On the AT, I was determined to be a purist. On the PCT I was determined not to be. After 2000 miles of meticulously covering every inch of the trail, I was tired of it. Of course I wasn't about to start yellow blazing or taking the easy path, but gone were the days of running circles around trees to make sure I covered the correct path or backtracking out of shelters to pass every blaze. So when the opportunity arose to take a side trail up Mount San Jacinto and skip part of the PCT, I took it.
It was a good choice. The scenery was absolutely amazing. Over 10,000 feet; I had never hiked that high. The views were breathtaking. To the west, a sea of clouds covered all that lay below. They crashed into the mountainside, creating a spray of mist. Islands floated in the distance. To the east, lay the valley floor and mountains beyond; small communities of buildings clustered together in civilization. I ate lunch, took a nap, and then slowly sauntered down the trail. I stopped often, spending a long while just gazing at the ocean of clouds. Further down the trail, the wind hit, threatening to take off my hat and knock me over. I stumbled around, trying to right myself with each gust. Finally I made it to the campsite where there was little refuge from the wind. Cold and tired, I set up my tent, ate a quick dinner with the others, and went to bed. It had been a beautiful but long day.
I didn't know when I woke up that I'd be pushing a 28+ mile day. Around mid-morning I neared the angry hive of bees. I had heard about this swarm since before the PCT, so I expected it was bad. Many hikers had already gotten stung, sometimes multiple times. Apparently they were in constant state of agitation because so many people passed by. The male bees would buzz around you to scope you out, and if you go to fast or too slow, you are a threat, so they call the female to sting you. I braced myself for attack as I passed the message written in rocks. I heard a buzzing to my left and picked up my pace. T.C. yelped behind me as I rounded a corner. Then, it was all over. No angry swarm of bees chasing after me, no stings, no allergic reactions. Only a few bees floating by in the air. Pretty anti-climactic.
I made it to the water source and tried to figure out how much further to go. I felt really good and there was a awesome place 13 miles away. Why not? I had already come 15. I decided I would start walking and then see how I felt. I made my way across the flat basin, 25+ mph wind pushing me back and making me work twice as hard. The sand gave way with each step, slowing progress. I split the miles up into chunks, taking a break every four or five miles. An underpass, a pavillion-- both gave me welcomed relief from the relentless wind. I pondered stopping early, but then decided to just crush the rest of the miles to the reserve. Pools of cool water, fields of green grass and trees, bathrooms, and water spigots beckoned me on.
It was beautiful and painful. Huge ups and downs. I ran down the downhills and huffed up the uphills. The wind was so strong I could almost fully lean into it and be held up. The trail skirted the side of the mountain, producing a terrifyingly steep drop-off. If the wind knocked me over, I would be rolling for a while. I hugged the mountain as much as I could and stepped carefully.
Finally, there it was. Tall palm trees welcomed me and frogs sang to me as I hobbled into the White River Reserve. With my remaining energy I set up camp, soaked my feet in the pond, and made dinner my sleeping bag. Every movement hurt. I was never more grateful for a seat.
I slept in, but I was still really tired. And I was still in pain. My left achilles felt super stiff, every step hurt, and I was quite sore. I ate first breakfast and then second breakfast, and then to distract me from hunger I went to a butterfly talk. Then came lunch. Hiker hunger seemed to be hitting, and I forlornly looked through my food bag, noticing my diminishing supplies. More hikers had joined me, and most of the Rattlesnacks finally made it to the reserve. As we were eating, a California blonde walked up, homegirl in tow. "Excuse me, we are wondering... no one dresses like that... what are you all doing?" I laughed, then answered, "Through hiking-- walking from Mexico to Canada on the PCT." Typical questions followed; When did you start, How long does it take, How many miles, et cetera. Curiosity satisfied, she joined her possies at the picnic table, no doubt talking about us. As they were headed out, she came over to us again. "One more question... so how do you shower?" Stretch answer that one, "We can wipe ourselves down and use bathrooms to clean up." "And we go to town every week or so," I added. Her friend stood by quietly, eyes wide, trying to comprehend what it would be like to not shower everyday.
I finally broke free from the little paradise and continued back to the trail. There were lots of tourists. One woman stopped me. "Oh! Are you an over-nighter too?" she asked. "Y-yes?" I replied. I never heard that term before but assumed she meant thru-hiker. Typical questions followed and the conversation ended with the usual "good luck and be safe." I took some time at the White River and then moved on. The trail followed a stream, which meant only carrying 1 Liter of water. My pack was light and I was in high spirits when I made it to camp. Only a few from my group were there, as the others were ahead or behind. It was neat to meet new hikers, as we are catching up to people who started before us or being passed by faster hikers.
The morning was a complete drag. It was uphill, the scenery was dull, my left achilles was still stiff, and I was lazy from the low mileage yesterday. I stopped ton, until I gave myself a pep talk to pull myself out of the slump and pick up the pace. I finally hit my stride and got into the zone. The trail gave way to pine forests and more views as it climbed ever upward. Despite my slow morning and afternoon nap, I made it to the campsite early. Part of me wanted to push further to shorten the hike to town the following morning, but I decided to call it a day. Guru (a new guy hiking with us for a while) and Spygot (formerly known as Jazmine) joined me later. We clustered our tents in the small space and went to bed before the sun.
I did not sleep well, so I woke up early and busted out 18 miles. Along the way, I passed some sweet Trail Magic and saw some grizzly bears (they were in a private zoo). When I made it to the road I hitched a ride with another thru-hiker. We got picked up by a friendly guy who drove us to Big Bear. I was especially excited for this town, as I had spent some time there when I worked in California, and was eager to be back in the area. I checked out a hostel and the rest of the gang joined me over the next few hours. I set to work, determined to get all my chores done early so I could relax later. We enjoyed a Mexican dinner, and remembering my mistake from overeating last time, I decided to skip the ice cream.
It turned out to be a really terrible zero. A dog woke me up, viciously barking outside my tent. My blog post got deleted (causing me to have to write it all again). I went to catch my bus to the store but realized my phone charger was missing, so had to run back into the library to look, thus I missed the bus. Finally I found the charger and went back to the bus stop. Twenty minutes later the bus zoomed past. I was at the wrong stop. So I decided to walk a half mile to the store. I quickly got my groceries and ate my ice cream outside as I waited for the bus again. I didn't have a spoon so I got ice cream all over my face. I stepped in some gum. I somehow missed the bus again, forcing me to wait another full hour. Finally the bus came, but didn't stop. So I had to safely run across four lanes of traffic to the other stop where I managed to get on. I didn't get back to the hostel until hiker midnight which meant a late dinner and late bedtime. I was exhausted.
Needless to say, I was happy to get back to the trail.
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