Campo, California, United States
If I said it wasn't a little daunting, I would be lying. On an early morning in June, Roxanne dropped me off at the Southern Terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail. I've heard about "the wall" that separates the US from Mexico, but I've never been with my back up against it. Plain white Border Patrol trucks slowly cruise the dirt road on the US side of the rusty corrugated tin wall. So this is it... this is what I've read about in so many books. It seems like it would be a much bigger fanfare for the famous PCT... but it's not. Just dirt, rocks and cactus, like so much of the Mojave Desert. And so I start, the first of hopefully many section hikes to try and complete the 2,659 mile trail that cuts through the west coast, from the Mexican border to the Canadian one. My plan is to hike for about five days and cover section A, which is about 130 miles. There is supposed to be a record heat wave coming so I am flexible, depending on the conditions. As I see Roxanne's taillights fade away, I realize once again that I am alone. Just me and the desert.
My first day's goal will be to make it to Lake Morena, which is 20 miles away, and I know for sure there will be no water along the way (who knew, a desert with no water?) This means it must be carried, along with my food for five days, which equates to about a 35 pound backpack when added to my few belongings. I feel this is heavy enough, but then I come up on JJ and his German Shepard. "Wow, how much are you carrying there?", I ask.
"Including my dog's food and water? About 75 pounds", he says, in between breaths. JJ is planning on thru hiking (doing the PCT continuously), something he has wanted to do for years. Unfortunately time is not on his side. He is starting way too late, and is carrying way too much. IMO, his chances are slim that he will reach his goal. I say goodbye and wish him well.
I arrive at the lake around 3 o'clock but it's way too early to stop, so I fill up with water and continue on for another 6 miles to Boulder Oaks Campground. Of course it's empty - all of the hikers that are thru hiking left months ago to avoid the desert heat. After a cold dinner of rice and beans (I purposely left my stove and fuel at home), I pitch my tent and retire for the night. Of course, being normal, I sometimes ask myself why I'm doing this. One of the reasons why is that there's nothing quite like sleeping under the stars with just the coyotes howling and the crickets chirping... and no one in sight.
Morning comes quickly, and it is already hot as the sun peeps over the horizon. You never need an alarm clock to wake up because the morning chorus of birds is so loud, it would be almost impossible to sleep through.
Day 2 will be hiking approximately 22 miles to Mount Laguna, which is about 6,000 feet above sea level. That's good news and bad news. The good news is it will be much cooler at that altitude, but the bad news is you have to hike uphill all day to get there. What a difference a day makes; the topography changes from dirt and cactus to beautiful pines and running streams. I arrive hot and tired at the Burnt Rancheria campground, just to find out that they take cash only, which I did not bring much of. No problem... with my condo on my back, I can sleep anywhere! So I truck across the street and set up my tent behind the post office. After dinner, I watch a movie that I downloaded from Netflix onto my iTouch, which I'm able to fully charge each day with my solar panels attached to the back of my pack. I almost feel like I'm cheating with modern technology, but I'll get over it.
Day 3 consists of a 22 mile hike to Chariot Canyon. I actually ran into a couple of people doing day hikes, which is surprising as I didn't expect to see anyone on this stretch. I started at 5:30 this morning to beat the heat, and by 9 it is already 90°. The trail is narrow and steep in this section. One misstep and it would be about 1,000 foot fall, so one must be careful. With this danger, however, comes a spectacular view of the Mojave desert floor. It's pretty overwhelming as it stretches in what seems like forever. Water is scarce in this area, so I have to go a couple miles off of the trail to find a natural spring that was posted on my water report. Calling it a spring is a stretch; it's actually a couple of bubbles coming out of the ground that smell like sulfur, with a thin cover of orange algae over the top! Thank goodness for my filtering system, because it's the only water around for miles and miles. I added some flavoring to the water because, even after filtering, it tastes like drinking rotten eggs through a straw. But even though it tastes awful, it beats the alternative... dehydration. I can't help but think of JJ and his German Shepherd, and hope they're doing OK.
Night is settling in and I have pitched my tent by a dry riverbed. I didn't realize until afterwards that I have company... a huge red ant hill! Even after crawling into my tent as quickly as possible, some of the little buggers still got in. I feel like I'm playing one of those carnival games, whack-a-mole, as I use my shoe to smack each ant as they appear. This seems to go on forever. Oh, what fun!
Day 4 takes me back down to the desert floor, which means heat. It's hot, but I tell myself to imagine I'm walking on a glacier with snow and ice everywhere. Just as I imagined my toes getting frostbite, something jumped out of the grass and bit my walking pole. I instinctively flew backwards, falling on my backpack and staring at the sky like a turtle turned upside down in its shell. As I looked up, reality came flooding back as I saw a huge rattlesnake slithering across the trail and into the bushes. It's time to forget about glaciers and focus... that was too close of a call. I picked myself up, made sure I hadn't soiled my pants, and onward I went.
By noon I had reached the 80 mile mark (Scissors Crossing), and it was close to 100° in the shade under a bridge. There is a cache of water left under the bridge by trail angels, people that do nice things for backpackers out of the kindness of their heart. Without this gesture, backpackers would have to go miles off the trail to find water. I take off my backpack and shoes and am almost afraid to look at the bottom of my foot. I have failed to mention that I picked up a souvenir in the early stages of my hike. The desert doesn't give much, but it was nice enough to give me a blister the size of a silver-dollar on the ball of my foot. Every step has been uncomfortable and between this and the record breaking heat wave that was coming, I decided 80 miles was enough for this time. The trail will still be there in a couple months, and I will continue hiking the PCT from this point to reach my goal of completing it before my 70th birthday (hopefully without one of those walkers with the tennis balls on the legs). Stay tuned.
I arrive at the lake around 3 o'clock but it's way too early to stop, so I fill up with water and continue on for another 6 miles to Boulder Oaks Campground. Of course it's empty - all of the hikers that are thru hiking left months ago to avoid the desert heat. After a cold dinner of rice and beans (I purposely left my stove and fuel at home), I pitch my tent and retire for the night. Of course, being normal, I sometimes ask myself why I'm doing this. One of the reasons why is that there's nothing quite like sleeping under the stars with just the coyotes howling and the crickets chirping... and no one in sight.
Morning comes quickly, and it is already hot as the sun peeps over the horizon. You never need an alarm clock to wake up because the morning chorus of birds is so loud, it would be almost impossible to sleep through.
Day 2 will be hiking approximately 22 miles to Mount Laguna, which is about 6,000 feet above sea level. That's good news and bad news. The good news is it will be much cooler at that altitude, but the bad news is you have to hike uphill all day to get there. What a difference a day makes; the topography changes from dirt and cactus to beautiful pines and running streams. I arrive hot and tired at the Burnt Rancheria campground, just to find out that they take cash only, which I did not bring much of. No problem... with my condo on my back, I can sleep anywhere! So I truck across the street and set up my tent behind the post office. After dinner, I watch a movie that I downloaded from Netflix onto my iTouch, which I'm able to fully charge each day with my solar panels attached to the back of my pack. I almost feel like I'm cheating with modern technology, but I'll get over it.
Day 3 consists of a 22 mile hike to Chariot Canyon. I actually ran into a couple of people doing day hikes, which is surprising as I didn't expect to see anyone on this stretch. I started at 5:30 this morning to beat the heat, and by 9 it is already 90°. The trail is narrow and steep in this section. One misstep and it would be about 1,000 foot fall, so one must be careful. With this danger, however, comes a spectacular view of the Mojave desert floor. It's pretty overwhelming as it stretches in what seems like forever. Water is scarce in this area, so I have to go a couple miles off of the trail to find a natural spring that was posted on my water report. Calling it a spring is a stretch; it's actually a couple of bubbles coming out of the ground that smell like sulfur, with a thin cover of orange algae over the top! Thank goodness for my filtering system, because it's the only water around for miles and miles. I added some flavoring to the water because, even after filtering, it tastes like drinking rotten eggs through a straw. But even though it tastes awful, it beats the alternative... dehydration. I can't help but think of JJ and his German Shepherd, and hope they're doing OK.
Night is settling in and I have pitched my tent by a dry riverbed. I didn't realize until afterwards that I have company... a huge red ant hill! Even after crawling into my tent as quickly as possible, some of the little buggers still got in. I feel like I'm playing one of those carnival games, whack-a-mole, as I use my shoe to smack each ant as they appear. This seems to go on forever. Oh, what fun!
Day 4 takes me back down to the desert floor, which means heat. It's hot, but I tell myself to imagine I'm walking on a glacier with snow and ice everywhere. Just as I imagined my toes getting frostbite, something jumped out of the grass and bit my walking pole. I instinctively flew backwards, falling on my backpack and staring at the sky like a turtle turned upside down in its shell. As I looked up, reality came flooding back as I saw a huge rattlesnake slithering across the trail and into the bushes. It's time to forget about glaciers and focus... that was too close of a call. I picked myself up, made sure I hadn't soiled my pants, and onward I went.
By noon I had reached the 80 mile mark (Scissors Crossing), and it was close to 100° in the shade under a bridge. There is a cache of water left under the bridge by trail angels, people that do nice things for backpackers out of the kindness of their heart. Without this gesture, backpackers would have to go miles off the trail to find water. I take off my backpack and shoes and am almost afraid to look at the bottom of my foot. I have failed to mention that I picked up a souvenir in the early stages of my hike. The desert doesn't give much, but it was nice enough to give me a blister the size of a silver-dollar on the ball of my foot. Every step has been uncomfortable and between this and the record breaking heat wave that was coming, I decided 80 miles was enough for this time. The trail will still be there in a couple months, and I will continue hiking the PCT from this point to reach my goal of completing it before my 70th birthday (hopefully without one of those walkers with the tennis balls on the legs). Stay tuned.
Marian
2017-07-25
Oh wow Mark! I was with you all the way during those 4 days! Rattle snakes and huge blisters are not my idea of fun though.