This morning was the first time on the trail that I felt beaten before lunch. The first few miles followed Mission Creek upstream. It was a seemingly endless slight uphill grade on loose baseball-sized gravel or sand. These are my two least favorite hiking surfaces.
By the time we crossed Mission Creek for the last time, before the real climbing began, I was ready for bed. Plus, we found actual poodle dog bush. I was glad to know what it actually looks like, but unhappy about it in general. It really does smell like marijuana. I thought the thruhiking who told us that was exaggerating.
I think the previous two days of extremely hot weather and lots of elevation change drained me. Plus, I think my hiker hunger has set in. I can’t get by on 1,000 calories throughout the day followed by a big meal at night. I need more during the day. Like, something every half hour. So hungry. Almonds were what got me through the day.
By mile 10 my feet were hot and bothered. A short break felt nice in the moment, but as soon as I stood up the deep ache came back.
Within the last four miles of the day, we came upon trail magic twice! Trail magic is food, water or other services provided to hikers by generous locals as we pass through their area. Today we got soda and candy. Delightful!
My feet are still tender as I snuggle down into my sleeping bag. I wonder if my shoes are wearing out. We’ve covered over 250 miles and I put a couple hundred miles on these shoes before the trail. I am going to see how tomorrow goes and if I’m still sore, I’ll buy a new pair.
See that snow capped mountain far behind Richard? We were in that snow the day before. We also came over the nearer ridge and down into the whitish-looking valley and back out again.
Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the miles, but the hikers slept very quietly overnight at Ziggy and The Bear’s. I woke up a couple of times to shift positions and the rustle of my sleeping bag was all I could hear. Even with Interstate 10 about a mile away, it was so still and silent.
I woke up just after 6 a.m. when some hikers started chatting. Most people who were headed out that day did so early as more heat was predicted for the day.
With Richard still fighting his cold, we took a little extra time, but still made it out by 7:30. The day started with a long, mild climb up to a shorter, steeper ascent. From there it was up and down until the afternoon.
A day of ups and downs in the heat carrying lots of water (aka the PCT in Southern California).
Our first water source for the day was the Whitewater River. It is said to be the largest moving body of water we will see in Southern California. It was about five feet across.
The terrain took us deep into the San Gorgorino Wilderness. It seems to be a maze of canyons that somehow fit together as we follow this 18-inch wide stripe of dirt as it winds us knowingly through the turns and twists.
The heat today was intense. Long before midday, we were sweating our way up and down and over. Sometimes the breeze kicked in giving us an occasional respite.
We hid under a tree by Mission Creek for a couple of hours waiting out some of the unpleasantness. Plus, we stopped with only four more miles until our chosen campsite, so we knew we could take some time getting there.
Richard multitasking: soaking his feet in the cool stream while also reengineering the creek to flow closer to us.
We had some concern that one of the abundant plants growing along, and sometimes in, the trail was the dreaded Poodle Dog Bush. This plant likes to grow in recently disturbed ground, usually following a fire. Although our canyon route didn’t match that description, this plant is bad enough to encounter that we were suspicious of it. Apparently, touching a Poodle Dog Bush causes severe contact dermatitis. It’s reported to be worse than poison ivy or oak, and not soothed by the over the counter topical creams that usually respond to poison ivy.
We hadn’t heard of it this far south. But the resemblance was close enough to warrant some caution. We later learned that the plant we’d been avoiding wasn’t Poodle Dog Bush, but did look similar. Apparently PDB has a distinct skunk-like smell. Can’t wait for that magic.
The wind picked up overnight and from our camp above 8,000 feet; it made a mockery of our tent. Stakes were pulled out of the ground and the temperature dropped. In the morning, there was frost on our sleeping bags.
We slept in until 7:30 a.m. Richard has been fighting a virus for the last few days and his fever finally broke as the sun came up. We were packed up and ready to hit the trail by 8:30.
Richard as we head to lower elevations.
After a couple of miles, we spent the rest of the day headed downhill. We dropped almost 7,000 back down into the dry, hot desert. It was a long, increasingly heated descent.
We decided to push through to the only water source we hit during the day near mile 17. By the time we got there at 3:30 p.m., the tiny bit of shade was taken by other hikers. We refilled our water bladders, gave our feet a short breather and descended even further.
The elevation loss is done. Now comes the hot, sand walk. The last few miles before we got to the home of the ever-gracious trail angels, Ziggy and The Bear, were brutally hot. We walked across, along and among dry stream beds for about four miles.
With every step, my feet ached from the miles and the heat. I just kept thinking about taking my shoes off. Rubbing my feet at the end of the day has become a ritual I look forward to with enthusiasm. It seems that after a rub some life back into them, the pain drifts away. I think they just want a little extra attention and acknowledgment for all the work they’re putting in.
The last mile to Ziggy and The Bears was the longest mile of the day. After walking under Interstate 10 (the shade from the overpass was the only respite from the sun all day), we continued up a dry stream bed until we came upon a house with five Port-a-Potties out front. A specially-made side trail took us right into their backyard. We were offered Gaterade and ample shade right away. There were free showers, a sink to wash any clothes or pots, and the mail drop I had sent off before we started the trail.
Both Ziggy and The Bear, a lovely couple in their seventies, were friendly and charming.
We made ourselves at home, made dinner and visited with some of the forty-or-so other hikers sharing the backyard with us.
By 9 o’ clock, the lights were out and the hikers were quiet. Richard and I set our sleeping bags up at the back of the yard on carpeted, raised sleeping platforms. We watched the stars until we fell asleep.
Miles: PCT: 178 to 187.9; road walk and side trail to PCT: 6.4
Mileage: PCT: 9.9; off trail: 6.4
Day: 10
We left town after a leisurely morning around 11:15 a.m. The road walk out of town was steep but not heavily trafficked. We took the South Ridge Trail up to Mt. Tahquitz and then the saddle trail over to the PCT.
You had to hike with your ears open. When the winds blew, the ice chunks fell from the trees.
Above 8,000 feet, where we spent most of our day, there were pockets of snow. By midday, it was more like slush but still wet and cold. The air temperature was above freezing because the huge pines above us were dropping their snow loads all afternoon, sometimes onto our heads.
Because of the late start we made it to camp as the sun was setting. It was a beautiful walk through the woods as it changed from pink light to bright orange. The sky was stripes of blue, pink, orange and red. The mountain behind was lit with an orange glow. It was amazing.
But I was also very excited to slide into my sleeping bag as the temperatures dropped and the moon rose over us.
This is what the mountains look like that we hiked through in the rain and fog. Not too shabby.
Miles: PCT: 1.6; Cedar Springs Trail Junction plus road walk to Idyllwild: 19, minus a 2.5 mile hitch along highway 74.
Mileage: 18.1
Day: 9
When the light returned around 5:45, the rain and wind we still working full time and we were still in our sleeping bags dreading the moment when we stepped back out into it.
We packed up as best we could inside the tent, but the tent itself had to also be dealt with.
Richard carries the tent in his pack, and he lost most of the feeling on his hands that morning stuffing the cold, wet thing away.
As soon as we were suited and ready, I took off at a run down the trail. My only thought was to get off the ridge. I kept imagining the lovely world in the valley: sunny, warm, no wind to speak of.
After 1.6 miles on the PCT (it is closed from mile 162.6 to 178 from fire damage) we took the west spur of the Cedar Spring Trail down off the ridge. A mile and a half of switchbacks later, we below most of the fog and rain. But not yet clear of it.
Once we got to the trailhead, we started the road walk west to highway 74. We hoped to get a hitch and avoid as much of the road walk as possible. We saw no cars on Morris Ranch Road down to the highway.
At that point, the fog was above us and we could even see our shadows sometimes. WHAT?!
I stuck out my thumb and smiled wide for every car that passed while I could safely walk backwards.
We got one hitch 2.5 miles. A lovely man named Jose took us as far as the Lake Hemet Campground.
From there, it seemed, we were on our own. I think if the weather had been nicer, people might have been more helpful. I can understand not wanting to let smelly AND wet hikers into your car.
After many boring miles, we made to Idyllwild just as another deluge set in. We had a reservation at the Knotty Pine Cabins and I couldn’t wait for the chance to be dry!
I am so glad we had made a call ahead to the Knotty Pine because other than what was under a roof, no part of Idyllwild was dry that day. It rained for hours, the roads were rivers, and we had chores to do.
Once in our cabin, I set to work taking apart my gear to start the drying process. Every flat surface of the cabin was soon covered with moist to dripping gear.
Soon we couldn’t ignore our empty stomachs any longer. We doned our rain gear again and headed for the pizza place.
PIZZA!COOKIES!
5,000 calories (approximately) later, we were full and ready for errands. Richard got new gaiters at the gear store, and we tried to put together a couple of days worth of food at the market. Even though their selection was meager, we still managed to by too much food. That hiker stomach messes with your brain-to-eye connection.
The last chore of the day was washing: ourselves and our clothes.
I bathed first and gathered up our gross clothes for the laundromat, which was only a few minutes walk away. Any further and I could have been convinced to stay dirty.
Richard stayed at the cabin to cook dinner, start a fire in the wood stove and shower. Because we were washing everything, we only had enough layers not getting cleaned (aka rain gear) to cover one of us to society’s standard of decency (aka if we had both gone, I wouldn’t have been wearing pants).
At 5:30 a.m. I woke to hear rain pattering on the tent. I do not enjoy packing up in the rain, but I figured, it’s the desert! How long can this last?
And I was right. The pattering stopped in 15 or 20 minutes and we packed up as usual, just with a damp tent.
The day was cloudy as we started the 10-mile hike to highway 74. Our plan was to cross the highway and put in another 10 or so miles to get as close to mile 162 as we could. At that point, the trail is closed from fire damage that occurred in 2013. Hikers must take the Cedar Spring Trail west off the ridge and hike down to highway 74. From there you walk north to highway 243 and into the town of Idyllwild, a popular stop for PCT hikers.
Just a few miles into our day, we hit fog. Visibility on the PCT is often tens of miles. That day, it was around 50 feet. And cold. With the fog came intermittent waves of rain. Every exposed piece of skin was wet and red from the wind chill. I wore my rain poncho for the first time on the trail. It was really great at keeping my core and pack dry. But my forearms and hands did get cold at times and were wet all day.
I think we were hiking through huge sand dunes, but I’m really not sure. We only got glimpses of the landscape when the wind shifted just right. Plus, my hood kept sliding down over my eyes, so most of my day was spent staring at the ground. It looked sandy.
At the highway crossing we took a short Snickers bar break. The elevation was low enough there that we were just barely below the clouds and rain.
We soon climbed higher.
North of the highway the trail winded through huge boulder fields. If it had been sunny and warm, I would have been tempted to find some lines to climb on the rock.
By 3 p.m. We were high I the ridge and in the middle of a fight between the wind and earth. The gist I got was that the wind wanted the earth to move east and the earth was having none of it. We were constantly battered and blown around.
I gather from speaking with hikers this year that not many people opt to hike to the fire closure and then around to Idyllwild. Most hikers hitch from the highway crossing ten miles south of the closure straight into Idyllwild. Therefore, in the last two years since the closure, that section of trail has seen far fewer hikers than before. And it looks it. The bushes and shrubs — and we’re in the desert, so I’m talking thorny ones — have grown into the trail. You have to push through them and hope your rip-stop gear really is rip-stop. Plus, it was raining, so all those thorny bushes were wet, too. Not that we were dry before, but come on.
We found a tentsite partially protected by some very brave trees and set up our tent as quickly as we could. By 4:30 we were in our sleeping bags trying to warm up.
Richard, my freaking hero, went back out in the squall to make dinner. I joined him when it was done to eat, but he spent an extra 20 minutes out there and for that I will be enternally grateful.
We spent a loud, cold, wet night on the ridge just hoping this mess would eventually blow itself away.
It didn’t.
Here’s our tent the night before the rains. I didn’t take my phone out all day and the videos Richard took don’t seem to want to load. I’ll work on that later.
We camped in a rare forested area next to a flowing stream. Once we started hiking, that didn’t last long. The whole morning was a long, slow climb through boulder-pocked desert scrub.
The first few hours were cloudy and cold above tree line. Eventually the sun came out but, the wind kept most of the heat away. That was a nice quality while hiking, but made it necessary to layer up at breaks.
We stopped to get water from Trail Angel Mike near mile 127. But we hiked another four miles before we took a real break. By that time my feet were aching for me to get off them.
On the Appalachian Trail, my feet developed callouses at the base of my second toes which pressed on the nerves of said toes each time I stepped on them. It was excruciating at times. But, that didn’t happen until I was a few hundred miles in, in Virginia.
Well, those same callouses are happening again, and we’ve barely begun. At least the throbbing pain isn’t constant throughout the day. It’s impressive what 30 minutes off my feet and a rub down will do to alleviate pain.
The ridge across the valley topped with clouds.
As we hiked, we watched cells of thunderstorms pass over the valley below us and the ridge across the valley. It never came to us, but it merited discussions on how to treat lightning strike victims.
Our next water source was a couple of miles before our proposed sleeping spot. We made dinner there to avoid carrying the extra water needed for cooking.
The the last few miles were fairly straight forward, so when we got to mile 138.7, we decided to push on to the next camp spot at 140. But that was full when we got there. So, we pushed on again to the next open flat spot we could find.
We found a random flat patch downhill from the trail about 100 feet. And it was much flatter than sleeping on last night’s incline that sent me sliding to the foot of the tent while I slept.
Miles: 101.1 to 115 via resupply in Warner Springs
Mileage: 13.9
Day: 6
The walk into Warner Springs was chilly and windy. The sky was fully overcast and even the ants were slowed by the drop in temperature. Rather than moving quickly in neat lines to and from their mounds, they lay nearly still, no work being done.
At Eagle Rock on the way into Warner Springs.
Motivated by the prospect of showers and hot food, we stepped lightly over the ants and made it to town — our first trail town! — by 10 a.m.
By that time, the sun was burning through the cloud layer and we were excited to get our mail drop.
I heard someone say they were headed to the post office, so I asked to join their trip. It was only 1.2 miles away, but I was happy to avoid any unnecessary walking. Forward progress only.
Our box was found and once back at the Community Resource Center, we divvied up the calories. I took the Oreos. Richard took the Power Bars.
Inside, we bought two showers, two veggie burger lunches, a small bottle of olive oil and two bags of potato chips. We were too late in the day to get our laundry done … at 10:30. It’s a service in much demand.
The showers were on the chilly side, but the end result was satisfying. Plus, we took some of our clothes in with us, so at least most of the salt was rinsed away.
We hung our clothes to dry on the nearest peach tree and went inside for lunch. The veggie burgers were homemade and delicious!
We charged our phones and looked at the news online.
Thanks to everyone who has been reading along as we hike. Your comments are great and much appreciated. I will try to respond as best I can!
By midday our clothes were dry, our pot washed and our bodies clean. The dirt cache under my fingernails had washed away, as had the “tan” I thought I’d achieved on my hands and legs.
Just as we were putting on our shoes to leave, a bird pooped on Richard’s formerly clean pant leg. And, although I didn’t discover it until later, one had also left droppings on my pack. I guess that’s what we get for parking our stuff under a tree.
We left after 3 p.m. and hiked another 5.5 miles to camp by a flowing creek; quite the rarity in Southern California.
The sign says “northbound: congrats! first 100 miles. 26 more times. “
Miles: 82 to 101.1
Mileage: 19.1
Day: 5
Today was a different day on trail. It was cloudy and very windy. Temperatures never made it over 70. Sometimes we were walking in a fog, and with it, the humidity it brings.
And we had hiked to our goal for the day by 1:30 p.m.
We got on the trail at a reasonable time, just before 7 a.m. The terrain was gentle, although the wind was fierce at times. I hiked most of the day in gloves and an ear cover. It was always too windy for my sunbrella or even my sun hat.
By the time we got over mile 100 my feet were aching for a break and rub down. But it was fun to hike fast with my pack low on food and water, I barely felt it.
Tomorrow will be another story: Our first resupply, shower and laundry of the trail.
That will mean skin devoid of the sunscreen/dirt layer we’ve collected, clothes that don’t smell of sweat and heavy packs again.
It has been fun meeting the hikers of PCT Class of 2015. Overall, it seems like a fun group of varied backgrounds and ages. Watering holes are the spots we tend to congregate. That’s partly from the necessity of water and partly because shade exists little elsewhere.
Tonight next to the spring, Richard and I will fall asleep to the sound of peeper frogs croaking. I imagine they’re the only ones for miles given the lack of standing water nearby.
Body status update: Day one felt great. We made good time and nothing seemed to slow us down; not heat, not liters and liters of water, not five days of food. Day two was painful. Sore feet, hips, shoulders, the beginnings of blisters, etc. My energy was down and the heat was still an adjustment. Day three was blisters. Day four was better, overall. I think my body is coming to terms with what is being asked of it. My blisters are recovering well and Richard’s seem to be improving. All in all, I think this might work.
After a blustery night, we woke to clear, calm skies. The sun was lightening the sky before 6 a.m. and we were on the trail before 7.
We knew we would be dropping elevation, so we wanted to get a good start before the heat set in.
We reached the first water source around 9:30 and filled up with 10 liters between the two of us to get us 23 miles.
As it turns out, some lovely trail angels in the Julian, California-area cached water in different spots near mile 77, but we didn’t know about that beforehand.
So, we set out on a long, hot, slow descent with about ten extra pounds of water, each. We stopped for a break about 1 p.m. in a small alcove made by two large boulders that settled into each other just above the trail. It served as a lovely wind break and was abundant in shade. We ate lunch and looked across the valley to the formidable climb that was five miles ahead of us.
A look across the valley at our evening climb.
After lunch, it was another hot couple of hours crossing the flat, open and very windy valley. The heat was unbearable, which objectively meant it was pretty hot. But because I have no tolerance for heat, it was utterly the worst, I’m telling you.
Right before the climb, we found some locust trees to hide under while we made dinner at 3:30 p.m. Such is the hiker way. Plus, it meant we wouldn’t have to carry the water for cooking up the climb. The locust trees threatened to spear us with their thorns while we ate.
At 5:30, the climb was downright pleasant. The wind was strong and cool, the grade was classically PCT mild. The views were beautiful in the soft light of the evening.
We found our campsite and promptly set up our tent and jumped into our sleeping bags as the desert chill moved across the canyon.
