Giving a Little Something Back

I've agreed to work on the trail crew doing work a little north of Tehachapi over the weekend, so it looks like I'll be staying put for awhile. As long as they keep me busy I shouldn't get too ancy, but it does mean the pack behind will have more time to catch up (a bad thing in my opinion, though I might get to see some hikers I left behind). The people I've been playing leapfrog with lately will probably get ahead as well, so I'll have too book it to catch up with them. There is always a trade off somewhere, and its hard to stay in touch with people when everyone is constantly on the move. In the meantime I'll just hang around and be lazy until its time to head out, but my legs are twitching as I write. All of southern California just feels like a warm up for what is to come, and I can't wait to get some real hiking started.

Last Stop

Hi everyone, I'm writing to you from Tehachapi, CA, in the K-Mart of all places. This is the last big stop before hitting Kennedy Meadows and the start of the Sierras, so there is a bit of a bottleneck of hikers; nobody wants to head up into the snow too soon or alone, so everyone has slowed down and seems to be taking stock of things here. The general concensus is that the situation isn't going to be getting better any time soon, so, we hikers being an impatient lot, most of us are just going to charge into the mountains. After loading up on burgers and shakes here in town that is. In reality, that hurdle is more than a week away, but all eyes and thoughts are on the Sierras for now.

Ironically, I just finished reading "The Places in Between" by a former Scottish diplomat named Rory Stewart, an account of the author's trek, on foot, across Afghanistan. This was apparently the last leg of a trans-Asia hike he began in 2000 that took 19 months to complete. His tales of breaking trail in 14,000 foot, snow covered mountains where the temperatures reach -40 degrees, make any obstacle in California seem like childs play by comparison. And we don't have to worry about former Taliban warlords interrogating us or village children calling half feral dogs on us. Suddenly everything seems easier after that.

On that note, the walk from Hikertown to here was supposed to be a grueling march across a spur of the Mojave Desert, complete with sparse water and baking temperatures. Instead, it was a relatively easy, if boring, jaunt across the sands due to a lucky break in the weather. It was overcast, cool and moist during our crossing, so the 6 of us who left from Hikertown (Handyman, Andrew, Half-brew, Rosie, Bruce and I) were able to make good time and save ourselves some anguish. We even recieved a light shower in the Tehachapi Mountains last night and were rewarded with a perfect rainbow over the desert with the sunrise this morning. The rest of the hike was fairly pleasant with some shade, a smattering of Joshua trees (some of the last we'll be seeing, I'm told), and a descent into a windmill filled valley. I plan on staying here for a day at least in order to meet up with some trail workers outside of town and hopefully kill some time cleaning up the path. After that, its into the mountains again, and unfortunately out of regular contact; I think the time of updating the blog every other day is about to pass. Until then, I'll try to keep posting. Talk to you later.

Another Day, Another Hostel

Hello again, writing to you from the start of the Mojave desert section at Hikertown, yet another trail angel/ hostel that, in traditional Southern California fashion, is totally quirky. The establishment is owned and operated by a man who, like many people in the are, works in the television industry. As such, it looks something like a movie set, with a large courtyard area surrounded by small theme-ish buildings. Everything is kind of half built and haphazard, like it was thrown up with little plan or order to it, and tools are randomly strewn throughout the place. A little wierd, but hey, it gets the job done. Oh, and there are baby kittens, which obviously makes this a must-stop place for the night.

Its sort of like an oasis for hikers in the middle of the desert, given that there has been very little water for the last few days. After leaving Casa de Luna, the trail climbs into some low hills overlooking the desert, but is surprisingly well shaded with trees and long grass. Several of the water resupply tanks placed along the trail were dry and I, along with the other hikers I've been travelling with, were almost caught unaware. Only a little used tank had enough water to draw from which thankfully saved me from having to hike into the night to refill.

Unfortunately the trail leading down to the desert is one of the most oft maligned on the trail; it is forcedfto take a hugh turn around a ranch, resulting in many additional miles through poorly marked scrub up and down hot, shadeless hills. All with the ultimate goal seemlingly so close it is ridiculous. Sigh. For now everyone seems to be content resting for the remainder of the day before setting off to cross the desert tomorrow. I have been trying to arrange some trail maintinence work that would eat up a few days, and 2 of the older hikers here now, Handyman and Bruce, both live in the area and have offered to take us off trail for awhile in order to buy us time before the Sierras. All the reports we've been getting say the snow is just as bad as ever and a June 12th start date is the earliest people should be attempting the climb, but seeing as I could concievably be there in about 10 days, I might just try and force my way through earlier. Seeing as Bruce owns a boat in Santa Barbara, however, taking a trip to the coast doesn't seem like a bad idea. Only time will tell I suppose. Talk to you later, as always.

Casa de Luna

Hi everyone, yet another post from yet another town / trail angel stop, this time at the eccentric hippie home of Teri and Joe Anderson called Casa de Luna. They are both great people with big hearts, interesting stories to tell... and a very weird sense of humor. I was able to book it here from Agua Dulce in only 8 hours, covering the 24 miles between towns before 2:30 and the afternoon heat set in. The trail was through some fairly featureless hills marked by ruler-straight lines as the path made a slow, relentless climb up and over before descending to town. I hurried mainly in order to get here before dinner was served; they make taco salad every night and pancakes every morning, as well as offering rides to the trail any time, day or night.

While the Saufleys are very efficient and clean, they have a 2 night maximum. The Andersons are more of a jumbled hot mess, and they virtually require people to stay several days. So, despite my race over here, I have holed up at Casa de Luna for yet another zero day, bringing my average mileage down even more. I'll call it a wash given that I played 2 strenuous, action packed games of frisbee golf on the neighborhood course, a sport which surely must burn as many calories as hiking 25 miles a day in snow covered mountains. As a bonus I did get to explore their community, called Green Valley, which, despite being part of Los Angeles County, is very remote and packed with characters. The resident loafer, named Doug, gave me a tour of a local artists crazy sweet welding studio, of which I am very jealous, and gave us the lowdown on some of the more colorful people in the 1,200 resident town.

Teri and Joe are by far the, um, most vibrant shall we say. They like to mess with the hikers when they first arrive, giving them false directions and feigning ignorance about the "local trail angels" while staring them right in the face. They also enjoying telling the story of how they got in the buisness, a long, detailed and oft rehearsed affair that apparently requires a bit of improve on their part. The requisite hiker photo inevitably requires getting mooned by Teri (hence Casa de Luna), and Memorial Day Weekend is host to the hiker oil wrestling competition, an event which is sure to be their legacy. Sadly, I will not be here for that, though we did get to see the video.

Once again I hope to be heading out tomorrow. The same crew has been travelling together on and off for a bit, so hopefully we'll all be going at about the same pace until we hit Tehachapi in another 80 or so miles of desert walking. After that it on to Kennedy Meadows and the start of the snowy Sierra... or not. I haven't decided what the course will be yet, though I'm sure it will fall into place shortly. As always, I will try to keep you posted, talk to you later all.

Hiker Heaven

Hi everyone, I'm writing to you today from outside Agua Dulce, CA, at a place called, appropriately enough, Hiker Heaven. This is a legendary rest spot at the home of two trail angels named the Saufleys, and it certainly lives up to its title. They have a guest house set up behind their home in a double-wide trailer, bins and bins of clean, town-worthy clothes, hiker boxes full of gear left by previous guests to rifle through, t.v., internet, movies, rides to town... and Donna even does the laundry FOR YOU!! Holy crap. Hiker Heaven indeed.

This awsome trail magic couldn't have come at a better time either. While the trip from Wrightwood to here was a relatively short couple of days, it has felt like much longer. After getting a ride back to the trail with Ray, the PCT climbs up the north face of Mount Baden Powell, a 4 mile, 3000 foot climb on a good day. Due to the late snows and the direction of the slope, the trail quickly becomes lost and one has to hoof it straight up the mountain, no switchbacks, kicking steps into the snow every foot of the way. The effort is woth it however, affording 360 degree views down to the Mojave on one side, and off through more snowy canyons on the other. With jellied legs, one has to follow the trail as it steeply ascends and descends along a knife-edged ridge ultimately leading down to Islip Saddle, where another wildfire last year damaged the trail and forced a reroute around 50 miles of trail or so. Ouch.

The detour starts innocently enough, winding down South Fork Canyon, a gorge where the trail tread does its best to narrowly cling to the crumbling walls. Not the type of place to be is an earthquake, though it would make a good movie location for a western. At the bottom is a car-accessible campground, which to a thru-hiker necessarily needs to be approached with dread and caution, along with a sprinkling of hope. We're like bears; car campgrounds are disgusting, noisy ugly, littered places, often full of the dregs of humanity out for a drunken weekend (god knows this one was), but it also affords the opportunity to yogi some free food/ beer from the locals. Unfortunately this campground had all of the former, none of the latter. Groups of bongo playing hippies poorly playing Sublime covers. Parents doing donuts in the dusty parking lot with their children hanging on to the roof of their pickups, honking all the while. Underaged girls drinking till 4 a.m., shouting cheerleading chants while being implored by men twice their age to "show 'em their tits". Yeah. It was that bad. It makes you wonder at what stage of psychological development these people must be stuck, that they can not imagine a world of 'others' outside their tiny group of friends. Really? Screaming (seriously screaming) at 4 a.m.? Please.
To look around at the beautiful setting, at the bottoms of a gorge carved out of the solid rock by millenia of rushing water, and realize that it meant nothing to these people was truly frightening. I like to think that the average city dweller or suburbanite tries to get out into the woods in order to enjoy the quiet and solitude, to marvel at the things it has to offer that the world built by human hands cannot. And yet these people (I shudder to put myself in the same species as they, but thats taxonomy for you), were doing exactly the opposite; the only reason they were there was to escape the mores and laws of society that would have had them imprisoned or shunned for that kind of behavior. Scary.

But anyway. Leaving behind that nightmarish place, the trail went to Devil's Punchbowl, a geological formation of carved sandstone rocks and creeks. Unfortunately, things go down from here. 30-40 miles of blister inducing, foot pounding, mind numbing road walking through desert, surrounded by Joshua trees and scrub bushes, was only bearable thanks to a book (Charles Kuralt's On the Road, very worthywhile considering the circumstances). Walking while reading, with traffic whizzing by at 70 mph, is not the best way to spend a few days, trust me. Getting back on the trail was the best feeling I've had in awhile, particularly for my feet. Luckily the trail is pretty amazing coming into Agua Dulce where it passes Vasquez Rocks, another sandstone outcropping, along with a number of ranches and horse farms. The towns along the trail really do have the old west feel about them, including places to park your horse at the grocery store. Crazy.

That being said, it is nice to finally be back on the real trail again, with hopefully no more detours to tangle with between here and Canada. I'm planning on staying here for 2 nights, then possibly looking for some trail maintinence crews to work with for awhile later on to kill some time (don't hold me to my word though). Crossing the Mojave Desert is next, then on to the high mountains after! 450 miles down, many more to go.

From Wrightwood With Love

I just arrived here in the tiny ski resort town of Wrightwood, CA after being picked up by a trail angel named Ray. Not only did he drive out to the trail from town (postponing his son Logan's nap, no less), but he and his girlfriend routinely put hikers up in their apartment, let them use their showers and laundry, and sleep on their couch. I mean seriously. How nice can people be out here? For every pick-up truck that screams by while trying to hitchhike, there are people like these that validate the whole of human existence. Good job guys :)

The last few days have been the picture of contrast, which by now seems to be the norm in Southern California. From high on the ridges, one can often see snow capped peaks on one side and the Mojave desert on the other. One day consisted of a string of dams made to service L.A. that, while walking below them, faced more scrub and chaparall. Upon coming over the top however, the massive Silverwood Lake comes into view. Later a ridgewalk gave views of the San Andreas fault (with a few unlucky homes built on top) which led down to a Cajon pass, where I-15 comes barreling through on its way north, accompanied by a railway carting 100 car long freight trains. In the midst of all this stands the Mormon Rocks, a huge sandstone escarpment which stands perilously close to the rails. And above it all, the specter of L.A. looms in the form of smog. The San Bernardino Mountains would easily offer views down towards the city were it not for the blanket of yellow-grey pall that covers the area. From up high, one can see the blue sky above, but below is an impenatrable shield blocking views to the south.

The last few days, and indeed much of the next section, are dominated by the detours we are forced to take. Yesterday was one long reroute from near I-15 around an area burn by the "Sheep Fire" a few years ago, and required a tedious, hot, shadeless road walk for some 15 miles. Coming up is yet another fire burned area with a somewhat indeterminate route around it. I hope to be able to resupply and get things straightened out while here in town, and once through this area we should be done with the detour buisness...barring any future fires or catasrophes that is. Be seeing everyone some other time.

Its been a very solitary hike thus far, few people to see on the trail, but tons of stunning views and the occasional run in with familiar faces along the way. There have been hot springs, cool creeks, wide open lakes, blooming mountain flowers and fragrant desert sage, and of course the occasional snow patch...all since big bear city a few days ago. The fabled Cajon Pass Mcdonalds awaits tomorrow, then its in to Wrightwood to assess the situation that is Mount Baden Powell; to attempt the climb or not? I'm always up for a challenge, and this one should be a doozy, with a 3,000 foot climb mostly in snow. Catch you on the other side.

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