Trailhacker lives!

Yesterday, after saying good-bye to Trailhacker, I drove home to Santa Barbara. I was really tired and had a hard time keeping my eyes open. When I got home I decided to take a nap. I slept for about 2 hours.

When I woke up I took a shower and puttered around the house a little. Then I considered what I should do with myself. I had the whole day, what should I do? I thought about starting some laundry and then I remembered my phone! It was sitting in the car. I went out to get it.

When I turned it on, I had a message waiting for me. It was Trailhacker. He sounded sick, his voice was weak. He said he was turning back. It was too hot and he had heat exhaustion. Now I was worried. He said he was heading for Whitewater Creek where he would spend the day, and try to hike out after it cooled off.

I hopped into the car and headed back to Cabazon. It's about 3.5 hours or so. I still was tired and still had trouble keeping my eyes open but the 3.5 hours went by fast. I reached Banning at 4:30. I decided I would get a hotel room and wait for Trailhacker to call me back. I'd have the air-conditioning on so he could come and get cooled off. I left him a message on the phone that this was my plan.

I was a little worried I had not gotten any more calls after the first one. I got my hotel room and sat and waited for him to call. I waited a few hours and still no call. I thought maybe I should send him a text message and let him know I was here. Immediately after sending the message, I received one from him that he had made it to Whitewater and was spending the day sitting in the water. I thought it was actually in reply to my message, so I replied and told him to call me as soon as he was ready to be picked up.

Then I got a call. He sounded out of breath a little and he was so broken up I couldn't understand anything he said. He did sound a little happier than before so I felt better, but I had no idea what he said. The phone cut off and I went back to waiting.

A little while later I got another call. He was broken up again, but I thought I heard him say that he didn't think he could make it out tonight, that he'd make it out in the morning. I sent a text message to him to verify that's what he said. I never got a response. I felt worried because it really isn't such a long distance that he had gone. Why was it so hard for him to make progress? Was he okay?

I kept thinking about what I should do. I didn't want to call SAR because he did sound like he was okay and I didn't want to embarrass him. There had been a big SAR action recently in our area and all the people we knew had discussed all the mistakes that had been made by the hikers. How they should have gotten a weather report and they would have known to stay home. They'd say the same thing about Trailhacker. He knew it would be over 100 and people would be mad at him for heading out anyway.

At the same time I worried what people would say about me. There she was chilling in her air-conditioned hotel room, drinking iced lemonade and doing nothing. Why didn't she care? Why didn't she rescue him? It was so hot outside I knew I could not hike in to look for him. It was hard to do nothing at all.

In the morning I expected Trailhacker to call early. I wasn't sure where he had slept and I couldn't remember how many miles it was from the start of Section C to Whitewater. I thought if it was 8 or 9 miles and he left at 4:30 again, maybe he'd be out around 8:30 in the morning. I figured I would go get some breakfast and wait for him to call, but in the back of my mind, I was worrying he hadn't already called. Wouldn't he start hiking out the night before and thus be ready to be picked up earlier?

I read the paper at Starbucks and tried to waste some time, but he didn't call, so I went back to my hotel. I sat for a little while and suddenly the phone rang. It was 9AM. Hooray! He was waiting for me at the little parking lot. I drove out there and picked him up and took him back to my room so he could shower. Then we went for breakfast at Sizzler.

What a wild adventure he had. The heat was amazing, he said. He had given up as soon as he could see Mission Creek from atop the ridge. He could see all the switchbacks heading up Mission Creek and could see that it would still be several miles to reach the creek and he just didn't think he could continue. He recognized he already had symptoms of heat exhaustion and he didn't want to do anything stupid. His heart was racing after eating something with caffeine in it and his foot hurt because he thought his arch had collapsed. Continuing didn't seem smart. He retreated to Whitewater and spent the entire day alternating between shivering in ice cold Whitewater creek and napping under a shelter made of drift wood and his tarp.

He was also concerned that even if he did make it to Big Bear where the weather was better, he'd have to descend back toward Deep Creek and the desert again anyway and be miserable again. He decided the best thing was to quit.

He seemed in good spirits when I picked him up. He said the ants out there were incredibly annoying. They got into his food and his backpack. There was a clump of them in the bottom of his pack he thought was dirt, but it was all ants. He couldn't get away from them out there. The water was the only reprieve from the ants and the sun.

He's back home now, after a 5 hour drive home. The traffic was horrible from the 405/101 interchange all the way home. He's not going back out on the trail for a while. He might backpack locally. I have to work. My holiday is pretty much shot. I get tomorrow off, though. No driving tomorrow!

Trailhacker is hiking Section C during a summer heat wave

I just dropped off Trailhacker at the start of Section C. We parked the car at 8pm. The temperature was 102. It didn't seem too bad. You know the old saying: It's a dry heat. So we started hiking.

Amazingly there are still a few flowers blooming in the desert. We saw burrowing 5 owls staring at us right away. Lots of tiny baby quail and bunnies, too.

We slept in Teutang canyon on the trail. It is difficult to sleep without any blankets over your body. You sit there looking at the stars and there's nothing holding you down. Maybe you will float away.

Gradually through the night I was able to cover my feet, then my legs with a bivy sack. With that I could sleep. Eventually it cooled enough I could drape a corner of my sleeping bag over my waist.

We woke up at 4:30AM. I said good-bye to Trailhacker who was continuing onward and I hiked back to the car. I reached the car at 5:30AM where the temperature was a pleasant 74. I had breakfast in Banning and the temperature was still a pleasant 74 and seemed to stay that way all the way home to Santa Barbara which I reached at 9:30. Hopefully he got in a few solid hours of pleasant morning hiking before the blast furnace began.

Trailhacker is experienced and has a perverse enjoyment of extreme heat. He'll be walking along two creeks today and tomorrow. His method to deal with heat is to periodically get his clothing wet, so Section C is a section that he should be able to manage. By Sunday evening he'll be back up in the trees where the temperatures are nicer. I hope he will be okay, but he's done far worse than this in the past.

His goal is Wrightwood by next weekend. I hope he gets better weather soon.

51 miles in 51 hours

The Man and I just returned from hiking over San Jacinto on the PCT. We started up the Spitler Trail and then followed the PCT to just about the end of Section B.

I think the PCT hates me. Three backpack trips in a row on the PCT I've found myself trying to sleep in a hurricane. This time we had 55mph winds with gusts and rain and ice-fog.

We drove down and set up the cars on Friday night. We slept at the Spitler trailhead. We started up the Spitler Trail on Saturday. The Spitler Trail is a really nice trail and still had a lot of flowers blooming. We reached the PCT in a couple of hours.

It was a nice warm, sunny day. There were some pretty strong winds, especially in the old 2008 burn zone, that almost knocked me over a few times.

We met a backpacker who was in the middle of quitting his weekend hike. Something about running low on water and deciding to quit. I can never understand that. I had only a liter to get me the 7 miles to the next water. That didn't concern me at all. But other people will quit a whole weekend hike, even if turning back is more miles than just getting to the next water. Doesn't make any sense to me.

We took a side detour to see the lookout tower on top of Taquitz Peak. The view up there was amazing. It felt like we were on a tiny little pinhead point at the top of the world. There were dozens of people up there, many of them dayhikers who had come up from Idyllwild. We didn't stay long up there because we still had 8 miles to go to get to our campsite and we were running out of time.

There had been a little bit of snow on the trail to Taquitz Peak and there was starting to be little bits of snow on the PCT. But there wasn't much. The winds were really getting strong and the second group of rangers to check our permit said there was a chance of rain that night. It was like a repeat of my hike two weeks ago. We asked the ranger if the Strawberry camp was protected from the wind and he told us it was pretty exposed. So we asked him, if we got there and it was just too windy to set up our shelter, would we get in trouble if we just dispersal camped somewhere more protected? He said that would be okay since the most important thing is to be safe.

We reached an area that seemed a little sheltered so we stopped to cook our dinners and eat. The Man didn't like how the area was in view of the trail so we moved on and found another area. It wasn't nearly as protected, but The Man saw a small spot under a large boulder where he thought we could both sleep. I didn't think we could both sleep there so I said he could sleep under the rock and I would sleep right outside and try to set up the tarp somehow so that it might withstand the wind.

So I did that. I set up my tarp folded in half with only one corner propped up a few feet to keep it off my head. I staked it down as well as I could and hoped for the best. It flopped and puffed and flailed in the night, but it held. The wind came from at least three directions and one of them would push the tarp up against me, which would collapse the down in my bag. So I would get cold when that happened. My feet were pretty cold because the tarp was tight against them. I had trouble sleeping because of the altitude. I was breathing too hard to fall fast asleep.

I was glad when morning came but not too happy that it was raining. We packed up pretty quickly and got moving. It was very cold and only got colder. When we reached the Strawberry camp we were surprised how sheltered and nice it was. We had gotten bad advice from the ranger. We figured we wouldn't listen to them anymore. They probably never actually camp up there anyway. Truth is, though, I don't think we had had enough energy last night to make it all the way to the campsite anyway.

We continued along the PCT and then took a wrong turn down the Marion Mountain trail. We discovered our mistake after a quarter mile. The Marion Mountain trail is really steep!

We headed down Fuller Ridge. There were some large snow banks still on the trail. I was a little worried because the temperature was below freezing and the snow was hard and icy. I was hiking in Chaco sandals and I didn't feel like I got a very good grip on the snow.

We reached a large stream to cross and all the boulders you might step across on had a thick layer of ice on them. I walked through the icy water and then endured frozen feet for half an hour.

Any time we stopped I would get very cold. My hands and feet would go numb and it would take a while to warm them up. My long braid had a layer of ice attached to it and was frozen. We were walking through an ice wonderland. The trees were glazed with ice and the ferocious winds were knocking ice crystals from finger-sized to bigger than a fist off the trees. I was afraid I could get knocked out by one of the bigger chunks if it happened to hit me in the head.

On the shady side of Fuller Ridge the winds were calm. There were still lots of piles of snow on the trail. They were not difficult to navigate, though. I didn't feel unsafe. Little bits of sun would come out. The ice fog clouds were only on one side of the mountain.

At noon we reached Fuller Ridge Camp. It was absolutely freezing there. There was a frozen jug of water sitting on a log. We stopped briefly for The Man to do something. I ate a snack. I didn't want to put on layers I would just have to take off later so I ended up with frozen extremities after a few minutes. I couldn't drink my water because the water hose had frozen. I had other water in a bottle I could drink, however.

Then we set off for the descent. We really just wanted to get the heck out of there. Seems like San Jacinto is the most inhospitable place. It has always had knock-you-over high winds every time I've been there. I don't understand the popularity, except maybe it can be explained by the tram from Palm Springs.

We descended into some sunshine and it started feeling a little warmer. I still wore my balaclava and jacket. Soon I took off the rain pants because I had warmed up a little. It looked like we'd descend out of the ice-fog cloud and into the nice dry desert so I was pretty happy. The map said it would take us 15 miles to get to the water fountain. It didn't seem like such a long way until we were in the thick of it.

After many hours of descending, The Man was getting very frustrated with the trail. There are so many huge switchbacks that almost don't descend. Each and every one of them actually climbs for part of the way. Someone got paid by the mile to design this trail. The Man joked that at noon we could see where I parked my car in the desert and it would probably take 24 hours to get there. (It ended up taking 21 hours, including sleeping.)

The desert floor was coming in to view and The Man was interested in seeing where the famous drinking faucet was. I couldn't see it yet. I was getting pretty tired and hoping we might find a nice sheltered campsite somewhere on the way down. There were several flowing creeks along the way and the trail, despite its shortcomings, was pretty. The air was warmer, the wind was much less and in some places, there was no wind at all and I could enjoy the flowers and the amazing views.

The Man was getting more and more frustrated, hurling obscenities at the trail. His feet were hurting. When I said I could see the fountain and pointed it out to him, he seemed cheered a little that we were getting close. We could even see someone down there. I mean, if you can see it that closely you must be close, right? Ha! The trail had other ideas.

The trail swung the largest switchback yet clear around the mountain. I joked we must be only 500 feet straight through the rocks to where we had been standing when we saw the fountain. The Man was so mad. He sat down for a while to shake a bunch of sand out of his shoes and rest and complain. I thought about how funny it is that the PCT kind of beats a lot of this kind of frustration out of you. The PCT takes all your expectations and says, no, you can't have that. I thought maybe the PCT, if it could write a song, would sing "If you can't have the trail you want, honey, want the trail you have." So I started saying that to The Man and joking with him about everything he was mad at. "Oh yeah, you want some water at a nice fountain? Ha! You can't have that! Instead, you get overgrown switchbacks in the windy desert for all eternity!" "You want a nice Memorial Day weekend on San Jacinto, enjoying the beauty and the weekend? Ha! You can't have that! Instead you get sleepless nights, knock-you over wind, ice and below-freezing weather!"

After 30 miles of hiking for the day, we at long last reached the fountain. The Man had reached the end of his patience. I did my best to set up the shelter. It felt good to be down in the desert where it was considerably warmer and much less windy. I had hope we could get some good sleep. There was another tent there, a rather large dome tent. We never saw the person inside.

Both of us were too tired to eat so we just grabbed a snack and drank something and hit the sack. The tarp flapped rather violently as the wind picked up a bit, but it held through the night by some kind of miracle. When I went to put it away in the morning, the stakes felt like they were being held in the sand by nothing but hope.

It had been a really warm night and I woke up a few times being way too hot and having to remove layers. What a contrast! In the morning we packed up and set off across the desert. It was a beautiful morning. The Man started laughing about his anger and frustration the day before. He realized he was being a big baby but his feet were killing him. He said he never wanted to see Mt. San Jacinto ever again, though. I agreed, but I thought I'd never hike across the desert here ever again in my life and here I was doing it again, so I suspect I'll find myself on San Jacinto again someday.

We slogged through the sand and found the cache under the freeway. What a treat! It was still full. We drank some Mt. Dew and shared an apple and enjoyed being hiker trash hanging out under a freeway.

On the other side of the bridge, we continued our desert journey. I was suddenly feeling very sick. I had started the trip feeling sick to my stomach on Friday and Saturday. It went away Saturday afternoon. Now it was back, but the sick feeling was further along my intestinal track. I had to stop a few times. I worried about how I was going to drive home.

When we reached the car, an actual thru-hiker walked by. Turns out that was his large tent at the fountain. He was moving pretty quickly so perhaps he'll catch up and make it to Canada. The Man and I drove to Idyllwild and had breakfast, then drove the long miles home. No traffic.

Despite the insane weather and feeling like the PCT just wants me to go away, it was a nice trip. The Man mentioned that we had hiked 51 miles in 51 hours. That seems pretty shocking to me. We're not athletes or hard-core hikers by any means. That's just what the PCT does to you. Makes you go further than you want in search of a place to sleep.

Last day of my farewell PCT section hike

I slept very well at the hotel. I fell asleep early and slept well until super loud birds outside woke me up. I guess the birds here had to learn to shout even louder than the birds out on the trail, what with the raging wind and the freeway and the multiple train tracks going through this narrow canyon. It had felt good to be somewhere warm and quiet. I had never left my room at all once I entered.

The clock in my room wasn't set so I had no idea of the time. I just got up, took another shower, packed up and headed off to McDonald's for breakfast.

Cave Man, a thru-hiker I had bumped into a few times, was at McDonalds. He had slept in the tunnel under the freeway. He said there was a dry spot on the concrete big enough for himself and that it had been quiet and wind-free.

I ate an egg and bacon muffin sandwich and two cups of coffee. I think caffeine has anti-inflammatory properties because my knees and feet felt 100 times better after the coffee. I was ready for my final 5 miles.

I headed into the tunnel. Sure enough, it was quiet and free from wind in there. It was mostly wet with a small dry spot just big enough for one sleeping bag. On the other side of the tunnel, the riparian area also seemed calm and sheltered. Note to self: Next time you can avoid the hotel and sleep in the canyon beyond the tunnel.

The trail winded around in areas only hikers and hobos would ever wee. That's the thing about the trail. It conditions you to life as a homeless person. You stop fearing it. You always feel like you are home, as long as you are away from town.

I winded through chaparral and rock formations called the Mormon Rocks. I could imagine condors living in the rocks long ago. It is such a contrast between the nature of the area and the thought of condors against the horrible noise of the freeway and the trains carrying miles of containers of cheap plastic crap from China. Our modern way of life is so wrong. It struck me now that my farewell, worst backpack trip ever had been nothing of the sort. It had been more of an affirmation of how the PCT has impacted me, made me strong, made me able to endure, made me happy.

The wind was much calmer on this side of the canyon. The weather was still misty and foggy. There were few views. As I entered the sheep fire area I saw some Poodle Dog Bush and left a note on the trail warning people not to touch it. It gives you a rash worse than poison oak.

I rounded a corner and Swarthout Canyon Road came into view. A few more corners and I could see my truck. I signed in at the water cache and then walked down the road to my truck. Hike over.

Funny how the last couple of days had felt so bad but a good night's sleep had erased all bad feelings and made me feel welcoming of the hardships, the wind, the cold, the weather. I wished I was continuing on up the mountain on the other side of the road. I felt proud of myself for hiking in such difficult conditions and for hiking every step of the distance, relatively short as it was.

I drove to Wrightwood to have a celebratory second breakfast and ruin any weightloss I may have obtained. There were hikers there but I said nothing to them. I was no longer one of them. I am a post-thru-hiker. One of the changed ones. A person you may see walking down the street who carries a big secret. I drove home thinking about that secret, how it could be put into words. Perhaps it is something you can only understand through experience.

Worst backpack trip ever

I woke up thinking this was the worst backpack trip ever. Well, actually, I didn't wake up at all because I never slept.

My tent fell over soon in a big gust of wind. Since there appeared to be no clouds in the sky, I decided I would just sleep on top of my tent instead. so in the middle of the night, I attempted to pack everything so that it would not blow away in the wind and then I positioned my pack at one end of the tent as a paperweight and my water container and sandals on the other end and me in the middle.

The tent was slippery and I kept slipping down all night and every time I tried to roll over I would slip and slide everything out of place. I spent much of the night rearranging everything. Sometime in the night I got up to go pee and my whole bed flew away in the wind. I grabbed it and anchored it down with the water container, hoping that my socks and pillow were still inside. Then a little later I thought it sounded like rain was hitting my sleeping bag. I peeked my face out and saw stars in the sky but felt rain falling like a fine spray all over my face. The only thing I could do now was try to sleep inside the tent. So I threw everything inside the tent and got inside and zipped myself in like a bag. It was actually a lot better than sleeping on top and I finally got a little sleep.

Soon I could see it was dawn. I heard the birds that I remembered from 2008 as being the loudest birds I ever heard. Now I knew why. The wind had roared all night sounding like planes coming in for a landing. These birds had to yell to hear each other.

I packed my things up as quickly as I could, then set off for a creek a mile away or so. I stopped there for breakfast. I should have camped at this creek. It was much better sheltered from the wind. My goal for the day was Little Horsethief Canyon, but if it was not sheltered from the wind, I would have to continue on to Interstate 15 27 miles away. It was raining and without a shelter that could handle the wind, I was basically out in the rain without shelter.

I walked in sunshine with rain drenching me in a fine spray. There was a pretty full rainbow over Apple Valley. Silverwood Lake looked cold and brooding. Misty clouds poured over the hills. My feet and legs hurt a lot but I just walked very slowly and knew that if I put in the hours, I could go the distance.

Much of the scenery had been forgotten but seeing it again the memories popped back to me as vivid as if it had been yesterday. Here is where the cooler of fruit is supposed to be -- yep, there it is! I ate an apple. Here's where the lake is supposed to come into view -- yep, there it is. The climb up Cleghorn seemed easier than I remembered and I saw the spot wehre I had had lunch in a gully with Steve. The other side of Cleghorn was a foggy memory, but now I could see why. It was pretty forgettable scenery, boring chaparral all the way down into Little Horsethief Canyon.

The canyon was not sheltered from the wind at all. I didn't think my tent could handle it. So I pressed on. I remembered the climb up from there vividly as soon as I saw it again. There was the place where I rested. There was the windy ridge tat almost knocks you over.

It started to seem sheltered as I neared a power line, so I stopped for a while in the sun to dry my wet socks and rest in a few moments of windlessness and rainlessness. I decided I couldn't trust the weather to camp here. What if the wind shifted direction? I would be without shelter again. If I got all the way to the interstate, I was guaranteed shelter. And then it would only be 5 miles to my car so I wouldn't have to worry. No sleeping out required. I would be home a day early, but better that than to be rained on in the cold. I wondered if perhaps a flat tarp would be a better thing to bring out here. I could set it up very low so it wouldn't be such a target for the wind.

I thought about how perhaps it was a good thing my farewell to the PCT hike had been so awful. I felt no envy for the thru-hikers out here at all. I was reminded of all the things I hated about the PCT -- the wind, the rain, pushing through wet overgrow brush, wet feet for days. I don't have to endure this. I can go home and choose to hike in the fall instead if I want.

I hiked on into blasting cold wind. There were ridge walks where I was nearly blown over. On one ridge I yelled, "NO!" as the wind tried to knock me off. I considered crawling on my hands and knees. How fast does wind have to be to pick a person up off their feet? It was that fast.

I reached the McDonald's after many long, painful miles of descending in the wind. I was in a lot of pain and worried about my ability to make it. I held on to a shred of possibility that Crowder Canyon might have a sheltered spot to sleep. Not a chance. I soldiered on to the McDonald's where I ate a surprisingly good meal with a few other hikers. We all talked about how the wind made us consider crawling and almost blew each of us over the side of the cliffs.

I left the hikers at the McDonald's and walked up the road to the hotel. I was nearly blown into the road as I walked over the overpass. I staggered in and got a room for $51. As soon as I closed the door on the noise and energy of the wind, I knew it was worth every penny. It felt good to be somewhere so peaceful.

Wind and rain in the sunshine

Today reminded me of everything that sucks about the So Cal section of the PCT.

My sandals were frozen in the morning. It had been a cold night. The down pants were barely warm enough. I was glad I had them and couldn't imagine how cold I would have been without them.

I packed up early and set off to see the detour. The PCT had been closed at the Deep Creek bridge and a detour had been forged out of motorcycle trails. I had considered hiking through the original trail but decided since I had already seen it, why not see what the detour had to offer. Maybe it would be better than the PCT.

At first the detour was way prettier than Deep Creek. I walked along OHV routes through grass lands and oakey, piney forests. The rain had made the road soft so it didn't hurt my feet. The sun was out. Flowers bloomed all over. Lots of little creeks. No motorcycles.

The OHV route ended and the reroute followed a paved, closed road. A ranger drove by twice but nobody else. I descended into a bouldery desert.

I reached a bridge with blue swallows and the words "Paxx & Love" etched into the concrete. There was also one of the red PCT detour signs posted next to the bridge. Someone had written on the detour sign with a sharpie pen, 3 miles to Deep Creek Hot spring with an arrow. I looked and sure enough, there was a trailhead here marked with a sign to Deep Creek Hot Spring. I decided I would go.

The trail to the hot spring was sandy and scary. The bottom 1/4 of the trail was steep and slippery. The sign had said at the fork in the trail, take the left fork and it would be easier. I did that but I had to turn back. I didn't think I could make it without falling to my death. So I tried the right fork and it seemed better. When I got to some really scary sandy stuff, I just scooted on my butt. It wasn't as bad as the left fork because it was going straight down instead of across a cliff. It was a lot like hiking down the back side of Montecito Peak. I just took it slow and made it to the bottom.

I picked my way down a small creek and emerged onto the PCT. I looked around and recognized the spot with the hot springs to the right.

Nobody was in the big pool so I took off my clothes and got in. It felt so good. It was bathtub warm, just perfect. After being rained and snowed on and soaking wet and cold yesterday, this was wonderful.

Soon a young couple came to use the pool. They were nice to talk to even if they were sort of red neck types. I soaked and talked with them until I felt dizzy from the heat. I decided to get out and cool off. Since I was naked, I got dressed. Since I was dressed I figured I would head back to the trail. I rested a bit until the dizziness wore off and drank a soda the couple gave me. Pretty soon about half a dozen men appeared and got in the pool. I said good-bye to everyone and headed back to the trail.

I was sort of surprised but sort of not surprised that I didn't see any PCT hikers at the hot spring. PCT hikers get so focused on their miles they fail to take any side trips and this one would have turned back most who may have wanted to try. I didn't want to repeat that element of being a PCT hiker. I wanted to enjoy the luxury of side trips that section hiking seems to foster.

I climbed the 3 miles back up to the detour and continued down the road. It became a dirt road. It was long and painful. Roads tend to be banked around turns which hurts to walk on, especially if the road is made of sand. Some of the banked turns were very steep and it was treacherous to walk anywhere but along the high edge.

At long last, I reached the bottom of the hill somewhere beyond the Mojave Forks Dam to nowhere. I had watched as the dam and the PCT had come into view. I was glad I hadn't had to do that deep ford of the creek below the dam. It was still very cold and windy out.

The road ended at the big juniper tree where I remembered there had been a water cache. I looked and the cache was still there. Being so cold, I had barely needed any water at all this whole trip and I certainly didn't need he cache.

The trail climbed up high again on the side of the chaparral hills. I hoped the little nooks carved in the chaparral were sheltered enough from the wind. It looked like I was on schedule to camp there again. My stomach was growling, telling me, since I had no knowledge of the time, that it was dinner time.

The sky was cloudy and it looked like it might rain again. I could have slept out under the stars if it wasn't for the clouds. The wind would die down and it would seem like maybe it wasn't going to be windy tonight after all. Then it would burst back up again. My tent doesn't seem to set up well at all anymore. It seems saggy and loose. The knots were coming undone and I didn't know how to retie them properly. It didn't seem wind-worthy. I was thinking perhaps it was time for a new tent. So I really hoped for a sheltered spot to sleep tonight.

I pulled into the little nooks. There were at least half a dozen other hikers already here. I did my best to find a sheltered location. I found one and cooked dinner in it, but my tent didn't fit in the small spot so I chose another. I should have used the same spot I camped in in 2008, but I chose a different spot. It turned out not to be a good spot.

Into the snow and rain

The Man and I awoke to drizzle on the tent. I didn't want to get up so early because I didn't want to hike too many miles. My plan was to keep my miles around 18 per day so that I could stretch out the hike until Thursday (today was Sunday.) I also didn't want to go out into the cold drizzle. But The Man wanted to get going early so he could drive home. So I ended up starting hiking around 6:30 in the morning.

It soon started to snow lightly. Then it snowed heavily. It was not too bad since snow is wet. All morning it snowed. The trail was descending and I worried that soon the snow would turn to rain. I had forgotten my umbrella. I had rain pants and a jacket that can handle light rain but not all day rain or heavy rain.

I walked into the burn zone that had been closed back in 2008. The trail was pretty even in the burned area. There were lots of flowers blooming. The trail went through a swamp and my feet got quite wet. I was wearing sandals with wool socks, which worked out okay but any little wetness from wet plants or swamps got my feet instantly wet.

I stopped at Little Bear Springs camp to eat something and then got really cold. I started walking again to warm up. Then I started running because I wasn't warming up. I heard something and turned to see smoke in some bushes by the creek. Someone was having a fire. I went down to ask if it was okay if I warmed up a little by the fire and the hikers said of course. A little trail magic for my morning. Warmth just when I needed it.

I warmed by the fire for a few minutes and as soon as I felt like I was able, I got hiking again. I wanted to try to get to Splinters Cabin where I had dreams of it being like South Fork Station. I pictured a real cabin with a pot belly stove and someone tending it already. I had it all worked up in my mind, but I was also pretty certain there was likely to be nothing of the sort there.

Later I found out all Splinters Cabin offered was a shelter covering a picnic table, a nice shady place to get out of the sun. Still, it would be shelter from the rain and I felt I needed it. I was wearing my plastic ground sheet as a shawl to try and keep at least my core dry. It worked somewhat, but I still felt pretty cold and wet. I tried to remind myself that as long as I wasn't cold, I was okay. Just keep moving. It made no sense to stop if I wasn't cold. Maybe the weather would improve soon and I would be happy I had kept going.

The trail had me make several wet fords of Holcomb Creek. Knee deep creek crossings would have felt great on a hot day. Today they were pretty miserable.

The scenery all day was really beautiful. There were lots of wildflowers, mostly lupine and yellow wallflowers. I descended out of the forest and into a more mixed forest of oaks and cedars and burned manzanita. White ceanothus were in peak bloom. There were lots of tiny creeks everywhere. It was a lot wetter than the year I came through on my long hike in 2008.

I finally made it to Deep Creek bridge. I stopped under the bridge to try and dry my stuff in the sun on some rocks. The sun was out now with clouds moving in an out. It was a weak sun and it wasn't drying my stuff well. I looked up and saw a flock of Western Tanagers in a tree. They were so beautiful.

On the other side of the creek and bridge about a tenth of a mile away was Splinters Cabin. It was once a cabin but now was just a roof shading a picnic table. There was a little sun still shining so I set up my tent and made dinner and basked in the warmth the sun makes inside a tent. Tonight I planned to sleep wearing the world's best invention: down pants.

My attempted "Farewell to the PCT hiker bum years" hike

I recently got a real job so with a little time between jobs I decided to do a section of the PCT. Sort of a farewell since it will be a while before I can do a long distance hike again. I decided to hike from Big Bear to Interstate 15.

I parked my car at Swarthout Canyon Road where the PCT begins its long climb to Wrightwood. Then The Man and I drove to Big Bear. The plan was to hike from Highway 18 back to my car. In 2008 I had skipped the 8 miles between Highway 18 and Van Deusen Road and this was my chance to fix that. All the rest of the trip was just an opportunity to spend 5 days on the PCT. Very little seemed to remain in my memory from this section, so I was looking forward to seeing what I had forgotten.

When we parked the car, two hikers emerged from the trail. They had just done 20 miles before noon. Wow! The Man and I had been debating whether we should get a good lunch in Big Bear and these two hikers gave us an excuse to go get lunch. We drove them into town and we all ate lunch at Thelmas. Then we headed back to the trailhead and began our hike.

We hiked to just a little beyond Van Deusen Road, just a bit more than 8 miles and found a sheltered place to camp a little off the trail. There was mountain mahogany, juniper, cedar, pines and firs. It was a pretty area that reminded me of the Pine Mountain Lodge area near Ojai. Just before camp we spotted a large group of hikers camped below Van Deusen Road. They were talking about how much they had drunk in Big Bear and they had wine with them and planned to do more drinking. We decided that they might be a little too noisy to camp near so that is why we went a little further to our secluded campsite.

As I lay in our tent I pondered that for some reason I felt no kinship with the other hikers we had met. Was it because with my new job coming I am moving on? Or was it because I hiked so much of the PCT alone I just don't get the "herd" mentality? Perhaps it was both. I really wanted one last chance to live on the trail. The trail has been so much a part of me and my life. It changed me in some ways. I really felt like I did not want to say good-bye. I went to sleep happy to be here, home.