Journal Entries

In n Out! Mark and Colleen.

Catty and Hobo in the mist.

May 9th- Day 18- 20.3 miles from Black Mountain Road at mile 190.5 to dirt road past Highway 10 at mile 210.8

I wake up to people camping around me. I keep my eyes shut for a while longer, then sit up and get up to pee. I was freezing last night, and holding my pee all night probably did not help the situation. It was tent city last night, but most of the people have either left or are packing up. I talk with Cate, her husband who I don't remember the name of (Mike?), Shipwreck, Iguana, and Rawhide and Colleen. Nirvana and Karma kept on going last night, and they're trying to hitch from Big Bear to LA to hang out with a friend (Nirvana) and to go to a friend's wedding in Washington state (Karma).

It's 15 miles of all downhill today. My knees feel wobbly and loose at first until they warm up. I can see Cabazon and Highway 10 far below, and the casino and a big quarry, as I leapfrog with Mousetrap. It's a delicious brown down below, and however much I like the mountains, I want to be back there.

I pass Iguana and Shipwreck as they're sitting to enjoy the view. "That's super ugly, you should turn around and look there instead," I say.

Iguana gets the joke and makes a funny face as she looks over her shoulder at the intersection of two dirt roads. Shipwreck doesn't. "Really?" he says, confused.

"I was joking," I say.

Iguana grins.

"I think it's a little bit too early in the morning, Shipwreck," I say, grinning too, and walk on, enjoying the view.

I stop to get water at Snow Creek. Scissors is there, and also A-GAME and Gusher, who I've heard about from Colleen's blog. Gusher got her name because she has several nosebleeds a day; A-GAME because her name starts with an A and she hiked the AT from Georgia to Maine. They're both from Maine and are hiking together.

I head off again, and when I turn a corner, the view of Highway 10 and the valley below is gone, replaced by a sea of white clouds. It's beautiful. I take a few pictures of the mountains being engulfed by white before switchbacking down into the fog.

It's not too eery; somehow knowing it's daytime makes everything better. I decide to try and listen to music since the grey misty world doesn't seem like it's going to end very soon. I pop my earphones in and listen to 12 Songs, my Neil Diamond album. I hear someone sneeze several times somewhere below me and I say a bless you back.

I catch up to two women as I'm rounding a switchback, and when I talk to them it turns out they're Hobo and Catty, who I've heard about along the grapevine. They've named 8 people so far, including Shipwreck. They try to give me the trail name of Bo Peep because of my hat, but I just laugh and say no way. Afterwards I realize she may have been teasing because I told her repeatedly that she looked like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle with her bright green rain jacket, green buff pulled over her face, red puffy vest, and green ULA pack. I talk with Catty for a while and then she waits to see where Hobo's gone to.

I descend below the fog after an hour or two, a mile or so before mile 200, to the mountains opening up in a V and cradling a view of golden valley floor filled with little white windmills. I take a picture of the 200 someone has written in rocks in the middle of the trail, but of course there are always seem to be multiple markers; there's an official pillar that's closer to mile 201, and I later see pictures of another rock-marker that I missed. I've probably walked more than 200 miles with the alternate I did into Idyllwild, anyway.

Then more long stretches along the side of the mountain, slowly and imperceptibly descending downwards, punctuated by switchbacks. I see Rawhide taking a break and I stop with her, eating some lunch and then lying down. I fall asleep for a few minutes, the temperature a perfect, radiating warmth. I haven't been sweating much today, and I haven't been able to decide whether I want to wear my rain jacket, either putting it on or taking it off at each break.

Once I get hiking again, I don't take a break until the water faucet at the bottom of the descent, in just 3 miles. I kind of want to go into Cabazon to get some In-N-Out, but I don't want to hitch alone; everyone in my little traveling group is camping here tonight. Mousetrap is going to Cabazon tonight to meet up with Tarantino, and a guy named Mark wants to go but doesn't think he'll get a hitch. I offer to be his ride-bride (women have better luck at hitching because we're seen as less threatening, so a ride-bride is a woman who helps a guy hiker get a hitch), and the three of us head out.

Mousetrap worked as a travel consultant, designing luxury trips for wealthy people; I ask him how to get cheap flights to Thailand, since I decided a week before leaving for the PCT that I was going to go with my friend, Parker, in November. (Hi, Parker! Hi, Conner! Hi Theresa!). Mark is a doctor, and after Mousetrap stops at a road to catch an Uber because his ankle is hurting, he tells me stories about various patients he's had and his time doing a residency as a homicide autopsy-person.

The trail is along a wide river bed here, so it's not exactly clear where it is, but we don't get lost. We get to the I-10 underpass, poke at the empty coolers there, and then move on. We walk to the on-ramp, and stick our thumbs out a few times. We've heard the hitch into Cabazon is really tough, and since it's so late in the day and overcast we decide to check Uber. It's pretty cheap so I hail (what is the proper verb here) a ride and we sit down on some rocks in front of a creepy building to wait.

A guy named Robert with a Prius picks us up. When we get to the In-N-Out, Colleen, Shipwreck, and a bunch of other people who were all camping back at the water faucet at 205 are all there! They got an Uber and are taking food back for a bunch of other hikers.

I get a grilled cheese (gluten is treating me well, except for maybe a little bloating, so yay!), animal fries, and a chocolate milkshake. Everyone who isn't from California is bemused by our enthusiasm for this place, and I guess the food here isn't all that great, but it's nostalgic and I don't know.

Mark and I get another Uber back, this time from a guy named Tommy with a leather-seated Camry. He drops us off, and asks us how long we've been out there. "I've been out here for maybe 18 days," I say.

"Wow!" he says.

We explain that we're hiking from Mexico to Canada on the Pacific Crest Trail.

"I wish I could do that, I'm too old!" he says. He's not old at all, so we laugh and say that people retire and do it all the time, and people do it in their 70s.

As we're walking off and getting lost in another maze of dry stream beds, I wonder aloud about the people we meet, and whether or not them meeting us will be the spark that will inspire them to do the PCT someday.

We catch up to Rosy and a hiker I've never met before, who introduces herself as "Fiona, or Snow White." She says she hopes it doesn't rain because she accidentally left her tent in a hotel room in Idyllwild. We set up camp next to Gusher and A-GAME. Rosy and Snow White move on.

As I'm putting on my rain fly, light drops of rain begin to fall. Looks like Rosy is getting a cuddle-buddy tonight.

Snowy trail on the shady side of Fuller Ridge.

The PCT after the alternate up to San Jacinto

May 8th- Day 17- 13.6 miles from Humber Park/Devil's Slide Trail in Idyllwild connecting at PCT mile 179.4, to Black Mountain Road campsites at mile 190.5

I wake up and realize I definitely did not sleep in. Nirvana is cooking things in the kitchen. I try to stay half-asleep as long as I can, until Nirvana announces that he's made us breakfast and it's ready. A fried egg each, potato pancakes made from the mashed potatoes, toast from the loaf of sourdough someone left here last night, and then leftover roasted veggies poured on the side. We have way too much food left over and we try to gorge ourselves; we need the calories and we don't want to waste. I finish mine and then go over to the fridge and pull out my ice cream and pizza. Second course! So full.

We pack up slowly, extricating our things from corners of the cabin. Nirvana takes a shower while he listens to some metal music..? I don't know what it's called. There's screaming and drums. His music taste surprises me often.

I go to ask if I can borrow the hotel's printer to print out the next section of the water report, then we pack up and leave. I bump into Rawhide and Colleen along the Main Street and they're catching a ride from Hurk, a local trail angel, to the Devil's Slide Trailhead. We catch him as he's just leaving with a load of hikers, and he says he'll be back in an hour, so we wait. It will kill my continuous footpath, but there aren't sidewalks in Idyllwild and I don't feel like walking several miles uphill while dodging cars.

I sit in the front and talk to Hurk during the drive. We get to the Trailhead and all of the trees are heavy with snow, and it's chilly. The snow is melting and big globs of slush fall onto me. I stop to put on my rain jacket.

I'm so slow, and I'm continuing whatever bad mood I had coming into Idyllwild. I feel depressed. Everyone is ahead of except for Colleen and sometimes Rawhide, and I cry a bit and feel bad about myself. Being down sometimes is normal, though, when you're hiking for 5 months.

I come up on a dayhiker, who is walking slowly and looking around as if to soak it all in. I look around, too, and it's beautiful. I feel better for a while, using my inchworm pace to appreciate the beauty. I'm walking through a tunnel of white-robed trees, snow plopping down everywhere. It's magical. Thank you, day hiker.

I think I'm struggling with trying to balance my loneliness and my need to belong with my need to be alone by myself. I've been around people a lot so far. Hiking with a group is definitely hard because I compare my hiking speeds with theirs, and I think it isolates me from meeting new people and getting to know them. I realize I've been basically with mostly Karma and Nirvana for 5 full days, and while I love them, it's pretty intense being around 2 other people so much for so long. I don't know, but I thought about it all a lot today. I hiked with Colleen on and off and talked to her about it a little bit.

I get to the junction where I have to decide to go up the Mt. San Jacinto alternate or stay on the PCT. Colleen is with me. We decide that 2 in the afternoon is too late to hike it, especially since we're both feeling very slow today. Immediately the PCT here is beautiful, golden sweeps of manzanita dotted with snow-laden pines. We don't regret not trying to summit.

After a break to eat snacks with Colleen, I start hitting my groove. The trail starts being spotted with patches of snow and slush, with places across the trail covered for a couple hundred feet. There are several points where roaring snowmelt comes down in a creek across the path and I have to rock-hop across. Practice for the Sierra.

There's a sign pointing to Fuller Ridge where the San Jacinto alternate and the PCT rejoin. It starts getting snowier and I focus on my footing. The trail goes along the sunny side of the ridge at first, rising and dropping to avoid rock outcrops. Then it crests the ridge and now the sun is hidden and the trail becomes all snow and slush. It's not dangerous, but it's definitely slow and I don't want to be forced to night-hike it alone if I can't find a piece of flat and snow-free ground to camp on. I'm glad I have my trekking poles to catch me if I slip on a slushy or steep patch.

I want to get to 190, but it's getting gray and I find a good, dry campsite at 189. I'm just setting up camp when a large group of people hike up. I hurry up to them and ask if they're hiking on. They say yes.

"I would have hiked on but I didn't want to be forced to night-hike alone," I say.

They say they'll wait, so I rush back and shove everything into my pack. It feels good to hike in the dusk with other people, and to not have to camp alone in the cold and snow. We get into the campsite, and its tent city! Everyone is here- Scissors, Shipwreck and Iguana, Mousetrap, Rawhide... I set up my tent and go to the picnic table to cook some dinner (curry lentil soup) with a French hiker named Francois. Mousetrap is in his tent by us and he says that Tarantino got altitude sickness as he was hiking out from the trailhead, and had to turn back... that really sucks. He might be hitching to Cabazon.

I eat my dinner in the cold and dark in my short-shorts and rain jacket. A full moon is rising above the trees. Colleen night hikes in- she says she thought she was going to die alone in the dark.

I go back to my tent and shiver in my sleeping bag, listening to people rustling on their air pads, and the odd fart.

It kept on snowing... heading back to the campground to pick up our packs and our soggy tents.

Catch 'Em from Russia made a snowman the morning of the second Zero, when we woke up to snow!