened cat makes odd jumps), definitely described me at the moment!

After descending 8,070 ft, we passed a water faucet at the base of the mountain. Several hikers were cowboy camped on the pavement, gear strewn nearby. We continued, hoping to find shelter from the wind. The further we progressed on the valley floor, the stronger the wind became. By now it was near gale force, beating against us incessantly.

At 11:00 p.m., after hiking 23.5 miles, we gave up and lay down in a sandy ditch with just our sleeping bags. The wind could have been jet engines roaring overhead. It pulled and tugged at my sleeping bag, threatening to sail away with it, but I tucked the edges firmly around me and just dared that wind to part us! It was a long seven hours until sunrise, and I didn’t get much sleep, but at least my legs got to rest.

April 7, 2018

I viewed the sunrise through sleep deprived, sand-crusted eyes. Gladly I shook the sand out of my sleeping bag. Only 2.7 miles to Interstate 10 and civilization!

An hour and a half later, Jay and I were hitching a ride to Banning, CA. A school principal with the trail name of Anonymous dropped us at a Travelodge. It was truly amazing how, once again, our circumstances had swung from peril to luxury in a matter of hours!

Many Ways to Scale the San Jacintos

April 2, 2018

At the top of the San Jacinto Mtns, a nine mile section of the PCT has been closed since a fire swept through in 2013. Fire is a very real presence in the forests of the arid West, and affects many sections of the PCT. This first closure for north-bound thru-hikers presents several choices for negotiating around the nine missing miles of trail.

Discussions began at the Paradise Cafe, one mile off the PCT on Hwy 74. Hikers congregated at this oasis, eating delicious hamburgers and tossing plans around. The fire closure sits high on top of the mountains, 17.5 miles from the cafe. Some hikers chose to skip the whole section, hitching a ride down Hwy 74 to the town of Idyllwild where they could access the PCT via several side trails. Other hikers decided to continue hiking the trail, heading towards the mountain ridges, getting closer to the actual PCT closure at the Spitler Peak Trail junction.

Jay and I had already discussed our hiking strategy for this trip. We liked the idea of leaving a continuous set of footprints whenever feasible. This particular PCT fire closure had several hiking alternatives, so our route continued up the PCT.

Jay hikes through Penrod Canyon.

We hiked 12.6 miles today, first through Penrod Canyon with giant granite boulders, then we climbed steadily higher into the San Jacintos, walking through miles of drought tolerant shrubs and bushes. In the early evening, a side trail led us off the ridge line, down and around the mountain slope to a protected pocket of towering cedar trees fed by a crystal clear spring. The back country campsite of Cedar Springs was an oasis of comfort, and I happily fell asleep to the hooting of a very loud great horned owl!

April 3, 2018

Sunrise!

We woke to a glorious sunrise with beams of light slanting between cedar trunks still harboring dawn’s shadows.

Five miles up the trail we came upon a group of hikers at the Fobes Ranch Trail junction. Some of the younger hikers were considering following the Fobes Ranch Trail downhill, reaching Hwy 74 in 5.5 miles, then hitch hiking to Idyllwild. They could possibly be taking a shower in comfort within four hours or less.

Jay and I continued on, heading uphill another two miles to the PCT fire closure at Spitler Peak Trail junction, leaving the hiker group still discussing strategy. Two older hikers also headed uphill, Buckwheat and Julia. About a mile later, the rest of the younger hikers passed us one by one, effectively dispelling any stereotype of younger hikers taking the easy way out!

Seven miles down hill from the Spitler Peak Trail junction lies Hurkey Creek Park and Campground, once again offering showers and a quick ride along Hwy 74 to Idyllwild.

Jay and I continued 3 more miles, finally camping near a small spring a short half mile after Spitler Peak Trail joined the Mountain Fire Alternative, a PCT route around the fire closure on the mountain two thousand feet above us.

April 4, 2018

Today is our town day, with just 4.5 miles to hike to reach Idyllwild, with showers, electricity, groceries, clean clothes, and restaurants. Hurray!

April 5, 2018

After a comfortable night, we headed back to the PCT, following the South Ridge Trail, one of several trails connecting Idyllwild to the PCT. We climbed over 4,300 feet today, most of the climb happening gently across a myriad of switchbacks.

Tahquitz Peak Fire Lookout gave a 360 degree view of the San Jacinto mountain range. With gray clouds covering the sky and a fiercely cold wind urging us on, we didn’t linger long!

Tahquitz Peak Fire Lookout

From the lookout, the trail switchbacked downhill another half mile until finally joining the PCT at the northern point of the Fire Mountain closure. We reached Strawberry Camp Tentsite just before sundown. A dozen other hikers, having used several different trails from Idyllwild to rejoin the PCT, shared the campsite. We met Buckwheat again, having last seen him on the Spitler Peak Trail. Circumventing the nine mile closure had taken us two days and 21 miles, and imposed nearly one vertical mile of elevation change.

Easter Morning and Beyond

April 1, 2018

Easter morning! I woke early, wanting to take part in the ancient tradition of greeting the sunrise. Some of my earliest memories as a child on Easter include shivering in the pre-dawn light, waiting with my family to see the fiery orange sun breach the horizon.

I sat outside the tent, trying to meditate and pray a bit, wrestling with concerns deep in my heart.

A cottontail rabbit hopped by, intent upon its own rabbit business. A bird tuned up, lifting it’s beak to the sky.

Suddenly, as the great orange orb lifted above the easternmost limit of my sight, the surrounding hillsides were bathed in streams of light and color. The illumination lasted only a moment, then the sun ducked behind a thick layer of clouds. And Easter morning was over, the hillsides turning gray-green, the wind hinting at moisture in the air, leaving only a memory of glory surrounding me. My meditation had yielded insights as brief as the sunrise. But the wonder and beauty of those few light-filled moments lingered in my heart.

We hiked under cool clouds, happy to have shade on a desert exposed trail. Just past noon, we rounded a curve and suddenly saw a huge cache of water bottles, kindly provided by Trail Angel Mary. We gladly filled our empty bottles, writing notes of thanks in the trail journal.

A sign attached to the cache announced a free Easter dinner for all hikers, served from 11:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. at Mile 145.4, just two miles away! Jay and I looked at each other. It seemed too good to be true! Should we forego our trail lunch and beat feet to some trail magic?

Being a practical person when it comes to my stomach, I voted for eating half of a trail lunch, then going for the trail magic. Jay agreed, so we quickly gobbled a partial lunch, then headed onwards, two miles from an adventure!

The smell of roasting meat provided the first clue of our imminent destination. Our stomachs growled. Nothing in the desert had ever smelled that good! Twenty minutes later we saw a sign, guarded by an Easter duck.

We turned, and saw a crowd of hikers, seated under shady canopies. Trail Angel Mary and her friends were busily cooking steaks and salmon, along with delicious vegetables, ice water, lemonade, and wine, with Viennese coffee and berry tarts for desert!

This is Jay’s fourth thru-hike, and he has never seen a feast like we had today! Trail Angel Mary planned on 20 hikers and ended up serving 45 of us. Everyone seemed to get enough to eat, and there was much sharing of food, along with laughter and visiting.

Even the dog got enough as he blissfully chewed on steak bones!

After two hours of feasting, we thanked our hosts several times and waddled away. My stomach, used to simple trail meals, thought it had died and gone to heaven. But even better than the food was the camaraderie we had enjoyed, thanks to the vision and generosity of Trail Angel Mary and her friends!

Eagle Rocks

March 30, 2018

Last night was spent on the edge of the vast grassy swath of Warner Springs Meadows. We could see for miles across the undulating grasslands. This morning, rising sunbeams gleamed on piles of white granitic rocks a half mile away. Eagle Rocks seemed to be the perfect place for breakfast!

When we reached this viewpoint, we climbed up on the stone “eagle’s” shoulder and sat, soaking in the early morning sunshine. As we quietly ate breakfast, small birds resumed their daily schedule. We watched, enchanted, as a rock wren lit upon a tall boulder, doing it’s characteristic bobbing motion. A lark sparrow from atop another stone let out a trill, throat swelling, beak tilted towards the sky. Meadow larks gave their liquid bubbling song from all around. We were surrounded by music!

Finishing breakfast, we reluctantly climbed down. At the base of the rocks, a friendly hiker named Edgar took our picture. Then we slowly headed towards the town of Warner Springs, still enjoying the symphony of bird song!

We met several day hikers headed towards Eagle Rocks. One group stopped to talk, asking the usual questions. “Are you hiking the whole PCT?” “When did you start?” “Where will you finish?”

One woman asked a surprising question. “What are you going to do about Easter while you are on the trail?”

I hesitated a moment, my thoughts going back to this morning. “Sometimes on the trail, one must take special occasions when they happen. This morning, Eagle Rocks felt like Easter! It was so beautiful, with incredible bird song. What an affirmation of life! And after all, isn’t that what Easter is about? Celebrating the triumph of love and the renewal of life.”

The lady smiled, and the group hiked on, heading to their own life-affirming experience.

Warner Springs

Just a few miles north of Eagle Rocks is the small town of Warner Springs. Mid-morning found us following signs directing PCT hikers to the community center. This place is a hiker oasis, completely run by volunteers. Amenities include charging stations for cell phones, hiker food for sale, clean restrooms, shady tent sites, and private outdoor cubicals for taking bucket showers! A volunteer can sometimes give rides to the post office, saving tired hikers two miles of walking.

The volunteers here use the proceeds from their sales to fund educational opportunities for the people in this small community. Talk about a life-affirming purpose!

As we regretfully left this haven, the trail took us along Agua Caliente Creek. Huge oaks gave welcoming shade in the hot afternoon. Bird song entertained us. Water loving flowers brightened the hike. It seemed that every part of this day gave an affirmation of life!

Now THIS Is Desert!

March 28, 2018

To leave the town of Julian, we stood in front of the post office, sticking out hopeful thumbs. A man in a truck pulled over just to assure us that we were in the right place, and he was certain we’d get a ride soon! Sure enough, Isa with her young son offered a ride down the mountain to Scissors Crossing. “We like hearing the hiker stories,” she explained.

As we stepped onto the PCT again, I felt we had crossed a portal. It was as if the visible rift of Earthquake Valley extended into the air, making an invisible barrier that moisture couldn’t breach. Bushes became skeletal sticks. Barrel cactus wore crowns of yellow buds. Ocotillo sported flame red blooms on their tips. Cholla masqueraded as fuzzy friends, only showing their spiny nature when examined closely. Prickly pear gave hints of red fruits on its edges. We even saw a couple of Joshua trees. Cactus reigned supreme between rocks and sand!

We hiked under sapphire blue sky, climbing into the San Felipe Hills. The trail contoured around ridges, above the edges of draws, in and out, back and forth. As we gained altitude, bushes and other flowers gradually returned. I knew I would be seeing more desert soon, but for now I was content with my morning in “true” desert!