This morning we hitched a ride to a restaurant (we’re starting to get good at this) to meet John for breakfast, and then we hitched again to get back to the trailhead.
Hiker parking.
It’s always nice to come in to a town with little water and near empty food bags – our backpacks feel like day packs. It’s another thing to leave a town with five days worth of food and sometimes several liters of water. It can feel like you’re carrying rocks. And the way out of town is usually uphill.
We hiked up and up and up and came around corners to find views of Big Bear Lake and snow covered mountains that made us all stop to take pictures only to continually find better spots for pictures as we walked. We passed some trail runners who stopped to enjoy the view as well before sprinting off and the few of us there collectively decided that those people are a little crazy.
Big Bear Lake“Use love as your guide in everything.”The dinner crew.
We were up early today because we were headed for Highway 18 to get a hitch into Big Bear Lake for resupply and the use of modern amenities. It was an easy, mostly downhill, hike and ten miles flew by.
Please step on the vegetation with the biggest boots you can find?
We reached the highway and I was just about to call Mountain Mama, one of the trail angels in Big Bear City who, along with Papa Smurf, hosts hikers at their home, when a man pulled up in a minivan and offered us a ride to town. He said he was giving rides to hikers so he wouldn’t have to go into work just yet. We were glad to be a diversion. Bless his heart, the man drove us to the post office and waited while a couple of us picked up packages and then drove us all over Big Bear Lake until we found a cabin at Wolf Creek Resort big enough for the eight hikers we’d managed to collect by then.
We spent the rest of the day eating, buying groceries and cleaning ourselves and our clothes. We had to hitch a ride from our cabin to the grocery store because it was a whole mile and a half away and just because we can hike ten trail miles before 10:30 in the morning doesn’t mean we want to walk any further than is necessary once we hit a town. It took about ten minutes for someone to pick us up, which just puzzled Roi to no end. Apparently it is much harder to hitchhike here than in other countries, although I will say that it probably didn’t help that we looked homeless or that he kept throwing his hands up in the air, yelling, ‘You Americans!’
Once we finished our chores we had a trail family-style lasagna dinner at the cabin which was a lot of fun.
Gringo, Tom, Katie, Matthew, Roi, Connor and Allen
For dessert, Roi and Alan tried to get shamrock shakes from the McDonald’s across the street, but their lobby was closed and they wouldn’t let them walk through the drive thru, so we settled for pints of ice cream and peppermint patties from 7-11 instead. Roi just couldn’t understand why an American McDonald’s would turn down his money just because he was on foot. There is quite a bit about America that Roi finds nonsensical, like the practice to add sales tax on the restaurant bill, but not on the menu. I so enjoy his take on things.
In my bedroom last night, the trees were my walls, the stars were my ceiling and the moon was my night light. Every time I woke up I saw them and fell asleep again with a smile on my face. There were no critters in my quilt and nothing ate my food, so I consider cowboy camping a success.
Today we hiked on through the San Bernardino forest until Arrastre Camp, where we stayed the night along with about fifteen other people that rolled in. Outro (Matthew) was one of them and we were happy to see him again.
Along the way we passed a depressing animal training facility with motionless tigers and bears pacing back and forth, hit the 250 mile mark, and found a dumpster in the woods with no trail magic in it. Only one black banana.
Gringo, taking a rest on what I’m sure is a super clean couch.
During our post-dinner hot chocolate, Roi shared with us that the next day was going to be the Israeli equivalent of our Memorial Day. He told us that the meaning of the holiday changed for him when he lost friends in military conflicts and a cousin to a suicide bomber in Tel Aviv. They were all near his age – in their twenties. We ended the evening with a shared moment of silence for his friends and whomever else we were each thinking about.
“When you get to the end of a canyon, you know the only way out is up.” ~ Katie
Nothing super remarkable happened today. Except for the wrong turn that I took that led Roi, John and I to a dead end, from which we had to scramble up a steep hill to get back on trail. We realized what had happened when we looked up and saw Katie and Connor on the trail up above, asking what the heck we were doing down there.
You can’t tell from this picture, but that is not John’s happy face.
When we got back on track, we walked for miles along Mission Creek and then we hoofed it straight up the mountains of the San Bernardino National Forest for 4.5 miles until I died. I died three times. If I don’t get in better shape by the sierras, they are going to kill me.
Into a new wilderness.This was the view for miles. I had the back of Roi’s backpack memorized.
Part of the forest that we went straight up through was destroyed by the Lake Fire in 2015 and what is left standing is sadly beautiful. I tried capturing it with my camera, but like all of my photographs so far, they can’t adequately convey the grandness and the solemn feeling of it all. I walked most of the way through this area by myself and was grateful for the time alone.
I finally crawled into camp exhausted and with dead legs and found Roi and Paul hanging out with a man from Camas, Washington and another from Brisbane, Australia. We conjectured about the condition of the Sierra while we made dinner, which for me was a Ramen Bomb – ramen noodles and mashed potatoes mixed together. It’s as gut busting as it sounds and I blame Roi for telling me about this. I’m trying to digest it as I type this post. Katie and Strongback rolled in a few minutes later but John decided to camp a half-mile back since he was tired and hungry and didn’t want to go any farther.
Do not try this at home.
In addition to the Ramen Bomb, I am trying another new thing this evening – cowboy camping. I keep saying I’m going to do it but then I chicken out at the last minute. Not tonight! Of course I didn’t do it last night when it was nice and warm out, but waited until we climbed to nearly 8,000 feet…I’m feeling glad that I have a zero degree quilt, for sure. Camas man kindly shared with me all of his stories about creatures that he has woken up to find in his sleeping bag, so…yah. Thanks Camas man!
Look Ma, I’m cowboy camping! The dreaded poodle dog bush.
“There’s one thing I’ve learned – if there are windmills, there’s gonna be bad tent weather.” ~ Strongback
I was really hoping I wouldn’t sweat today. I started out clean and shiny, and it only took the desert a couple hours to change that. The sun was out in full force by the time we started hiking.
From the snow to the heat.
At about mile 213, we came up on the Mesa Wind Farm, where the employees were barbecuing hamburgers and hot dogs for PCT hikers. They said that they do that sometimes when they feel like it, and we were glad that they felt like it today! Who doesn’t like second breakfast??
Sriracha mayo even!
We eventually had to leave the oasis of barbecued meat and cold water to head back out into the heat, and in PCT style, we started climbing. There were hikers hidden in just about every small patch of shade dotting the canyon we were in.
One of many hot, dusty climbs.
Along the way we confronted one of the moral dilemmas facing every long-distance hiker: do you cut a switchback and risk violating Leave No Trace principles and incurring the scorn of your fellow hikers or do you say screw it, I’ve had enough of this damn meandering trail and it’s unnecessary miles?? I will let you decide.
The trail entered the San Gorgonio wilderness and the landscape started to change, particularly when we got closer to the Whitewater Preserve along Mission Creek. We couldn’t pass up the opportunity to stop there for lunch and get a little backcountry foot bath.
We hiked until it started to get dark (still not sure about those mountain lions…) and then camped next to Mission Creek. The chorus of frogs and the sound of the river rushing by put me right to sleep.
“Is anyone else hungry?” ~ Me, several times a day
I’m not sure if John’s wife knew what it was going to mean to have five dirty, smelly, hungry hikers descend upon her house for two days, but she and her daughter graciously gave up their personal space, let us do laundry and cooked food for us. It was SO deeply appreciated. Thank you Loyda and Sandy!!
While we were taking the time off, we did our resupply, ate food, mailed some things home, ate food, soaked in the jacuzzi, played with John’s pit bulls, and ate more food. I picked up a new tent at REI since the one I was using had so much unused space in it, even with me and all of my gear. I shaved nearly a pound off of my base weight in the process. Every ounce counts!
I also had time to get to know a hiker that we picked up in Cabazon, Lieutenant Dan (Roi Ben Shoham) from Israel. It was fascinating to hear about his time in the Israeli military, his perspective on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and his travels. He is in his twenties and has an appreciation for life that many of us don’t.
We’ll be back on the trail bright and early Friday morning!
Ahhh…relaxation. Joanie and Rocko. Doing what pit bulls do? I wonder how much a pit bull will add to my base weight? Four of us have birthdays in May!
At home, the windstorms usually die down sometime during the night and the next morning all is calm and it is safe for you to go fetch your garbage can or your front porch furniture from your neighbor’s yard. That was not the case this morning. The wind was still threatening to turn our campsite into a yard sale so we got out of there as fast as we could and made our way down miles of ridges and switchbacks for approximately an eternity.
Close to the end of our hike today was a large water tank that we could see for the first time from miles above it. That tank did not get any closer for hours, until suddenly we found ourselves practically on top of it. It felt like a Monty Python sketch.
From there we walked another mile, and met the wife and daughter of our hiking buddy, Sock Changin’ John, who took us all to their house where we plan to stay for a couple days to resupply, rest up and hang out in the jacuzzi until we can no longer feel the muscles in our legs.
But first we had to join the other truckloads of hikers that stopped at In & Out Burger in Cabazon. Of course.
Resting up at the watering hole.Canadian ramen. With simulated chicken flavor!Looking back at San Jacinto and the trek down into the valley.
“I like being near the top of a mountain. One can’t get lost here.” ~ Wisława Szymborska
Today was fantastic. I slept horribly last night (I still haven’t figured out how to get a good night’s sleep in a tent, so I’m always a little sleep deprived out here) but I woke up feeling good and my legs and lungs were ready to climb the rest of the way from Little Round Meadow campground to the top of Mt. San Jacinto. This detour off of the PCT was worth it. The morning was clear and the views stretched for miles. Continue reading “Day 15: San Jacinto and Fuller’s Ridge”
“People get to this place many different ways. You don’t always want to follow someone else’s footsteps.” ~ Hiker I met as he was coming down from San Jacinto
Today we took the Deer Springs trail out of Idyllwild up to the PCT, followed the PCT trail for a couple miles, then turned onto the San Jacinto Peak trail and hiked until we camped at the Little Round Valley campground at about 9700 feet. It was a tough uphill climb for me today. My legs felt heavy, my pack felt heavy, gravity felt heavy. All I wanted was to walk on something flat.
A mile past our campsite this morning we came across the Walden cache, a neat stop with a little free library and cutouts of Henry David Thoreau and Walt Whitman. Apparently the trail angel, Mary, doesn’t like to be bothered by hikers but does keep the cache stocked and maintains a register in which she asks hikers to name a book that inspired them and why. Continue reading “Day 13: Back to Civilization, Briefly”
