Willet Hot Spring and camp: 34.575822, -119.050937
In 2011, Anna, Kevin and I spent three days exploring Sespe Gorge in the Los Padres’ Sespe Wilderness. It was an incredible 30-something mile hike and one of my earliest backpacking trips. We saw so many wonderful swimming holes and waterfalls, and visited both Willet and Sespe Hot Springs.
I broke my finger on the first day of this hike slipping on moss. It still turned out to be an amazing trip, particularly due to Kevin’s incredible knowledge of the Los Padres and his sense of adventure.
Heading into the Topa Topas
Overgrown trail
Anna
Tar Creek
Navigating through the boulders
Getting comfortable at our first night’s camp along the creek.
This journey was particularly special to me, mostly because I got to start at the Southern Terminus Monument, which is as awesome as visiting the Great Wall of China or a Mayan pyramid. The monument represents so much to me: an engineering and political miracle, the American frontier, adventure, history, and internal as well as external journeys. Even though I’ve already begun my PCT trek and seen many of the most notable sights, I still felt like a child at the gates to Disneyland as I approached the monument.
After a quick email blast to a bunch of friends only a few days before the trip, I managed to convince another soul to join me. Ben’s been a good friend since high school and has enjoyed hiking, but had never before done any kind of backpacking. I set him up with my very first backpack, an old Cabela’s model, and other pieces of gear he’d be needing, and crossed my fingers he would enjoy himself. He was definitely up for anything, and that was enough for me!
Since Sabrina, my personal trail angel, would be dropping us off at the Mexican border early on December 26, we drove down a day early and spent Christmas evening with her, her boyfriend, and some other friends. It was one of the best Christmas dinners I’ve ever had: prime rib with roasted vegetables, homemade egg nog, soaking in the hot tub with excellent tequilla from Sabrina’s family farm, and fun-loving company.
We woke up early on December 26th, hit Starbucks for a couple of 500-calorie breakfast sandwiches and a Walgreens for several gallons of water for the Scissor’s Crossing water cache. I loved the drive and being able to get a glimpse of the land I was about to walk through. The land is so different than the dramatic mountains of the Sierra’s in sections G and H, the San Gabriels of section D, and the San Jacintos of section B which I’ve already hiked.
We dropped off water under the bridge at Scissors crossing on Hwy 79, only to find it fully stocked already. It was a relief to see people were still stocking the water caches even though it wasn’t the busy season for hiking.
Trailhead of the PCT
Getting settled in, on the trail
I had hoped to hit the trail by 9am at the latest, but alas, it was 10:30 when we finally arrived at the border. We had a good time mucking about at the Mexican border, but it took me a while to realize the trailhead isn’t exactly at the monument. Turns out the official trailhead is about 50 feet north of and across the dirt road from the monument. We said goodbye to Sabrina and set off along the unassuming little trail in the direction of Canada.
I was so excited I think I actually carried the maps in my hands for the entire first couple of hours. At every road crossing, building we passed, stream, gate, or bridge the maps were unrolled and examined. The hike started off windy, but luckily it didn’t last. The temperature was great, maybe in the 60’s?
First railroad crossing
First of many, many gates
We walked through miles and miles of coyote bush, yucca, sage, and manzanita trees. Every now and again we saw little purple checkerbloom flowers and California buckwheat, but as it was the middle of winter, not much was in bloom. As we slowly climbed the hills, we could look back toward Campo and see Mexico in the distance, with the wall and a few observation towers lining the border.
Manzanita tree
Ben bounced along with his pack asking lots of questions about backpacking and the trail. It was pretty cute. We talked a lot that first day, just catching up on life and exchanging ideas. Ben told me some of his blog ideas for his website. He’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met and philosophizes on everything from the humanities to the sciences. You can check out his excellent writings at OutCreation.com.
By the end of the day, Ben and I were both eager to finally reach our campsite. Our feet and hips felt bruised, and I was glad I decided to only hike 15.5 miles to Hauser Creek. I had originally planed to hike 20 miles the first day to Lake Morena Campground, but changed the itinerary when Ben decided to tag along.
A warning sign for Spanish-speaking travelers
Appraoching Hauser Creek
After setting up the tent, we both stretched and rolled out our muscles on a mini foam roller I’d brought along. My physical therapist had recommended I pick up a foam roller for home use last July, and I love it so much I’ve been bringing a mini 6″ by 12” roller on a few of my backpacking trips. I use the roller specifically to massage my glutes, IT bands, quadriceps. Since all those components work to support the knees, making sure they release their tension is important for proper patella tracking and thus knee comfort.
Despite being at the bottom of a canyon, it was a warm night for us. We enjoyed some Trader Joe’s lentil soup, which I’d dehydrated myself, and lounged around talking in the tent.
Campsite at Hauser Creek
Day 2- 16.5 miles to CS032
Our second day started with a stiff climb out of Hauser Creek. We had only a few miles to hike to reach Lake Morena, where we would refill water bottles and freshen up a bit.
As we approached Lake Morena, we saw more and more tracks in the dirt, but I’m still not that great at telling the difference between cougars and large dogs. For most of the morning, I was pretty convinced the tracks were cat-made.
First view of Lake Morena
Lake Morena Nature Trail
Lake Morna was lovely and had excellent facilities. There was a bathroom with showers, but neither Ben or I choose to take advantage of that luxury. I was a bit focused on maintaining a specific hiking pace so we’d reach our campsite that evening near Halfmile’s mile 36. I find that pressure to maintain a good pace to be the biggest drawback to section hiking- I’m always concerned about getting back in time for work. I salivate for the summer when I won’t be constrained by work back home.
Cereal in bag
Lake Morena facilities
We had all the food and supplies we needed, so we didn’t go check out the little grocery store in town. After downing some granola cereal with powdered whole milk and chit-chatting with an equestrian, we road walked out of Lake Morena and back to the dirt trail. It was funny to see Christmas decorations out while hiking because I’ve always associated the PCT with summer!
Leaving Lake Morena
Christmas on the PCT
Ben
Teva Time!
Just outside of Lake Morena, I switched out of sneakers and into my Teva sandals. I LOOOVE hiking in my Tevas because they feel so good, but it inevitably dries out my Northern European skin and leaves my heels cracked. I’m still working on a way to sandal hike all day without this problem- maybe some beeswax would work?
Looking back toward Lake Morena
Entering Cottonwood Valley
Cottonwood Creek
Cottonwood Creek Bridge
PCT graffiti
Like so many humans before them, PCT hikers love to leave thier mark on the world, to tell all those who follow who they were, what they did, and why they did it. Beneath the Cottonwood Creek bridge is a plethora of PCT graffiti: mostly names and dates, some drawings, obscene and beautiful (also true to human nature throughout history), poetry and quotes. Ben walked right past it all, but I couldn’t pull myself away. It was like walking through Roman or Greek ruins and feeling the weight of human history in the walls.
Someone’s home…? Beneath Cottonwood Creek Bridge
Cottonwood Creek
I absolutely fell in love with Cottonwood Valley. The meadows and oak trees were so beautiful and the scenery seemed to changed enough to entertain me. You’ll notice that I took tons of pictures this day.
Second lunch break
Cottonwood Valley
Cottonwood Valley
Cottonwood Valley
Cottonwood Valley
Cottonwood Valley, Cleaveland NF
Approaching Boulder Oaks Campground
Our first and only stream crossing 🙁
While at the Boulder Oaks Campground, we chatted with a ranger about any potential marijuana grow sites in the area. He assured us they’d all been pulled out, but to just keep an eye out for any irrigation tubing that wasn’t part of habitat resoration or sketchy looking people without proper hiking gear.
Boulder Oaks Campground, Cleaveland NF
Lunch & mileage
Ben was slowing down by Day 3. His body just wasn’t accostomed to backpacking and his mind had no previous experiences to rely on to tell him all the body aches were normal and temporary. After you’ve got a couple long hikes under your belt, you know which aches and pains need to be immediately attended to and which can be ignored. It’s a great exercise in channeling your focus and emotions. We decided that the campsite at Halfmile’s mile 36 would be too much for the day and aimed instead for a campsite at mile 32 in Fred’s Canyon.
A cathedral beneath Hwy 8
Cottonwood Valley, Cleaveland NF
Cottonwood Valley
A corridor of manzanitas
Looking back toward Hwy 8
At the Kitchen Creek Road crossing
Desert flowers
The day was quickly ending and Ben was struggling. So, I grabbed the tent and hurried ahead to set up camp before it got too dark. Ben meandered on into camp just as I put up the lantern in the tent. After he’d unpacked a bit and came back from changing, he mentioned how dark it was, and I had to laugh because he still had his sunglasses on!
We enjoyed some home-dehydrated black beans and brown rice with veggies and salsa for dinner. I remembered that I’d packed my Kindle, so we busted it out and tried reading about the local geology from the Wilderness Press PCT Guidebook. It was good information, but a bit dry to read. I handed the Kindle off to Ben and he read Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy to me until I fell asleep.
Sunset just past Kitchen Creek Road
Day 3- 10.5 miles to Mt. Laguna
Fred Canyon campsite at mile 32 (CS032)
We allowed ourselves to sleep in that morning, knowing we had only 10.5 miles to hike that day. It had been a cold night for me with my 32°F bag, so I’m guessing it got below 30°F, and it made me eager to get up and start moving. Breakfast consisted of fig bars and fruit leather for me and an energy bar for Ben. We also snacked straight out of a jar of almond butter which we dropped peanut M&Ms into (a new favorite of mine!).
Peanut M&M’s in almond butter
Breakfast 🙂
Fred Canyon
Before hitting the trail that morning, Ben expressed concern about whether he should continue past Mt. Laguna or not. He felt he wasn’t in the best of shape to keep up with my itinerary. We decided to wait and see how he felt after we spent an evening in town.
Near mile 33, view towards Fred Canyon Road
Shortly after leaving camp, I came across a sign that read: “Safety Hazard. Unexploded military ordinance in this area. Stay on roads and trails.” So, apparently a military helicopter crashed in the area years ago, but they weren’t able to account for all of the explosive devices it had been carrying. Of course it figures that this would be the exact time when I really felt the need to dig a discrete little off-trail hole. ARgh!
Campsite at mile 36, according to Halfmile’s maps (CS036)
Long Canyon
Long Canyon Creek
Climbing higher and higher into the Laguna Mountains brought us to Long Canyon, a beautiful little spot with lots of trees and a couple of creeks running through it. It was nice to hike through a different ecosystem and finally see more oaks and a few pine trees. We took a break near Long Canyon Creek, which was flowing lightly, to purify water.
Long Canyon
Long Canyon
I’m kinda like a horse when it comes to hiking, I always hike faster when I know I’m headed to the barn. Mt. Laguna was my barn for the night and I couldn’t wait to get there. It was so exciting to finally reach the the trail turn-off into Burnt Rancheria Campground which woudl take us into town. We made it into the campground, but then couldn’t find our way out to the street! We walked around in circles for probably 20 or more minutes before making our out to Sunrise Hwy.
Approaching Burnt Rancheria Campground
Turn off for Burnt Rancheria Campground at mile 41.47
It was 1:20pm when we finally rolled into Mt. Laguna. I hustled up to the Mt. Laguna Lodge while Ben made himself a new friend, Dave Super, at little Mt. Laguna Sport and Supply shop. Dave invited us to join him and a couple other PCT hikers at the Pine House Cafe that night for dinner, which turned out to be an awesome evening of company. The first order of business, however, was to get a room at the lodge and then to shower, do laundry and organize food.
Epsom salt foot soak and Pizza Pringles <3
Doing laundry
Pine House Cafe & Tavern
Ben, me, Beav, and Hippie Long Stockings at the Pine House Cafe
That evening we enjoyed the fine company of Dave, the owner of Mt. Laguna’s only sport shop, and two epic hikers, Hippie Long Stocking and Beav (as in Beaver). Beav was hiking from Mexico to Big Bear with another man, Eric, and Hippie was in day hiking with them for the weekend just for the exercise. To say these three hikers were experienced is an understatement. Hippie has hiked the Appalacian Trail three times, the Pacific Crest twice, and plans on hiking the Continental Divide Trail next. Beav has hiked the PCT at least twice and also the Continental Divide. The third hiker, Eric, has hiked the PCT SEVEN TIMES… !!! And I think they said he set the 2005 speed record for a yo-yo hike. (A yo-yo hike is Mexico to Canada and back to Mexico.) Beav, Hippie, and Dave were absolutely awesome, full of advice, stories, and character.
Live music
Chicken Mac & Cheese and a Quinoa Avocado Salad at the Pine House Cafe and Tavern
Day 4- 10 miles to Pioneer Picnic Area
Ben and I left a resupply package with Dave from Laguna Mountain Sport and Suppy, which he would mail on to Warner Springs for us and we set-off around 10:30am. Heading out of Mt. Laguna via Desert View Picnic Area gave us our first view of the Anza-Borrego Desert far below. This desert is named for the Spanish explorer Juan Bautista de Anza and also for bighorn sheep (borrego, in Spanish). It’s California’s largest State Park and the second largest state park in the U.S.
Juan Bautitsta de Anza is well know for a 1,200-mile colonization trail he carved out between Nogales, Arizona and the San Fransico Bay Area. A National Historic Trail for hiking and driving have been established in his name along most of the path he traveled and the State Park contains part of this trail.
View of the Anza-Borrego Desert from the Desert View Picnic Area
The formation of this desert is actually quite amazing. About 6 million years ago, the area which is now the desert used to be part of the Ancestral Gulf of California. It was rich with sea life until the Ancestral Colorado River began carving out the Grand Canyon and depositting all it’s sediment in the Gulf. As more and more sediment filled it in, the Gulf eventually became a river delta and was receiving three times the amount of rainfall it does today. Imagine woodlands and a savannah teaming with life big and small all across the basin.
Millenia past, and the land slowly changed to desert. The first humans to settle the area were the Kumeyaay people, 1,500 years ago.
Since this land depression, called the Salton Tough, has had such a long and contiunous deposit of sediment, the Anza-Borrego Desert is believed to be the best source of tracking fossils and environmental changes throughout the past 2.5 million years. It’s archelogical finds include plants, mammals, and pre-columbian rock art by Native Americans.
The next 10 miles of trail presented us with the most beautiful views I had seen on the trail so far. Unfortunately, my battery died just after taking the picture at Desert View Picnic Area. I was so bummed. I had kept my smartphone plugged into my solar charger for the entire day before, but because of cloud cover, it never really charged up. When there’s good sunshine, the Suntactics charger works great, but you’re screwed if you’re stuck in shade or a cloudy day.
Ben moved slowly all morning, struggling with the 6,000 ft elevation of the Mt. Laguna area. We took our time, stopping to enjoy the views and stretch. I had hoped spending the night in Mt. Laguna would have helped him more. I always underestimate how much elevation is going to effect the men I drag along on these journeys.
It took us almost 4 hours to hike 6 miles that day and Ben continued to drag more and more. I assured him we could take as much time as he needed and probably camp at Pioneer Picnic Area for the night, and he continued with his internal struggle. Just as we passed a few day hikers coming up Noble Canyon Trail from Sunrise Hwy, Ben stopped in his tracks and said, “I’m done.” He’d been grappling with whether to stay on the trail or not for the past couple of days, and just like that, something inside him said, “Stop here.”
At first, I wasn’t sure if he meant he needed another break or if maybe he meant we could set-up came for the day right in that spot, but when I saw him teetering- I actually thought he might faint!- I knew he meant he was getting off the trail. There were no hard feelings. I’m very proud of him for backpacking 48 miles on his very first trip ever!
We exchanged a few pieces of gear. From him, I grabbed the two-person Tarptent and the Klymite X Frame sleeping pad he’d been using. We also traded sleeping bags. I had been using my 32° Mountain Hardware bag, but had been feeling chilly on the sub 30° nights, so I took the REI 25° Halo bag he’d been using. This meant my pack would be heavier, so I handed off my sandals, my mini foam roller, and an extra thin, foam sleeping pad, which Ben would take home to Santa Barbara for me. Luckily, we were so near Mt. Laguna and Sunrise Hwy he would be able to easily hitch a ride back to town. From there he would figure out a way to get back to Santa Barbara.
We shared a big bear hug and then trotted down the trail in opposide directions, Ben towards the Noble Canyon Trailhead and me towards Canada. I moved fast hoping I could make up for lost time, breezing past all the day hikers. After only 45 minutes, I past a scrappy looking dude with a day pack and a bouncing behind him was a goofy looking lady in a skirt with a pink shirt, pink leg warmers, a cowboy hat, and headphones- it was Hippie! The scrappy dude was her friend Eric who I hadn’t met at dinner the night before because he’d stayed at the campground. She asked where Ben was, I said, “Ben bailed!” She said, “That’s his new trail name!” Sorry Ben. : ? Hippie asked what I was going to do, and I insisted that I was going to KEEP GOING. She suggested staying the night with them at the campground in Mt. Laguna, but “NO! I’m going to KEEP GOING!! I can handle this!” She laughed at me, and then she clarified: she’d come back down Sunrise Hwy that evening and pick me up wherever I decided to jump off, drive me up to Mt Laguna for the night, and then drive me all the way back to the trail in the morning to pick up where I left off. <3 What an awesome lady. I couldn’t believe ANYbody would do that- I was ecstatic at the idea. We agreed to meet around 5:00 near a particular turn-off 6 miles up the trail.
I ended up hiking only a few more miles to Pioneer Mail Picnic Area and then hoped off the trail to Sunrise Highway. I figured I’d wait for her there because I wasn’t sure I had enough sunlight to make it to the designated pick-up stop. Turns out I only had to wait 5 minutes before Hippie’s giant truck, Melissa, pulled up. She and Eric were headed to the town of Julian for pizza and the football game and were going to pick me up on the way back to Mt. Laguna. Seeing as I was there, they dragged me down to Juian- I wasn’t complaining.
It was an evening full of surprises. Once back in Mt. Laguna several hours later, we went on a mission to locate Ben. Once accomplished, we all reconvened at Pine House Cafe for a 2nd night of dinners and drinks with Beav and Dave. I decided to crash with Ben at his lodge room because it would be warmer than the campground, even though Hippie did offer to let me sleep in the back of her truck with her. Staying at the lodge meant another shower and a nice squishy mattess!
Day 5- 21 miles to CS073
Melissa & Hippie
View of the Anza-Borrego Desert from the Pioneer Mail Picnic Area
Just above Pioneer Mail Picnic Area
After a couple of 10-miler days and two nights at the Mt. Laguna Lodge, I felt thoroughly rested up. The trail from Pioneer Mail Picnic Area was mostly flat with a couple of downhill stretches. The old, abandoned Sunrise Highway just above Pioneer had stunning views of the desert valley. I wish I had known more about it’s history before hiking through it; maybe next time I’ll actually read my guide book while I’m out on the trail.
A memorial rock
More PCT graffiti
I passed an interesting memorial rock along the old road. It was covered in 9-10 memorial plaques to different people from all walks of life. Some looked like they might have been outdoor lovers, others military. I’m guessing it was a favorite spot for them and their loved ones scattered their ashes from the top of the rock. It offered an expansive vista thousands of feet about the valley floor.
A couple of scrappy day hikers at CS064
Hippie Long Stocking
After practically skipping down the flat trail for half the day, I finally started descending into a canyon. It was the steepest grade on the PCT I’d seen in all of Section A, so I decided to hike backwards. I’m actually pretty good at it now and it’s not at all hard on the knees!
Once at a campsite at the bottom of the canyon, I stoped for a spicy tuna lunch with crackers and fruit leather. I was a little on edge because it felt so quiet once I’d stopped hiking. From the top of the canyon, I thought I heard someone yell, but no one responded when I called back. I figured maybe some mountain bikers where cruising along the fireroad at the top.
To my surprise ten minutes later, Ben and Hippie came barrelling off the trail into the campsite! Hippie had offered Ben a ride to an Amtrak station, but since his train wasn’t until later that evening, she dragged him out on a day hike to catch me. I was so glad to see them! Ben was up and moving, despite the disappointment of getting off the trail, plus he’d just purchased an awesome Go-Lite backpack of his very own from Dave in Mt. Laguna. He wasn’t turned off to backpacking! He was actually interested in doing it again, and with his OWN gear!! That made me happy.
Hippie gave me some pointers about campsites, told me not to be afriad of the coyotes I’d be hearing at night, and that Beav and Eric were going to jump on the trail at Scissors Crossing tomorrow. She said if I hustled, I might be able to catch-up and hike with them for a bit. Right, fat chance; but still, it motivated me knowing they’d be out there.
Looking towards San Felipe Valley
I wasn’t sure how far I’d hike that day. I knew there were campsites near Scissors Crossing, but that would’ve made for a 25 mile day which I didn’t feel ready to handle. Instead, I aimed for a lone campsite near Halfmile’s mile 73 on the side of Granite Mountain. It would mean a 21 mile day, but I was hiking really well and sometimes, there just aren’t too many options for campsites. That’s another reason I love using a bivy instead of a tent. I’m constantly seeing spots big enough for my little bivy sack that my one and two-person tents can’t fit into.
The Pandora Mine at the bottom of Rodriguez Canyon
If you’re into stuff about mines, check out the Mindat.com article on the Royal-Pandora Mines of Rodriguez Canyon here.
Junction of the PCT and Rodriguez “Die Hard” Way
The Rodriguez Spur Fire Tank hose
The water at Rodriquez Spur Fire Tank was great and it was a lovely spot. I had thought about taking it easy and just camping there for the night, but Hippie had mentioned sometimes the locals aren’t too keen on PCT hikers using that campsite. I think because it’s private land. Her warning was enough to move me along. Plus, what would I do with another 3 hours of daylight if I wasn’t walking?!
I continued walking, seeing a few campsites large enough only for bivy camping. As the afternoon sun sank in the sky, Granite Mountain’s huge shadow spread out over the trail and the valley below. Hiking in shadows always makes it feel like it’s later in the day that it actually is and I picked up the pace to find a good campsite before it got dark.
Entering Earthquake Valley
View of the valley from campsite at mile 73
Campsite at mile 73 (CS073)
I need me some Dirty Girl Gaiters!
I was so grateful to finally arrive at the campsite. My feet and muscles were really aching, I was starting to get cold because I’d been hiking in the shade for over an hour, and I was feeling spooked about being alone. Even as I set up my tent, I kept looking over my shoulder and scanning the ridge above me looking for girl-eating animals. Once inside my tent, though, all those fears melted away. Looking out across the valley with the soft pastel colors of sunset was peaceful and exciting at the same time. I’d put in the mileage, done it alone, and was reaping the benefit looking out of my little front door.
The sky that night was incredible. All the little points of light reminded me of a Native American myth I’d heard as a child about a bird who poked holes in the blanket of night and created the stars. I laid in my tent and looked out the open door waiting for satellites and shooting stars. That evening I saw one of the brightest shooting stars blaze across my view. It was the perfect end to the day.
Day 6- 19 miles to CS093 (Third Gate Cache)
I awoke warm and cozy the next morning because I’d had such a great night’s sleep. It hadn’t been very cold at all on the side of the mountain and my bed had been extra cushy since I doubled up my Thermarest Z-lite and Klymite X Frame sleeping pads. I think that combo is my new favorite camping gear discovery. I’m going to work on making that set-up lighter, maybe cut down the Thermarest to torso length or purchase a torso length version of the X Frame.
Skirting across the valley floor
I had only 3-4 miles to hike before reaching Scissors Crossing. The floor of Earthquake Valley turned out to be way more fun that I thought it would be. It had all sorts of Seussical looking plants, most bigger than I imagined desert plants to be. Scissors Crossing is the junction of Hwy 78 and Country Road S2. This area contains several historic routes and outposts that had been used since the earliest days of Eurpean colonization of Southern California. Check out the Wikipedia article on San Felipe Station, which was used in the 1800’s as a rest stop for travelers, mail delivery, and a military outpost.
Scissors Crossing Water Cache
Cache site instructions
Scissor’s Crossing is a very important stop along the PCT because it’s a water cache in the middle of a very long and very dry stretch of the trail. A local named Larry generously stocks the cache with gallon-sized bottles of water, a trail registry, and a little trash bin, which he empties himself. This was the cache where Ben and I dropped water off to before we hit the trail, not knowing it was so well tended!
Lots of water!
Dirty notes
I hung around the bridge until my solar changer fully charged my phone. As I head out, I noticed a note in the dirt from Eric and Beav. It made my day. I wondered how long ago they’d left the bridge and if, just maybe, I might be able to catch them.
The climb up Grapevine Mountain was exhasuting. It turned out to be a really hot day even though it was December 31st. I was graced by even more beautiful and exotic looking desert plants. They were so elegant they looked like decorations from IKEA… blerg, what does that say about me?
Fishhook cactus
Ocotillo on the San Felipe Hills
Across the San Felipe Valley, on the trail’s western side, are the Volcan Mountains. They create a rainshadow, catching all the rain clouds from the coast, making them wetter, greener, shadier- the ideal choice for the PCT instead of the dry and exposed San Felipe Hills-and they’re privatedly owned. When the trail was being built, the landowners on the Volcan Mountains didn’t allow the trail to cut through their property, so we’re now stuck with the dusty ol’ San Felipe Hills. Thanks, guys!!
I passed a couple older hikers going the opposite direction, and they both said the boys (Eric & Beav) were pretty far ahead. I gave up on the notion of seeing them again. As I approached the top of my climb for the day, the trail leveled out only to produce one very funny looking Eric wearing an Angry Birds beanie. I guess he and Beav had taken a long break and they were just about to shove off again. I was overjoyed to see them, but as Eric started hiking, I knew there was no way I would be able to keep up. Both of them had longer, stronger legs and they carried 8-10 lbs ONLY on their backs. I hadn’t even guessed how much my pack weighed now that I was carrying fuel for two people, the bulky Jetboil, a two-person tent, two sleeping pads, and a heavier sleeping bag. (At least my pack itself was ultralight!)
Eric floated far ahead, but Beav lingered at my pace to chit chat. He was much more social than Eric, and seemed to have a lot on his mind. He’d recently lost both his grandmothers and was now trying to cope with his mother’s illness. Nonetheless, he kept his head up and loved talking, so I enjoyed his company! We reached Third Gate Water Cache to find Eric already curled up in his sleeping bag. Beav griped for awhile about his hyperlight gear set-up saying he missed not having a tent and stove (doing it just so he could keep up with Eric’s crazy pace), all the while I cooked a hot meal from the inside of my cozy tent, siting on my doubled up sleeping pads. I offerd to make him tea, but he passed. It was comforting having the two of them nearby for the night.
Third Gate Water Cache & campsites
Campsite at Third Gate Cache (Halfmile’s CS093)
Day 7- 16 miles to Warner Springs
Eric got up really early to head out. We wished each other “Happy New Year!” and said goodbye. He said I might catch up to them because they’d be resupplying in Ranchita. Beav was up and out 20 minutes later, when the sun finally started to come up. I hiked solo all through the morning, but every now and again I caught a glimpse of Beav just before he turned round bends in the trail far ahead.
Along the San Felipe Hills, view of the San Felipe Valley
The San Ysidro Mountains above Ranchita
It’s always exhilarating to come upon new scenery. The view of the San Ysidro Mountains was fantastic, with their majestically rocky peaks and the rolling hills of the valley below. The little community of Ranchita was somewhere down in that valley, but I would not be visiting as my resupply box was waiting in Warner Springs.
Billy Goat Cave
Billy Goat Cave
Billy Goat Cave is a bit of a landmark in Section B. Some hikers have slept in it, but I think it would creepy. I prefer either a tent or the open sky above me- something about spiders hiding in dark, rocky crevasses. I have to wonder, though, what the cave’s history is- who made it and for what? It’s just so random!
100 miles of Section A completed!
So far, on all of my PCT hikes, every hundred miles have been marked by either an official trail sign, like in Section B, or by assembled rocks and sticks in the dirt. As I knew I was appraoching 100 miles, I kept my eyes out for something, ANYTHING, in the trail. I passed the 100 mile point and there was nothing. I was so bummed! I even double backed thinking I must’ve missed it, but found not a thing. So I made one myself. It was particularly special to me because it was the first time I’d ever done that many miles in a single trip before. Go me!
Shortly after my little 100-mile celebration, I began the descent toward Barrel Springs. Live oaks and tall grasses crowded around the trail. I kept stopping to admire all the vegetation I hadn’t seen before on the trail.
Descending into Canada Verruga
Approaching Barrel Springs
Barrel Springs
I’ll be honest, I had hoped that maybe the boys would be lounging around at Barrel Springs. It would’ve been fun to maybe hitch into Ranchita with them for resupplies, particularly for some Mexican ice cream. They weren’t there, but I hung around Barrel Springs anyway, charging my phone, washing up, and stretching. It was such a beautiful spot, I didn’t really want to leave.
San Jose Del Valle
San Jose Del Valle
Check out how awesomely DIRTY my eyebrows are!
San Jose Del Valle
I see faces… #CarrieWatson
The next several miles through the valley altnerated between open pasture land and oak groves. I saw a number of day hikers, all aiming for Eagle Rock in the middle of San Jose Del Valle. As its name implies, it’s a great big rock shaped astonishingly much like an eagle spreading her wings. I wish there was some information about whether it was ever held sacred by local native americans or not. It’s too stunning to assume it wouldn’t have been used for ceremonies, but there’s no information to verify that.
Approaching Eagle Rock
Eagle Rock
As much as I wanted to, I didn’t hang around Eagle Rock very long because it was SUPER windy. Every time I pulled out my tuna snack lunch, it seemed like all the crackers would blow away. I continued on through the pasture only to be barricaded by a heard of 15 cows. They were curious enough that they wanted to stand a stare at me and didn’t move at all as I approached them, but there was no way to get around or through them. For the next 20 minutes, I shouted “shoo cow!” waited for them to move a few feet, then did it again. It was actually pretty fun.
Traffic jam on the PCT
The trail dropped down into a beautiful wooded creek area (Canada Verde) full of oak trees and grasses. It looked so much like home, it felt like I could’ve hiked only a few more feet to a trailhead and hopped into my car.
Approaching Hwy 79 and Warner Springs
Canada Verde
Canada Verde near Warner Springs
I was overjoyed to reach Highway 79, but it was only 3:00 in the afternoon. Again, I was faced with that dilema of whether to settle in for an early night at an awesome campsite that I could find in the daylight- but probably get bored lying around- or to carry on and potentially have to search for a spot in the dark later. With the knowledge of a Mexican restaurant being only 8 or 9 miles up the road, I decided to make a bit of a celebration out of the day (100 miles of Section A, completo!).
I dropped my pack, flashed my pearly whites and stuck out my thumb. It didn’t take long for a teenager named Joey to pull over. Joey said he was planning to hike the PCT this coming summer, so we nerded out over gear and trail talk. I really hope to see him again in the summer!
Joey dropped me off in Sunshine Summit, a tiny community with nothing except a few homes and Pancho Villa’s Mexican Restraunt. I think my eyes were bigger than my stomach because I ended up with Spinach and Artickoke dip, four large tacos, and a giant piece of chocolate cake. I couldn’t finish it. : (
It was News Year Day when I had arrived in Warner Springs, and so would have to wait until the next morning to pick up my resupply box at the post office. Still sitting in the Pancho Villa booth, I pulled out my maps and counted all my remaining food. Since I had an extra dehydrated dinner in my pack and had just eaten a huge meal at the restaurant, I figured out I didn’t need to pick up my resupply box after all! I could head out on the trail that evening and be at Paradise Cafe an entire day early.
The waitress at the diner was so uncomfortable with me heading back out alone in case I sprained an ankle or something. She insisted that I go to the Fire Station nearby to let them know I was out there. I did actually look for the station, but couldn’t find it. I wasn’t really worried because I had my SPOT.
I started walking back towards Warner Springs along Highway 79 and stuck out my thumb. It’s important to show your face and smile to drivers so they feel good about stopping for you. It took about ten minutes before an elderly couple pulled over, Malcolm and Barbara. They were so sweet and funny, joking and bickering all the way to the trailhead. Malcolm is from England and is championing the animals of the world with his message about veganism and animal cruelty. He’s been writing songs on the issues and is currently writing a book called Beyond the Animal Farm. You can check out his website here.
Camp near Hwy 79
I really wasn’t sure where I should sleep that evening, so I just had Barbara and Malcom drop me off right at the trail. I walked only a few minutes before finding a spot along the Agua Caliente creek bed. Hippie’s warnings about a cougar in this area spooked me and I couldn’t get my tent up fast enough. It’s funny how my mind spirals and turns me into such a chicken sometimes, and that being inside my tent, the thin layer of fabric that it is, is the most comforting thing in the world. Makes me feel like some kind of parakeet- just put a covering over me, and I’ll calm down for the night!
Day 8- 25 miles!!
I awoke early and set out with the sunrise. It hadn’t been as chilly in the riverbed as I expected it to be. For the entire morning the trail climbed the mountains above Warner Valley into Cleaveland National Forest. It followed the shady and grassy creek of Agua Calient up to the rocky trail overlooking Indian Flats Road and Chihuahua Valley.
Warner Valley
Just as I rounded a bend to see Hot Spring Mountain, I came across two day hikers. We joked around a bit and they said they’d seen Eric hiking solo about three hours before. In my mind, I calculated that to mean he was already 9 or 10 miles ahead of me. I thought about Beav struggling with his mom’s illness and that he must have decided to get off the trail to be with her. I didn’t blame him; I don’t think I could stay on the trail if I thought somone I loved was deathly ill back home.
Approaching Hot Springs Mountain
Hot Springs Mountain
Lost in my thoughts on Beav and my own loved ones, I was completely caught by surprise as I turned a corner and found myself in an entirely different world. I had walked into a small basin at the top of the mountains which seemed to contain all the boulders of Cleaveland Forest. At first I really couldn’t figure out was I was looking at; I don’t think I’ve ever seen more boulders in a single place anywhere else on Earth. Some of the boulders were over ten feet tall! As I walked through the basin, wondrous stories popped into my mind of giants with marbles, and ruined ancient cities forgotten and overtaken by mother nature. I stood for minutes on end looking out over the boulders, wanting to take pictures, but feeling like my camera could never do it justice… and I still don’t think it did!
The lost valley of the giants
My next water resource was a private home owned by Trail Angel Mike. Mike and his family have generously allowed hikers to refill their bottles from his tank and hose. He also provides excellent signage, so there was no way I could miss it. No one was home, but as I gingerly walked up to the property I saw Eric walking back up to the trail. What a surprise! He confirmed Beav had decided to head home, but that he was aiming for Idyllwild to catch a football game at a bar there. I told him if he was still at Paradise Cafe when my frined Sabrina picked me up, we could give him a lift into Idyllwild.
Excellent signage
Trail Angel Mike’s on Lost Valley Road
After refilling my bottles and jumping back on the trail, I prepared to tackle Combs Peak by eating a bunch of gummy bears and jelly beans. I know candy’s not ideal fuel, but man it works! I was hauling butt over that mountain. I caught sight of Eric every now and again as he rounded bends way in front of me. The view from Combs Peak was incredible: the desert floor below and the San Jacinto Mountains rising above in the north.
The view north toward Mount San Jacinto
Snow on Combs Peak
Descending Combs Peak (Bucksnort Mountain)
I didn’t see Eric again, but knowing he was in front of me was great motivation. I hiked farther than I planned or even expected I could, putting in 25 miles for the day. As the sun began to set, I scanned for possible campsites, but didn’t see much with all the bushes and sloped canyon walls. It’s typically frowned up, but I decided to camp right on the trail for that night. I tried stretching before it got too cold, but I didn’t have enough time. My muscles were so tight that night, they kept waking me up. I had to squirm in my sleeping bad, pulling one knee up to my chest at a time just to get some relief. In the future, I’m going to try and stretch sooner in the evening!
Last night on the trail
Day 9 – 15.5 miles to Paradise Cafe
I was super excited when I woke up because I knew I’d be enjoying a buger, a shower, and a warm bed by the end of the day. Plus I’d get to pick up my precious Pepper Dog from Trail Angel Sabrina’s. <3 Tule Spring was a short hike down the trail that morning, so I got there while it was still rather cold. This skewed my perception of how much water to carry for the day. I took less than two liters rationalizing that it wasn’t a hot day, that I wouldn’t be needing water for cooking, and that I usually carried so much water I had excess at the end of the day (translating to excess weight). I later regretted being so stupid.
Mojave Yucca (or Spanish Bayonet)
Tule Spring
Around mile 140 in Nance Canyon, I felt a sharp pain in my baby toe. Since I haven’t gotten a blister since 2011, I was sure it was only a rock in my shoe. Ever since I’d discovered toe sock liners at John Muir Trail Ranch while hiking the JMT in 2011, I haven’t had a single blister. I was shocked at finding I did indeed have a good sized blister, but excited to have the opportunity to practice my mad blister treatment skills. Also learned during my 2012 JMT hike, my blister treament consists of clearing the area and a threaded needle with iodine, then threading the needle through the blister and cutting the thread, leaving about 0.25 inches sticking out on either end of the blister. The thread wicks out all the oozing fluid (yuck!), allowing the blister to drain and dry out. I then tape it with athletic tape and throw my socks and shoes back on. In the evenings & on breaks, I take the tape off and let the blister air out. Works like a charm!
Nance Canyon
🙁
After Nance Canyon, the trail descends into Cahuilla Valley, named for the native people who once resided there. You can read about them in this Wikipedia article.
Peace Sign
There are so many little surprises on the trail, and you never know what you’re going to stumble upon. This day I came across rocks assembled in a peace sign. Delightful! That delighted feeling only lasted a little while as I climbed Table Mountain and the day became hotter and hotter. I soon realized I had barely over one cup of water left and over ten miles to hike. Blerg.
Cahuilla Valley
Following footsteps
Part of what made this day so challenging was all the sand I had to hike through. I don’t know what I dislike more, a rocky trail or a sandy trail- probably the sandy one. It takes twice as much effort to climb up soft, shifty trails of sand and it frustrates the hell out of me.
One thing that really kept me sane this day was watching the footprints in the trail. There were two sets of prints I have been following since Scissors Crossing in Seciton A: a smaller set belonging to a hiker only one day ahead of me named Jack Lester and a larger set belong to Eric. I could tell which were Eric’s because his were imprinted OVER Jim’s. I had seen Jack’s name in the trail registries at Scissor’s and at Trail Angel Mike’s, but I never did meet him.
Lost and Found
The trailhead at Highway 74 had several posted signs and messages. One was a note requesting the return of a lost pepper spray, which I had happen to find 10 miles earlier that day. It’ll be fun to mail it back along with a message about where I picked it up.
Another sign posted read “Free Rides to Paradise Cafe!” I called the number and in no time flat they were out to pick me up. What service! Within 20 minutes of calling, I was sitting comfortably at the cafe with a beer calling Sabrina for a ride.
While waiting for my burger, the waitress brought out the trail register for the past year. As I flipped through it, I saw Jim’s name, whose footprints I had followed, and all the previous hikers of the season. I remembered reading some of the journals belonging to these hikers over the summer, just after my knee surgery, and dreaming about when I’d finally get the chance to be out on the trail. And there I was, sitting at Paradise with 152 miles just completed and a total of 270 miles of my PCT journey hiked already- it felt great
“The whole range, seen from the plain, with the hot sun beating upon its southern slopes, wears a terribly forbidding aspect. There is nothing of the grandeur of snow, or glaciers, or deep forests, to excite curiosity or adventure; no trace of gardens or waterfalls. From base to summit all seems gray, barren, silent — dead, bleached bones of mountains, overgrown with scrubby bushes, like gray moss. But all mountains are full of hidden beauty” -John Muir (1918). Chapter 11: The San Gabriels. In Steep Trails.
Installment No. 3 of My PCT Journey
No. 3- Mill Creek Station to Cloudburst Summit, 2013
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Cloudburst Summit: 34.351391, -117.934735
Mill Creek Station: 34.391896, -118.081226
Hill Street Cafe: 34.204211, -118.200406
My next PCT journey took me again through Angeles National Forest and Section D of the PCT. This 20.5 mile day hike began with Sabrina, my personal trail angel, shuttling me from Cloudburst Summit down to Mill Creek Summit Station. With so many miles to put in and with daylight savings approaching, I started hiking just as the sun was coming up over the hill. It was beautiful to watch and great to hike in the morning shade.
Heading up the trail from Mill Creek Summit Station
Skeleton trees
Leftover trees from the 2009 Station Fire
The 2009 Station Fire left this entire area toasted and barren. There were no live trees left, but mother nature moves quickly and the new growth was billowing up around the skeleton pines. The trail climbed slowly, as it would all day, and soon I was able to get views of the valleys below.
Not too far into the hike, I was startled by gun shots and wasn’t really sure if I should be concerned or not about stray bullets hitting me. Luckily, I had worn my red hiking shirt and hoped that’d be enough differeniate me from someone’s potential jerky.
Looking down on Mill Creek Summit Station
It was a dry, dry desert out there, and yet it had a stark kind of beauty. I really enjoyed the views and the little surprises of nature along the way. I came across a spring emerging directly out of the bottom of a tree and Poodle-dog bush is always entertaining because it looks like something straight out of a Dr. Seuss book. It also has an interesting odor, a bit like beer, and I could usually smell it before I saw it. When I first caught the scent, I thought for sure some hunters had dumped a bunch of beer somewhere. As funny as Poodle-dog bush looks and sounds, it can give you a horrible itchy, sore rash, so avoid it!!
Tree Spring
Poodle-dog Bush
“Not even in the Sierra have I ever made the acquaintance of mountains more rigidly inaccessible. … But in the very heart of this thorny wilderness, down in the dells, you may find gardens filled with the fairest flowers, that any child would love, and unapproachable linns lined with lilies and ferns, where the ousel builds its mossy hut and sings in chorus with the white falling water.” -John Muir (1918). Chapter 11: The San Gabriels. In Steep Trails.
Approaching mile 415, the forest began to fill in around me. The land looked more and more like the trail I had hiked near Guffy Campground on the other side of Angeles National Forest with Penderoso and Jeffrey Pines.
Reachings the trees
View towards Palmdale
As I approached Pacifico Mountain, I began to keep an eye out for the dirt road which I would be detouring on. The trail going around Pacifico Mtn. had recently been reported to be overgrown with unavoidable Poodledog Bush. I decided to walk along Pacifico Mountain Road leaving the PCT at mile 413.3 and rejoining it at Pinyon Flats. The detour was roughly 4.5 miles along the very rutted and dusty Pacifico road and a tiny, but paved road called Little Rock Truck Trail. The junction of Pacifico Mtn. Rd. & Little Truck Trail had a small parking area and quite a few trucks and vans were parked there, probably belonging to hunters.
Road walking on Pacifico Mountain Rd.
Angeles National Forest, looking south
Baby tree!
I have never seen larger pine cones in my life than I did that morning walking along Pacifico Mountain Road. They were bigger than my head! I kept looking around trying to figure out which trees they were coming from, but couldn’t spot any equally impressive trees. I’m guessing they came from the older pines, got so big in the Spring that they dropped off, and now all those pine trees have no cones whatsoever.
A Yucca plant
Much later in the day, when talking with my mom, she filled me in on a very personal family history she had with the San Gabriel Mountains. As a child, her grandfather had been taken by his father and his brothers on trips through those mountains. On one of these trips, a rockslide caught the young men by surprise and critically injured the father. They carried him back to civilization and got him to a hospital where he died within a few days. Years later, that child grew up and became a ranger for the very same mountains who took his father’s life. It was the early days of the Angeles National Forest, California’s very first National Forest, and he honored his father by naming Mendenhall Peak and Mendenhall Ridge Road after him.
Pacifico Mountain Rd.
Butterflies on wildflowers
Little Rock Truck Trail
The PCT follows a small road after Pinyon Flats for a bit and then turns off as a footpath at mile 407. There’s a water resource called Sulpher Springs near this turn off, but somehow I missed it. It didn’t matter much, as I had brought all my water for the day with me. It’s just always fun to investigate things along the trail, especially water sources.
Near PCT mile 407
Through this next stretch, I saw several very old looking PCT signs and wondered if they might have been some of the original signs posted in the early 1970’s.
Old PCT sign
Another old trail post
I passed a large family doing a day hike, including a tiny little girl attached to her mother with a pink stretchy leash. I thought to myself, I must be getting close to the highway and picnic area if SHE’s out here. It’s great to see people hiking with their small children, it sets a precedent for that child and helps them build a relationship with the natural world that so rarely happens in modern cities these days.
Just after Three Points Picnic Area and the Hwy 2i crossing, the PCT merges with the very old Silver Moccasin Trail (SMT). This trail originated as frequently used footpaths by the Tongva people, a Los Angeles area Native American tribe. Later, Anglo settlers used the same paths for hunting and in 1942 it was officially designated a wilderness trail by the Boy Scouts. Parts of this trail are narrow footpaths, others look like they were once dirt roads that have been washed out season after season.
Three Points Picnic Area
Stepping onto the Silver Moccasin Trail
Camp Glenwood
PCT 400 mile marker
As I was pushing up toward the Hwy 2g crossing, I almost trotted right past the 400 mile marker. Even though I’m section hiking Southern California and the mile markers don’t indicate how far I’ve come or how far I have to go, I’m always still excited to see them. In a way, they are still milestones for me. As I hike through the various sections, I’m slowly filing in the gaps on my map and each mile marker is symbolic of that section being completed, no matter the order or date of when I hiked it.
It wasn’t long after that I finally came out to Hwy 2f and Cloudburst Summit. It felt good to put in my second ever 20-miler day and I looked back along the mountains I had just climbed up with great satisfaction. As I was planning on a much earned dinner in a diner, I changed into some clean clothes before driving out of Angeles National Forest. My diner of choice that evening was Hill Street Cafe in La Canada Flintridge. I treated myself to a Tequila Lime Linguine with Blackened Chicken and Bell Peppers, a chocolate shake and a salad. It was absolutely excellent and I highly recommend it to everyone, coming off a mountain or not!
With the beginning of the school year in late August, I wasn’t able to jump back on the trail until October. My success in August with Mt. Whitney trip left me feeling strong and grateful. I spent September looking carefully over Halfmile’s maps and weather reports, and decided that Mt. Baden-Powell in Angeles National Forest and PCT Section D would be my next victim.
This hike started with a car shuttle with a little help from my friend and personal Trail Angel, Sabrina. We left my car at Eagles Roost Picnic Area on Highway 2 and then she dropped me off in Wrightwood at the Acorn Trailhead. This was a lovely trail, but it was a steep climb with 1,500 feet gained over just 2 miles.
Acorn Trail, Wrightwood, Ca
Trailhead for Acorn Trail
True to my forgetful nature, I was 30 feet up the trail when I realized I’d left my trekking pole in Sabrina’s car. Luckily, she was still at the trailhead, texting on her phone. It was a delightful suprise to see snow along the trail that morning. One of the reasons I had picked this section of the PCT to hike next is because I wanted to hike it before it became too snowy for comfortable walking. The snow I got to walk through, however, was perfect and put me in the mood for Fall!
Found art
Snow along Acorn Trail
Junction of the PCT and Acorn Trail
Acorn Trail
Reaching the junction at the top of Acorn Trail was a joy, not only because I loved the idea of being back on the PCT again, but also not having to climb UP anymore! I was immediately greeted with spectacular views of Mt. San Antonio, also called Mt. Baldy. At a height of 10,068 ft, it’s the tallest peak of the San Gabriel Mountains.
Mt. San Antonio, Angeles NF
This hike was my second time visiting Angeles National Forest, the first visit being only a quick drive along Hwy 2 earlier that year. To be honest, I unfairly presupposed that it wasn’t much of a forest, that the mountains were crummy and the views urban and smoggy. Turns out I was quite wrong. Yes, there was quite a bit of smog hanging in the valleys, but the drama of the San Gabriel Mountains rivaled that of the Sierras. There were plenty of trees to constitute a forest, and, to my surprise, I was particularly entranced with the views of Antelope Valley and the Mojave desert floor. Topping it off was a sweet, pine smell permeating the air which I didn’t recall smelling in the Sierras.
Mountain and valley views near Guffy Campground
View toward Antelope Valley
It didn’t take long to run into a few hunters, and it seemed they were all camped out at Guffy Campground. Guffy was car camping city! There were SUVs and sedans, blow up mattresses, grills cooking up hamburger patties, giant coolers full of beer and soda, and boom boxes blasting. I was pleased that there didn’t seem to be any hunters up past the campground and that I had the trail to myself again.
Guffy Campground
The PCT just above Guffy Campground
The section of PCT betwen Guffy and Hwy 2 at mile 369.5 gave me that sense of childhood adventure. The one where you feel safe because you’re just exploring your own backyard, but exciting because you don’t really know what you’re going to see around the bend. This was such a new forest to me and it was actually kinda fun to have views of cities and other areas that you could point to and identify. (“Over in that direction is Mojave; that must be Claremont, and that mountain way in the distance could be Santiago Peak in Orange County’s Saddleback formation,” etc.)
View towards Claremont
Mt. San Antonio, aka Mt. Baldy
It’s funny how a little bench, a reservoir, or other man-made structures are so much more exciting on the trail than off. Halfmile’s PCT maps have the ski resorts and reservoirs marked on his map, and it gave me something to look forward to as I marched along the moutain sides. It reminded me of when I was a child (I see a theme here! :-D) on road trips and my mother would tell me to keep an eye out for funny things like Santa Claus statues, roller coaster towers, or special mountains. Any kind of landmark on the trail is always something to look forward to.
Ski lifts
Ski resort reservoir
Passing Blue Ridge Campground, also a popular car camping spot, all sorts of deciduous trees lined the trail. Since we don’t see too much seasonal change in Southern California, small things like leaves changing color and bits of snow on the ground are very exciting. (In fact, shortly after this trip, I was in such a Fall mood that I bought THREE new very Fall-ish looking sweaters.) I’ve always found the natural world so fascinating. Bits of information from middle school science class trickled into my mind about chlorophyll & leaf pigment. Thinking about all the chemical reactions going on inside each plant, geological histories of each mountain, and the daily lives of the local animals entertains me to no end.
Fall colors
373 miles to Mexico, 2,277 to Canada
Soon I was crossing Hwy. 2 and anticipating my arrival at Grassy Hollow Visitor Centor, where I planned to refill water bottles, eat lunch, and roll out my legs on a little foam roller. I’ve been going to physical therapy since I had knee surgery in June, and my new favorite therapy toy was a 6-inch long foam roller. I decided to bring it along for this trip and see how well it worked for me out on the trail. Would it be a nuisance to pack? Would it be worth it’s 11 ounces of weight? Turns out, it is a bit of a nuisance, as I had packed it into my bear canister and then had to stash my food every where else in my pack. However, it was pretty awesome to roll out my legs right there on the trail. Afterwards, I felt like I’d had a quickie deep tissue massage and could easily carry the next batch of water up and over Mt. Baden-Powell.
The visitor center had nice bathrooms, a deck and benches, which I took full advantage of for my lunch break. I stuck my head inside the visitor center to ask where the camp water spigot was, but the ranger and volunteers were nice enough to just let me fill up my bottles in their kitchen sink. Whoohoo! Apparently, the water from the spigot, despite being good enough for drinking, comes out slightly orange.
The center was a charming little museum about the natural history of the forest, complete with maps, old photos, exhibits of pine cones and grasses, and an extremely large looking stuffed mountain lion. Looking into the dead cougar’s glass eyes sent shivers down my spine. No longer did I have that childhood sense of exploring my own backyard.
Grassy Hollow Visitor Center
Lunch
Next, I hiked around Jackson Flat Campground and on towards Mt. Baden-Powell. The 2 miles between Jackson Flat and Hwy 2b seemed to take forever. I was starting to get tired and, trying to determine how fast I needed to hike to summit Mt. B-P before dark, was getting a bit concerned about daylight.
Descending to Hwy 2 and the Mt. Baden-Powell Trailhead
42 switchbacks to reach the top
I saw only hikers coming down the mountain as I headed up toward the summit. It was already 4:00 in the afternoon when I started up and the sun would be setting in about two hours. I could feel the altitude changing as I became more and more out of breath, but I was determined to reach the top before dark. I hustled up the trail, slowly making my way into deeper snow, and counting every switchback along the way.
More snow meant more opportunities for spotting animal tracks, including any surviving relative of the stuffed cougar at the visitor center. There were clearly large cat tracks in the snow that evening, but I couldn’t tell how recent they were. They didn’t look old, but it seemed unlikely a mountain lion would’ve been recently hanging around with so many hikers going up and down during the day. Either way, there was a lion living in the area, and, with the sun sinking quickly in the west, my eyes darted over the terrain and I turned to look up and behind me every few feet.
An hour up the mountain maybe around switchback number 25, I began to feel really exhausted and sore. I was sure some meat eating monster would sense I was an easy target, like I was some wounded, sick animal, and make a meal out of me. To boost my moral and, hopefully, convince carnivores I wouldn’t go down easily, I began shouting out the switch back numbers in the loudest, strongest voice I could muster. I did this all the way to number 39, when I was startled suddenly by two hikers coming down the mountainside. They must’ve thought I was either pretty weird or pretty funny. They promised me I had only a few more switchbacks to go. That was good news because the sun was just about down as I reached the summit of 9,406 ft.
Sunset near Mt. Baden-Powell
Sunset on Mt. Baden-Powell summit
I quickly unrolled my sleeping pad, bivy sack, and sleeping bag on what looked to be the only flat spot, just under an old tree. I cooked up a black bean soup with chicken using my headlamp, and then packed all my smell-ables into my bear canister. I placed the canister up the hill just a bit, but as I started back towards my bivy, I heard a loud and very distinct CRACK. [Heart attack time!] I had done a bit of mental rehearsal on lion encountars, and immediately jumped to my defensive mode. Defensive mode for me consists of the most offensive words and threats that happen to fall out of my mouth in the moment at the top of my lungs: threats of body mutilation, permanent emotional damage that will make a lion second guess ever approaching a human again, and maybe even certain death. So, all these obscenities fly out of my mouth into the stillness of the night on top of Mt. Baden-Powell, and my little Ace Hardware headlamp isn’t strong enough to illuminate my bivy site. I carefully approach my gear, listening for sounds and looking for reflective eyes or dark cat silhouettes. Turns out I’d been screaming threats at my fallen trekking pole. I climbed into my bag before anything else caught my eye, and pulled out a book. Even with a good book and a huge beautiful moon rising in the east, my imagination still got the better of me. For the rest of the evening, a dark animal-like silhouette, which I was sure I could see moving, creeped me out; and, upon morning sunlight, it turned out to only be a dead tree trunk.
Waiting for sunbeams, summit of Mt. Baden-Powell
Moon setting
Day 2
I woke before the first rays of sun and watched the soft colors of dawn feather out on the eastern horizon. Scooping up my entire sleep set-up in my arms, I shuffled to the summit and popped myself back in bed to watch the sunrise. To the west, the sky was still a dark blue and the moon was still making its way west. It made for an enchanting morning.
Watching the sunrise over Mt. Baldy with my very portable Zpacks bivy.
Mt. Baden-Powell campsite
Moon setting in the morning, Mt. Baden-Powell
Since it was chilly, I didn’t bother to change out of my pj’s or eat breakfast until further down the trail. As I tend not to like cooking in the morning, breakfast consisted of jerky and fig bars, with some True Lemon in my water. I must’ve been a bit dehydrated because I just couldn’t seem to satiate my thirst that morning. Less than 30 minutes down the trail I passed a couple who’d also hiked up the afternoon before, passing Mt. B-P and camping along the ridge, in a fairly exposed, but really beautiful spot.
Snow on the PCT
Just past Mt. Baden-Powell
View towards Claremont, between Mt. Baden-Powell and Mt. Throop
I passed numerous day hikers that morning and was still lucky enough to see a couple of deer. It always amazes me how agile they are; they practically glide up and down clifs, over rocks, and through thick bushes as though they were simply skating at the roller rink. They often make me imagine that’s how so many dinosaurs must’ve moved millions of years ago. Bambi: a gentle, little creature of Angeles N.F. or a window to the ferocious and primal Jurassic world!
Little Jimmy Spring
The next goal on the trail was Little Jimmy Spring near PCT mile 384. It was a 5.75 mile hike almost entirely on a gentle downhill. The spring was just past Windy Gap, a trail junction to Crystal Lake with a nice little bench. I met several campers coming and going from the Spring all doing quick overnights at Little Jimmy Campground. This well-flowing spring is built up with a stone wall and deck, and a simple bench.
Another 2.25 miles later, I again found myself crossing Hwy 2 at Islip Saddle. I was feeling tired and, eyeballing the height of Mt. Williamson, was extremely tempted to just road walk to Eagles Roost instead of hiking up and over the mountain.
Just a third of the way up Mt. Williamson, I panicked and thought I might be on the wrong trail. Since there’s a trail closure between Eagles Roost and mile 394 due to an endangered species of frog, many hikers take a detour called South Fork Trail. This detour trail begins at Islip Saddle along with the PCT and branches off toward South Fork Campground and Punchbowl Creek. I didn’t remember seeing the trail junction at all, and I was in no mood to backtrack down the mountain and then up again on the correct trail. It must’ve been my anxiousness to reach Eagles Roost, but I really felt like I couldn’t think straight. I stared and stared at the map and couldn’t quite determine which trail I was on. Looking at the map now and remembering the terrain, it really shouldn’t have been that hard to figure out.
At the time, I resorted to pulling out my smartphone and using, for the first time ever, Halfmile’s app to locate myself on the PCT. Once a mileage position popped up, I still struggled because I didn’t know if Halfmile called official detours the “PCT,” which would mean I was on the South Fork Trail. If I had only tested out the Halfmile app other places on the trail, none of that confusion would’ve happened. The app is actually VERY clear about whether you’re on the PCT, a detour trail, or a road-walk. It even tells you how far off trail you might been and in what direction! I decided to trust I was on the PCT and not the detour, and hiked upward hoping to come upon a very distinct switchback to confirm my location. Indeed, Halfmile had me covered and I was exactly where I should be on the PCT. [How could I have ever doubted you, Halfmile? <3]. It still bugs me, however, that I never even saw the junction for the South Fork Trail.
View from Mt. Williamson, Angeles NF
A desert forest
Downed tree
I was overjoyed to reach the top, round the bend and look down toward Eagles Roost at my little car. The day was hot and I was ready for a big lunch in town. I practically ran down Mt. Williamson to the Hwy 2d crossing and raced myself across the last little section between Hwy 2d & Hwy 2e. I was making spectacular time and not even a big, bushy downed tree on the trail could slow me down. With branches cracking & limbs scraping, I charged over the tree and down to towards the highway and picnic area. Lunch followed shortly at Newcombs Ranch Bar and Restaurant down Hwy 2, which was not as awesome as I was hoping.
On August 5th, seven weeks after knee surgery, I found myself at the summit of Mt. Whitney. [applause, applause!]
I found myself on that summit for several reasons: the love of hiking, excellent medical care, determination and hard work. I was absolutely determined not to allow an injury to hinder my love of hiking. When I first injured my knees, I was heartbroken at the prospect of never hiking a long trail, or even day hiking, again in my life. Luckily, I had an excellent surgeon and physical therapist, who put me in right order in no time. Two years prior, I had to exit the John Muir Trail (JMT) after 90 miles because torn cartilage in both knees left me scooting down Selden Pass on my backside. In the year leading up to the JMT, I had fallen in love with the idea of long distance hiking, but hadn’t yet done a backpacking trip longer than 3 days. Every minute of planning for that trip and every day on the trail had been a joy, and leaving the trail early was crushing. I cried like a baby at Muir Trail Ranch as I faced the decision to leave early. It seems like a small thing, but it was one of the most disappointing moments of my life.
Post surgery dance!
Fast-forward to June, 2013. As I sat in the surgeon’s office, discussing the operation and recovery, I made the decision, then and there, I would hike the entire Pacific Crest Trail over the next year. In my mind at the time, the PCT was the ultimate long distance trail; and, if I strove for it, maybe even succeeded, I felt I would have truly healed: body and heart.
It makes sense that my journey should start with the tallest peak in the contiguous United States, right? I chose to start with this particular section of the PCT and Mt. Whintey because I missed out on it when I didn’t finish the JMT. Plus, it’s one of the best places to do an August hike!
I’ve decided to section hike Southern California until the end of the school year, and then begin my thru-hike next Spring. If I go northbound, I’ll begin the thru-hike at Onion Valley and finally complete the remaining miles of the JMT; if southbound, I’ll end at Onion Valley. Either way, it kinda feels like coming full circle.
No. 1- Horseshoe Meadows to Onion Valley, 2013
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Onion Valley Trailhead: 36.771323, -118.340097
Horseshoe Meadows: 36.447730, -118.169289
Toilet: 36.567288, -118.335929
Day 1
The first trail steps of my PCT Journey began after a car shuttle. I left my car at Onion Valley Campground below Kearsarge Pass and was driven by my good friends, Jonathan and Brendan, to Horseshoe Meadow. We stopped in between for lunch at Lone Pine’s Mt. Whitney Restaurant. I think our server was having a bad day, but the Pasta Primavera was DELICIOUS!
Jonathan & Eve
Brendan
As I disembarked from Horseshoe Meadow and the boys (it was adorable how much they fussed over me— thanks, guys!), my stomach was all a flutter with excitement and apprehension. What if my knees didn’t work? What if I was lonely and scared? What if I was cold, PMSy, or my homemade food sucked? OH, WELL! I was out the gate and there was no point in worrying any more. I was going to take one step at a time and one night at a time, and each of my fears would just have to wait in line like everything else!
My plan took me up Trail Pass Trail a couple miles to join the PCT near mile 745.5. If arriving at Horseshoe Meadow made me feel like a 6 year-old at Disneyland’s gates, then stepping onto the PCT felt like climbing into a car on Space Mountain!
I intended to only hike about 3 miles and find a campspot near Poison Meadow Spring. Despite really taking my time climbing up Trail Pass Trail, I still felt like I was making excellent time, especially after I had reached the PCT and the trail had leveled off. I had found my stride and it felt great! I took time to look around at the views, trees, rocks, & vegetation. I’ve always loved the drama of the rocks and trees in the Sierras. As the sun became low in the sky, I reached for my super cute, super cheap pink sunglasses only to find them missing already. I dropped my pack and scurried back along the trail at least 2/3 of a mile looking for the glasses, to no avail! Shuffling back to my dropped pack, I saw that the sun was ready to set and I still hadn’t found a place to camp. Bivy camping means pretty much anywhere could potentially be a camping spot— I could sleep directly on the trail if I had to, but it’s not the best. Nonetheless, a beautiful campsite appeared not too far up the trail.
Horseshoe Meadow looking towards Trail Peak
I tossed out my sleeping pad, unrolled my Zpacks bivy sack, and changed into my pj’s. After getting every thing set-up for cooking dinner, I noticed, for the first time, how very quiet it was around me. As I had seen only a few hikers that afternoon, and they were all exiting the trail as I entered, I felt quite alone. I boiled some water and poured it into a freezer bag with dry quinoa and chicken soup. Dropping my water balloon of a dinner bag into a cozy, I crawled over the rocks to watch the sunset across the valley below.
First night’s camp, near mile 748
Lots of my gear was new for this trip, and I was still getting used to it. In an attempt to lighten my base weight, I treated myself to a Zpack’s Arcblast backpack, a Zpack’s bivy sack, a Therm-a-Rest Z-lite sleeping pad, and a little Trangia alcohol stove. I was also trying out a new FlexAir Ultralight Pillow, which I had read about on Lady on a Rock’s blog. (It’s a great blog, so check it out!)
Please note the tree & rock drama.
Comfort being a top priority for me in the backcountry, I was excited to find a comfortable pillow that weighs less than an ounce. The pillow gets inflated with a plastic straw, and then some ingenious folds in the material trap the air inside once the straw is removed. After having tested the pillow at home with great success, I was frustrated to no end as my head kept slowing sinking to the cold ground throughout the night. I couldn’t figure out if I had screwed up the fabric folds in the pillow or if maybe it had something to do with the elevation, but there were no pillow parties to be had that night.
View from first night’s campsite
The first night out in the wilderness is always the toughest, particularly when you’re alone. It had been over a year since I’d slept in the woods, and almost two years since I’d done my one and only other solo trip. The silence presses in on you, the unfamiliar feel of your sleep set-up and the climate against your face, and the inevitable boredom which your mind, just for entertainment’s sake, spins toward dark, scary thoughts. I found myself straining for the sound of cracking branches, indicating an approaching bear, lion, demented hiker, or aliens… I fancied I’d distract myself with star gazing, but my face was so cold I couldn’t be bothered to stick it out of my bag. I was beginning to feel like a failure. “How can I handle a week out here, if I can’t get past one night?!” As I couldn’t shut down my new super power of extra-dimensional senstive hearing, I dug out my Kindle and listened to Little Bee by Chris Cleave until I fell asleep.
Day 2
Waking up the next morning, I felt like a new person… a new person with a dead Kindle battery. Looking around my comfortable, now very safe-looking campsite, I felt silly for being so wound-up the night before. If every night was going to be like the first, I’d have a lot of Kindle charging to do during the day! Tossing that thought aside, I packed myself up and powered through the morning toward Cottonwood Pass and Chicken Spring Lake. As charming as the softly rolling and pine tree-carpeted mountains of the southern Sierras were, I was anxious to move into higher elevations, the more dramatic mountains, and the otherworldly scencery that comes with them.
Meadow near Cottonwood Pass
View of Horseshoe Meadow from Cottonwood Pass
While surveying the view of Horseshoe Meadow from the top of Cottoonwood Pass, I met at least 10 hikers and a dog. Seeing so many people, I again felt silly about the previous night’s mental drama. One of the hikers I met was fun lady named Suma Fong training for a hike in Peru, and it turns out she lives not far from my neighborhood in Southern California. We exchanged info and I hope to hike with her soon!
Chicken Spring Lake
Fantastic views from above Chicken Spring Lake
My goal for Day 2 was to hike 12.5 miles to Rock Creek and camp there for the night. Along my way I continually leapfrogged with a family of 6 also aiming for Mt. Whitney. After passing Chicken Spring Lake, the next water source would be Rock Creek, so I carried several quarts of water for the day. For most of the day, the trail was quite warm, dry and dusty.
Dusty trail
Teva’s Zirra Sandals with Injinji Toe Socks
As the day went on, my feet started to hurt, so I thought I’d try some sandal hiking for the first time ever. It was pretty awesome, and I think I might be hooked! Your feet do get exponentially dirtier hiking in sandals, but that just gives you an excuse to soak them at the creek. Just be extra mindful as you’re placing each step because a small slip can easily lead to a bloody toe.
Rocks stacked like library books
The afternoon turned out to be a lovely hike down into the Rock Creek area. There were more trees, grass, meadows, and little brooks feeding into the larger Rock Creek. I reached the campground in the late afternoon, and as I passed the first, totally sweet looking campsite, I spotted a Hennessy Hammock swinging in the trees. (Side note: I LOVE hammock camping and get super excited when I meet anyone on the same page.) Turns out the hammock belonged to a friendly Orange County kid named David who was hiking with his friend Danny. They were such a couple of kindred spirits, I promised to return for dinner that evening.
Rock Creek
Second night’s campsite at Rock Creek
I was absolutely entranced with Rock Creek. The creek itself was a spakling brown and the soft trees and grass surrounding gave the area a comforting ambiance. There are several campsites along the trail here and a bearbox near the creek crossing. I pulled EVERYTHING out of my pack and spread it all out as if I were in my living room at home. Making myself feel even MORE at home, I walked down the creek, stripped down past my skivvies, and took a very coooold bath.
Zpacks bivy sack
Now that I was as clean as I could get, I boiled water to rehydrate some chicken couscous with veggies and reorganized my pack. With my couscous still cooking inside a cozy, I made my way back up the trail toward David and Danny for a bit of a dinner party. They were such fun! Danny was a vibrant soul with a neverending thirst to exchange information and stories. David was on the quiet and pensive side, but he and I definitely connected over the famous Shug’s Youtube hammock videos. (Check out one of Shug’s Whoooooo Buddy! Youtube videos here.) Since they had both just gotten back from summiting Mt. Whitney, they filled me in on all the details. Such as, get up to Guitar Lake early because all the good spots will be taken quickly! We shared some Trader Joe’s gummy penguins and other simple delights while the night darkened around us. Being the gentlemen they were, they both escorted me down the dark trail and past the other campers.
Day 3
I slept in the next morning until 8am. It seemed the sun was already high in the sky… must’ve been too much partying the night before. Speaking of the night, none of the demons from the previous evening visited me again, to my delight! I think it had much to do with the fact that other campers were mere yards away and I fell asleep to the bell-like sounds of Rock Creek.
Rock Creek crossing
Feeling behind schedule, I threw together my gear and, after nearly tottering into Rock Creek, pushed up the switchbacks that awaited me. As I reached the top of the switchbacks, I felt strong, I felt fast, I felt like Superwoman! … and then I felt hot. I reached over my pack to pull down my Sheila hat, but I was grasping at air. For almost a minute I couldn’t really believe it wasn’t there. I kept reaching around from different directions (probably looked quite funny!), then took off the pack to check, and finally eyeballed the trail below. It was NO WHERE. I had left it back at Rock Creek, waaaaaay below the switchbacks I had just powered up. After having lost my uber cute pink sunglasses on Day 1, I wasn’t about to loose my Sheila hat, too. Down into the trail dirt went my backpack, and down to Rock Creek I charged. Huffing and puffing, not with exhaustion, but with indignation.
On the way down, I passed the family of 6 I had been leapfrogging the day before. Not a word more than “howdy-do” was exchanged, but they seemed to have an idea of the situation; and they parted like the Red Sea for me. There, hanging on a slender, very Charlie-Brown-Christmas-Tree looking sort of pine, was my hat. I snatched it up and, with a few indecent words, crossed Rock Creek for the third time. The family and I had a good laugh at my expense as I hustled back to my pack. I told them, I’d probably see them over and over at the rate I was going.
Guyot Flat, PCT mile 763.5-ish
View towards Crabtree Meadow, Mts. Hitchock, Russell, & Hale
It was a lovely day for hiking and the 8 miles went by quickly. Every corner I turned, every hill I topped was exciting. I kept humming “The Bear Went Over the Mountain…” over and over. It got old, but the views didn’t!
Lower Crabtree Meadow & Crabtree Creek
Stepping into lower Crabtree Meadow was a magical moment for me. It had the quintessential soft grass, green trees, mountain views, and babbling brook. The magic couldn’t even be broken by a very grumpy hiker who, according to his lady companions, hadn’t eaten enough that day.
I stopped at the meadow for lunch and device charging. Next time, I need to rig up my pack so I can just charge my gear while I walk. I’m using a Suntactics solar charger and love it! It’s lightweight, right for the price, and hasn’t ever failed me.
Suntastics solar charger & Kindle
My new favorite spot on planet Earth
At that point, I temporarily departed the PCT and stepped onto the JMT, the trail I was so heartbroken to leave two years prior. The JMT pretty much follows the PCT all the way from Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite to Crabtree Meadow, then breaks off and finishes at the summit of Whitney.
The “welcome” sign at Upper Crabtree Meadow
At Rock Creek Junction, there’s a famous box full of “wag bags” which you’re required to carry above that elevation for your… um… waste. I think most people fly through the junction, pick up their bag, and head on up. Seeing as I wanted to poke around Upper Crabtree Meadow, which was just across the creek from the junction, I was lucky enough to spot a peculiar sign to find in the wilderness: “Toilet.”
The outhouse was located at the end of the meadow on a raised platform and had just two walls. As you sat there, you looked straight out onto the meadow. It truly felt like a throne, and I had to laugh as I sat there.
Looking down on Lower Crabtree Meadow
All the way up to Guitar Lake, the trail follows Whitney Creek, which was just beautiful. Every time I happened upon a little beach or conventiently placed sitting rock next to the creek, I wanted to stop and absorb it all. I was careful not to dilly dally too much, as I remembered David and Danny’s advice about getting up to Guitar Lake early for a good campspot. And an excellent campspot I did find!
Third night’s campsite at Guitar Lake
Dinner by the lake
There must’ve been at least 30 campers at Guitar Lake that evening; and, yes, all the good spots were taken quickly! I had fun stacking rocks around my little home for the night. I knew there probably wouldn’t be any wind, but the inner Lincoln Log-lovin’ child in me couldn’t resist. Dinner that evening was ramen with chicken and veggies with a fabulous lakeside seat.
I chatted with a trio of Brits next door who were all very interesting and fun. One of them was a music critic from London, one of them had two knee replacements, and one of them helped me rig up my trekking pole to hold the bivy cord away from my face.
Bivy with rigged up trekking pole
Day 4
I expected it to be a cold night because we were at an elevation of 11,552 feet. Turns out the rocks gave off a fair amount of warmth and cold air likes to sink to the bottom of valleys. It was quite chilly at 4:00 in the morning when I woke up. I peeked out of my nest and saw a train of twinkling lights making its way up the side of Mt. Whitney. Turns out many hikers had started hiking at 2 a.m. to catch the sunrise at the summit. I thought how noble and awesome they all were, and then snuggled deeper into my bag. An hour later I was up and packing. I set off for the climb in the dark with the trail to myself. The Brits were up, too, but took their time making tea.
As I reached the tarns just above Guitar Lake I was already feeling winded and my pack felt heavy. Further up, an older gentleman caught me by surprise when he called from off the trail, “Last water source!” That got us talking and, since I was going to be coming back down the same way, he convinced me to leave all my gear right there on the side of the trail. At first I wasn’t sure it was a good idea. What if someone stole something? What would I do without a sleeping bag or my stove? Upon further consideration, I came to the conclusion no one in their right mind would want to carry any more gear either up Whitney or down it, so my gear was sure to be safe! Learning to trust other hikers was a new lesson for me that day.
Early morning light on Guitar Lake
The first beams of sunlight hitting the tips of the mountains
I felt kinda naked with only my lunch, water bottles, and camera/phone in my big backpack, but I also felt lighter! My new friend, Kellen, and I hiked all the way to the summit together. We had some good chats along the way about life back home (he’s an attorney from New Mexico, who does Shakespearean acting on the side) and pointing out cool views to each other.
Chilly morning!
Mt. Hitchock and reflection in it’s lakes, with Whitney’s shadow
Mt. Whitney switchbacks
Small bivy campsite halfway up the switchbacks
The switchbacks were really not so bad going up, plus the views were a great distraction from any physical discomfort. I do wonder, though, if there is possibly a rockier place in the universe that Mt. Whitney.
Halfway up the switchbacks, we came to a well known bivy campsite. It gave me the shivers just looking at the sheer drop off one side of the site. I knew that if I ever camped there, I’d be the goose who got up in the night for a pee and tumbled off the side!
Rockiest place in the universe
Passing Whitney Portal Trail Crest, it was just another 1.9 miles to the summit. The next portion of the trail was even rockier than the switchbacks, and scrambling over rocks with verticle drops to one side gave me a sense of mountaineering, rather than hiking.
Climbing an earthen wave
There were many moments of lightheadedness as I adjusted to the altitude, but I felt good nonetheless. Kellen and I reached the top just before the Brits and shortly after the sunrise crowd had left. We’d also beaten the crowd coming up from Whitney Portal, so we pretty much had the summit to ourselves. I sat there and ate my hummus and crackers, taking pictures, and counted how many weeks it’d been since my knee surgery. I didn’t cry for joy or anything, but I did feel really good about myself. I tried calling my parents, but didn’t get any reception. One of the Brits did, though. It was surreal listening to him talk to Delta about changing his return flight to the UK.
Actually, the height is now 14,505 ft.
Just as the Whitney Portal hiker pack started to trickle in, Kellen and I moved on out. He moved much faster than me down the mountain because my knees, which felt so great going up, were hurting on the way down- and what a long way down it was! I stopped at Guitar lake to eat lunch and soak my knees in the freezing cold water. In order to get my knees in the water, I had to actually SIT in the water. It was icy cold and I sat there for as long as I could stand it. As soon as a breeze kicked in, my whole body began shaking like my old Mazda on it’s last legs; I was outta there. Looking back, I think maybe I should’ve made a cup of hot tea to sip while soaking.
Earlier that day, I had thought I’d hike further down and camp at Wallace Creek, but my knees were saying “No, too much down hill!” I decided I’d aim for Upper Crabtree Meadow instead. It’d be nice to check out my friend, the outhouse, again, anyhow!
Upper Crabtree was overrun with a charming group of 12 year old Boy Scouts from Orange County and their dads. They were super friendly, and I couldn’t help but gawk at the amount of Mountainhouse and Backpacker’s Pantry meals they’d brought, not to mention the size of their stove. With all the gentlemen around, I had to be especially discreet about sponge bathing up the creek and changing into my pjs behind bushes. Kellen camped nearby and, with all the people that night, there was definitely a festive feeling in the air.
Boy Scouts playing stick ball…
Dad scouts doing the dinner clean-up.
Fourth night’s campsite at Upper Crabtree Meadow
Day 5
It appeared to be true: the cold air definitely seemed to settle in the lower elevations because it was cold that night! I was up at 6 a.m. and sneaked out of camp before anyone else was awake. I wasn’t really sure where I might camp that evening, but my original goal had been Tyndall Creek below Forester Pass. I decided I’d just take it easy and see how my knees felt when I got there.
Kellen, the Shakespearean attorney from New Mexico
Two miles down the trail that morning, I stoped to change out of my pj’s and eat breakfast. As I dug through my pack, I had the feeling something was missing. Hat? Check. Spot GPS? Check. Bivy?Check. Kindle? … iPod? … solar charger? … Having taken out my electronics bag that morning to pack up my bear canister, I had left the bag on top of the bearbox. Again went the backpack into the dirt, and again began the huffing and puffing of indignation, only this time, it was surlier. A mile into my electronics bag recovery mission, I passed Kellen on his way up the trail. He offered to wait for me and I told him not to bother, that I’d catch-up. And catch-up I did! It was amazing how fast I could move without a backpack. With a quick “Good Morning!” to the Scouts, I scooped up my bag and dashed back to my waiting pack. Kellen must’ve been taking his sweet time because he was only a bit further up the trail after I grabbed my pack (now with all gear accounted for).
Wallace and Wright Creeks were the next crossings and both were lovely spots. Part of me regretted not being able to camp at Wallace Creek because it was so pretty. As I hiked along, I suddenly found myself in the middle of what looked very much like the surface of Mars. Turns out it was Bighorn Plateau and I had completely forgotten it was coming up! It’s striking and austere beauty took away my breath, and I repeatedly stopped to gaze around. My photos can do it no justice because the camera just couldn’t capture the sense of immense space and of earth meeting sky.
Bighorn Plateau
Bighorn Plateau
Kellen moved on ahead and I was left to my own devices on the trail. Coming upon Tyndall Creek, I seriously considered staying there for the night because it was so nice, but it was only 2:00 and my legs were feeling good. As I had chosen to wear sandals this day, my feet were also feeling great. The sun was warm, the grass was soft- I could’ve just napped! Kellen had mentioned that there really wasn’t a place to camp between Tyndall and the other side of Forester Pass. At 13,180 feet, Forester is the highest pass on the PCT. I did some math and figured out that if I chose to do Forester Pass that afternoon, I’d get home a day early, and that settled it!
Lunch by Tyndall Creek
Tyndall Creek
The trail leading up to Forester Pass is a long, slow climb. It’s hard to believe you’re at such a high elevation because the ascent is so gradual. The only thing that gave me any indication of the altitude was my breathing. The afternoon trickled on and I felt like I wasn’t making much progress at all. The pass still appeared to loom far ahead. Everytime I stopped for a break, I checked the map again. Even though Kellen had said there were no campsites between Tyndall and the other side of Forester, the map showed a small site right at the base of the pass’s switchbacks. I decided that if I couldn’t make it over Forester, I’d camp there for the night. That backup plan looked less and less like a backup and more like a reality as dark clouds pooled in the sky and I still felt so far from the pass.
Approaching Forester Pass
Forester Pass
Everyone I passed on the trail was heading down for the day. Reaching the last tarns before the switchbacks, I found the little bivy site. It looked cold and exposed, and with the threat of rain on my tarpless shelter set-up, I wasn’t feeling good about it. I looked up at the switchbacks, towering straight above like a skyscraper. There, halfway up, was a little red T-shirt I recognized. I yelled up to Kellen and asked if he thought I should stay put or heave on over. He said to go for it and he’d wait for me on the other side.
Swallowing a fruit leather and my fear of being struck by lightening, upward I charged. I was so determined to get over the pass before rain or thunder that I didn’t stop to take any pictures. Looking down was practically out of the question. It was a sheer drop to a very nasty end if I fell, and it made me dizzy peering over the side. The closer I got to the pass, the darker the clouds became. I kept wondering if my hair would get staticy and be shortly follow by Zeus aiming at me from above! As if the clouds knew I was nervous and wanted to see me get even jumpier, little snowflakes began to fall gently all around me.
Evolution Valley just past Forester Pass, Kings Canyon NP
Since, the weather had been predicted to be rain free, I hadn’t bothered to bring any waterproof gear. It seemed that if I wasn’t going to be electrocuted, I was still going to be chilled in my wet clothes and sleeping bag. I hustled over the pass to catch up with Kellen and could hardly believe the beauty of the valley on the other side. It looked like a prehistoric secret valley straight out of The Land Before Time. Again, it seemed as if the clouds were having a good go at me for their own entertainment because just as I reached Kellen, they began to break up. The snowflakes were still falling, but things were looking up for the evening!
I tailed after Kellen far enough down the valley to reach a collection of incredible campsites among some trees. Each site seemed to be cut into the hillside like Mesa Verde, and the beginnings of Bubbs Creek wrapped around them all.
Fifth night’s campsite near PCT mile 783
An older couple were camped just above the site I picked. Hearing my plan of camping below the Forester switchbacks, the wife exclaimed it was good that I hadn’t. She said it was called Forester Base Camp and that she’d stayed there once only to find herself sinking into the damp earth all night long. I’m so glad I didn’t choose to bivy camp there! I felt VERY safe and cozy with the site I had for the night. I cooked up another qunioa and chicken soup and Kellen shared some of his leftover Mountain House Beef Chilli Mac. Checking the map, I couldn’t believe I’d actually put in 20 miles that day, especially with just my sandals. Without the electronics recovery mission, it would’ve only been 16 miles. Even though those 4 miles were done without a pack, I took pride in knowing it was the farthest I’d ever walked in a single day in my life. I fell asleep delighted at the thought of putting in more 20-miler days on the PCT and dreamed of having a burger in Lone Pine the following afternoon.
Day 6
Frosty morning!
It was another cold night and I hiked the next morning amazed at all the frost around me. For most of the morning, the trail followed Bubbs Creek down into Evolution Valley. Bubbs must’ve been some guy to get such a beautiful, prominent creek named after him!
After a few miles of hiking together, Kellen needed to turn off onto a different trail. We said our goodbyes and congratulated each other on our Whitney summit. It was great having someone else for those moments of success and fear. And it’s those moments, which I know there will be more of, that make me hope to meet many more people like him on my PCT journey.
Bubbs Creek
My own turn off from the PCT came up soon after Kellen departed. My exit trail would take me 7.1 miles over Kearsarge Pass and down into Onion Valley, where my car awaited me. They were surely some of the prettiest 7 miles I’d done on this trip. Or maybe they were just like all the other pretty spots I’d walked through, but these were extra special being, as they were, the final miles of the trip. The climb was difficult, but the lakes I passed were stunningly clear. I was tempted to relax for the afternoon by a couple of them, but the call of a Lone Pine burger was too strong! I made a mental note to come back to Bullfrog and Kearsarge Lakes for a little camping, exploring, and maybe fishing someday.
The pond below Bullfrog Lake
Crystal clear water
Kearsarge Pinnacles and Kearsarge Lakes
Kearsarge Pass
The long steep climb over Kearsarge was nothing compared to going down the other side. This trip taught me my knees would carry me uphill as far as I wanted, but downhill needed to be approached with TLC. I was really aching as I neared Onion Valley. Just as I was about to exit the trail, I saw a young hiker wearing a T-shirt from a school I where teach, and I stopped him to see if he’d been a student there. Indeed he had been! It was incredible to chat with him about mutual acquintances there at the end of Kearsarge Pass! It’s amazing to me how we can step out of our comfortable civilized bubbles, and still find people to connect with.
Gilbert Lake and Kearsarge Pass
Days 1-4; I traveled left to right on this chart from Halfmile’s maps.
There are a number of Facebook groups for the PCT worth checking out: section hikers, trail angels, the PCTA, and class of whatever year you want! Just type PCT into the Facebook search bar and they’ll all pop up.
Our trip began with an early morning drive to Idyllwild to drop off our car & meet Sabrina, our good friend and personal Trail Angel. The plan was to cover 26 miles of Section B in San Jacinto State Park. Sabrina shuttled me, Art, Pepper the dog, & all our camp-crap down to Cabazon on Highway 10. She dropped us off right on the side of the highway, waved goodbye & drove off with Pepper looking horribly concerned in the front seat.
The PCT beneath the train tracks & Hwy 10
Trains alongside Hwy 10 near Cabazon
Cabazon is a small, desert community established in 1870 when Southern Pacific Railroad built a station in the area. It’s mostly known for outlet shopping, a casino, and Claude Bell’s giant dinosaur sculptures (as some may remember from Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure). The PCT slips under the highway and train tracks at this point (PCT mile 209.5), then winds it’s way through the sandy valley. It’s actually really easy to loose the trail here because it washes out so easily in the rain and wind.
PCT mile 209ish. Windmill farm in the distance
After having to continually redirect ourselves back onto the trail, Art & I found ourselves on Snowcreek Canyon Road and in the artsy, little residential community hiding against the base of the mountains. Right then, I had a moment of panic as I believed I’d forgetten to pack matches and couldn’t find any when we checked our packs. In classic hiker trash style, we waltzed up to a gentleman working in his garage and asked if we could buy some matches. He and his wife were kind enough to just give them to us, not to mention they flattered us immensely when they assumed we were PCT Southbound Thu-hikers all the way from Canada!
Water Resource at mile 207- just a friendly homeowner on Falls Creek Road sharing his garden hose.
Working our way up Falls Creek Road, we were greeted by a surly looking man in an SUV with high powered binoculars and a hunting camera. He had been watching us climb the road for 20 minutes and kept reversing his SUV until we reached the trail turn-off and a lonesome looking water faucet. As talkative as this guy was, he was SUPER secretive about the water and the agency that owns/guards it. They actually have a man living up the canyon to guard the spring/creek/whatever-it-is 24-7. Our new friend said they especially wanted to keep out hunters and punks. LOL! I wouldn’t argue with that! He showed us photos of the local mountain lioness that prowls the hills… [Small note about me: just thinking about mountain lions gives me the heebeegeebees.] At that point, I hustled Art to get a move on up the trail and away from lion stories.
The Faucet of Golden Water (Water Resource of mile 206)
Climbing above Cabazon
My good friend Carrie has a picture collection of faces she sees in random objects. Now I’m seeing them everywhere, too. Soon as I saw the big potato head rock, I had to snap this one for Carrie!
I see faces…
Sacred Datura, or Morning Glory flowers
As we climbed, the mountain’s shadows quickly start to spread over us and gave the impression it was much later in the day. I kept freaking out, thinking it would be dark soon and we must be hiking too slow. I wasn’t especially keen on night hiking after stories of the local lion.
Still climbing…
200 miles to Mexico…
and 2,450 miles to Canada!
<— —>
This was super fun to see!
Art and I did end up hiking into the night, which I found spooky because I didn’t have a headlamp good enough for night hiking. I had brought a little Ace Home Improvement headlamp, which is super light, but only good enough for cooking & mucking around in the tent. Since my cell phone was actually brighter than my headlamp, that’s what I had to use. With the help of Halfmile’s maps, we managed to find a sweet campsite near mile 197. The view that evening was so lovely with all the twinkling red windmill lights below in the valley, and there were hundreds of them! The evening was ideal for camping as there was no wind and the air was only a little cool. We brought our Big Anges King Solomon double-wide 15°F sleeping bag for this trip, which made the night extra cozy! Since we weren’t concerned about bears, our Backpacker’s Pantry Jamaican Jerk Rice and Chicken dinner was eaten from inside our sleeping bag.
First night’s campsite, near mile 197.
Day 2- 10 miles
The next morning we awoke to an incredible view of the desert valley. Breakfast consisted of fig bars and fruit leather, plus a protien bar for Artie. I vetoed the hot tea option because we wouldn’t be reaching our next water source for another 10.75 miles. We were pretty slow going day two, as Art wasn’t used to the elevation and we were carrying LOTS of water.
The PCT above Cabazon
After hiking for so long in the dry, desert habitat, it was satisfying to finally reach some living trees. We stopped there for an early lunch of tuna salad with crackers, cookies, and dried fruit.
Checking our mileage, we noted we’d have to reconsider where we would camp that night, as we were hiking slower than we’d expected. No matter! We were loving being amongst the trees and having expansive views of forest and valley floors.
Manzanita tree
Approaching Fuller Ridge
Around mile 192.5 we came near a dirt road and a trail sign indicating the trail for northbounders. Continuing on what looked VERY much like the only southbound trail option around, we soon found ourselves OFF trail. ARGH! This made for a rather grumpy moment because we were already behind schedule and double backing being, of course, out of the question, we scrambled up the steep, bushy hillside until we found the trail again.
Looking northwest, over Hwy 243
Still approaching Fuller Ridge…
We hustled up the trail and soon found ourselves walking through yet another very different ambience: snow! I’m always getting excited by snow because I grew up in Southern California and never had snow play vacations.
Snow along Fuller Ridge
Much better signage!
Little cougar print?!
I hiked on ahead of Art for the afternoon trying to determine how far a decent campsite would be and how close we could get to the water resource. As the day went on, I saw incredible views, trees, and boulders, but I forgot to actually take pictures! Around mile 187 I found a really great campsite and decided that even though we hadn’t reached the water yet, this was the spot for us. I was also concerned about Art hiking to catch up to me in the dark, especially since I had the map. I dropped my pack, grabbed some water bottles and hiked another half mile up to the North Fork San Jacinto River Tributary. It was super icy and I nearly fell on my butt several times, all for the fun of it!
North Fork San Jacinto River Tributary
Sunrise looking toward Lake Hemet
By the time I returned to my backpack down the hill, Art was lounging comfortably on the rocks. We threw up the tent because the sun was setting fast. I made hot tea and we snacked on jerky and fruit while we waited for our Beef Stroganoff and Beef Chilli Mac to rehydrate. I even ate an entire box of Trader Joe’s Dried Seaweed- it was deliciously salty. It was such an early night for us with the sun going down at 5:00. By 7pm, Art was already asleep! That night was much colder than the first because we were now at an elevation of around 9,000 feet. Art slept like a rock, but I woke up at 3am cold on one side. I kept rotating like a rotisserie chicken against the toasty furnace of Art next to me.
Second night’s campsite near mile 187
Day 3- 6 or 7 miles
A cold morning at camp
We were determined to start hiking by 6am so we could grab second breakfast in Idyllwild. The alarm went off at 5am and we were pretty successful at making tea and eating breakfast, but not so successful at getting out of bed and packing up. It was so chilly out! We both hiked for the first few hours in our long johns and didn’t take them off until we past Strawberry Junction. We made our way back up to the Tributary and, since we made so much tea, we filled up the bottles again. It was a winter wonderland up on that ridge!
Wonderful wintery land!
Coming down the mountain, approaching Deer Spring Trail
With the promise of a scrumptious meal and cold beer in Idyllwild, we moved pretty fast that morning. We zipped right past Deer Spring— which was still flowing, but looked pretty mucky— and a sweet looking campground with tables and a tap to the spring, still in the process of being built. Approaching Strawberry Junction was exciting because there was an outhouse. Nothing like an outhouse to brighten your day in the woods!
Just south of Strawberry Junction
Just past Strawberry Junction, however we came across a trail closure sign. When I planned the trip, I had heard about the PCT being closed from Hwy 74 up to Devil’s Slide, but not up to Strawberry Junction. This meant we had to turn around and hike down Deer Spring Trail to Hwy 243. We road walked back into Idyllwild and then hitched a ride up to our car in Humber Park. It worked out beautifully!
Once at the car, we changed into our street clothes and hurried down to Cafe Aroma in downtown Idyllwild. The local gentleman who’d given us a lift recommend it, and it was DELICIOUS! I think we could’ve stayed there all afternoon if we didn’t need to pick up Pepper from Sabrina and then drive three hours home.