Day 18

May 20, 2013
Mile 347
30 miles today

Restaurant geography dictates. It was 25 miles to the Del Taco at El Cajon Pass.
Some one else preparing your food is mile motivation. Thus the goal was set. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to camp in the vicinity of Del Taco and its freeway overpass. The first water cache was yet another 5 miles on. Mathematically, a 30 mile day. The formula as follows: walking 3 mph for 10 hours plus 2 hours for breaks / food / water = 12 hours for 30 miles = multiple burritos and strawberry milkshakes. Which is just another way of saying we started early. You can’t really walk much faster than 3 mph with a backpack, so the way to increase miles in any given day is to walk longer hours. At 6 AM the crunch of gravel was being broadcast.

The trail climbed and fell based on the dictates of geography. At one point, it passed the base of Silverwood Lake Dam, then it rose to give the lake itself a hug. Here I learned that the body of the missing hiker had been found. The police were questioning the veracity of her hiking partner’s statements. For the sake of our bus friend, I hope her father is cleared.

The path continued to meander in the general direction of Taco Haven. At times the 15 Freeway would make a teasing appearance, but the path appeared uninterested in it as a direct destination nor in my visions of Latin cuisine. Thus it went here and there, randomly picking a hill to climb and descend, with me as a hostage to its whims.

Finally the path got bored and gave me to Del Taco, where I got busy. In order: one large strawberry milkshake, 1 liter of Gatorade, 2 liters of ice water, one beef taco, one fish taco, one nacho grande chicken burrito, one liter of Mountain Dew and candy bars for desert. The chill of air conditioning, our first in 18 days, finally chased us out, and we resumed our northerly direction.

A conversation took place in which I was asked, “Do you think you will make it to Canada?” My answer, “Yes, unless something unforeseen happens,” the unforeseen being unworthy of examination because it lays in the future with its train wrecker of possibilities. I’ve grown tired of the future. It’s too heavy for my backpack. Right not I’m satisfied with the immediacy of the hiking day. Where is the next water? What mile are we at? And so on. The future will show up with all its unforseens whether I invite it or not. So why waste time juggling it in my mind before hand?

Full of calories, we arrived at a water cache located in a dry wash replete with lawn furniture and the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue. Predictability doesn’t seem to be a PCT strong suit. And so, I write at the kitchen table, with yucca plants casting moonshadows over my paper and kangaroo rates as distractions. Time to call it for what it was, a perfect day on the PCT, with all its unforseens now memories.

Steve Halteman
On the Pacific Crest Trail
Hiking the PCT for the Kids of Escuela Verde

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

May 19, 2013
25 miles today

Woke up cold. Moved out chasing the warmth of the sun. Smiled when I found it. The oatmeal kicked in and my pace quickened. I often imagine stevedores, like on the Titanic, inside my body. Shoveling coal into the boilers, quickly or slowly, depending on my need for speed. It’s a fun image.

As I made my way down the path, I hoped Stupid and Dumbass would not mistake me for game and do something unpleasant with their crossbows. Yesterday, when they passed our camp, S&D told of lunch. Two eight inch trout and stinging nettle salad. I love this stuff.

Arrived at the bridge over Deep Creek and watered up. There Slack did a yoga move off the rail of the bridge, high over the creek below. Once again confirming his low regard for the implications of risk. Another 5 miles brought me to the hot springs at Deep Creek. They were a good five miles as I had a sweeping conversation with Rocks, a thru hiker in the same chapter and place as me in life. Conversations tend to be very good while hiking, as they are free from intrusion and interruption. One can only walk and listen.

The Deep Creek Hot springs were quite the dynamic. In any given pool, one would find families, nudists and thru hikers with bad feet sitting side by side. As it was Sunday, the crowds were large and animated.

Then it was back to the North. Foot by foot, until an arrival. The trail climbed high on the canyon wall above Dry Creek. It paralleled an old, forgotten aqueduct. The temperature hovered around 100 degrees.

And then, a scene not predicted. A family sitting in the shade with two large, panting Newfoundland dogs and a new litter of pups. Bizarre and sad, as I don’t think the pups were long for this world due to the heat.

At the canyon mouth, the Mojave River Valley stretched low and far. Deep Creek exited as we did, humiliated by four-wheelers diving through her and over her protected and endangered toads.

Eventually we stopped for the night by a small stream where I write this by headlamp under a half moon.

And, so, I say goodnight.

Steve Halteman
On the Pacific Crest Trail
Hiking the PCT for the Kids of Escuela Verde

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

May 18, 2013
27 miles

The shuttle back to our PCT departing point left at 7:30 a.m. Always back to where we left the PCT. If you’re going to walk the PCT, why skip parts? Before we left, Slack made pancakes mixed with sugar cereal to a startling effect. The shuttle was a ’92 Oldsmobile station wagon with a roof rack. Eighteen legs and nine backpacks crammed in. We made asphalt divots as we left the driveway.

A quick pace carried others and me up the mountain and away from the drop off point. The goal was the first water stop some ten miles away. There, lunch was had on a small wooden bridge spanning a shallow stream. Recent from town, the food was fresh – a vegetable platter and cherries.

From there, the trail descended through a cooked landscape full of tree skeletons. The fire must have been intense as boiled sap was everywhere. Eventually the path landed in a canyon with a flowing large stream. There, I encountered a roofless outhouse replete with a Maxim magazine. Excessive luxury that softens one’s resolve. Also there, I caught up with Doc and his brother John, who had flown in from the wilds of Ohio to hike a section with his big brother.

The stream began to widen due to the industriousness of beavers. Around a corner, we stumbled upon Stupid and Dumbass. Trail names, not descriptions. S&D were hunting and foraging up the PCT. Making their way to Canada while living off the land. Based on their thinness, I’m guessing the pickings had been slim. Their dog, however, looked fairly well for having decided to widen his owner’s narrow definition of foraging to include bumming handouts from other thru hikers. I hope Plan B for S&D included a credit card.

People like S&D bring novelty to the trail and should be applauded. A trail needs human color, like Ron Ulrich, who was sponsored last year by a wedding gown company. He went through twenty-six dresses with trains by the time he reached Canada.

Camp was the best spot to date. Many years before someone had built a dam. Of course, it had silted up like all dams in the West clicca per info. Ironically, a swimming hole had been created on its downstream side. So we swam, had a campfire, roasted marshmallows and strategized on how to replace toilet paper with Assblasters on the PCT next year. An elaborate scheme was hatched to reunite at next years PCT kickoff and distribute Assblasters for free. Vamos a ver, or we will see.

Dreaming of the future is a great and cheap liberty.

Steve Halteman
On the Pacific Crest Trail
Hiking the PCT for the Kids of Escuela Verde

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

May 17
2 miles

The wind found ways to work its way under my quilt so I woke up cold. Was happy to get moving. The two miles to the highway were a sprint, but the hitch into town proved problematic. Four people hitching seemed more like an ambush than hitch hiking. Luckily we were able to get a hold of Big Bear Hostel who sent out a truck to pick us up.

No beds were ready yet, so Sarge, the ex-Marine manager, suggested a local breakfast feeding establishment. There Orbit took on the breakfast challenge – six hula hoop sized pancakes in under an hour. If successful, which had never happened, you get your picture on the wall and $50 and a day of agony on some couch. My prime in eating contests is long past so I was reduced to coaching. Her gallant efforts collapsed after three pancakes.

Back at the hostel, Sarge checked us in. A 16-year veteran, he had been in too many conflicts, including Beirut in 1983. There he had been blown 30 ft. by the blast that killed 200 plus of his fellow soldiers. Of his original squad of 80 men, only two are alive today. I would guess him to be 50 years old. That is a steep price paid in full.

The day was consumed by the usual in-town chores and errands. I picked up my bounce box and new tent pole. Thank you Z Packs. I am now back in shelter. Cleared the super market out of Couscous which I am now a master chef of. Ate a small school of sushi. Re-watched Scent of a Woman for Al Pacino’s performance. And thought about the ongoing search for a missing day hiker. A man, woman and a dog had gone out for a hike from Big Bear. Only the dog and man had returned. The woman had been missing for three days. I remembered our last cold night of camping. Interestingly, I met the daughter of the returned man while riding the bus. She told his side of the story. Hard to avoid conclusions on my part. Maybe luck will be with her.

Made it to sleep before the drinkers returned.

Steve Halteman
On the Pacific Crest Trail
Hiking the PCT for the Kids of Escuela Verde

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

Mile 264
28 miles today

Woke up well and started toward Big Bear Lake. Climbed out of the desert and back into the pines completing a process begun around Mt. San Jacinto many thousands of feet ago. Was in a very good mood and began to wonder why I liked this trail so much in comparison to others. The answer was simple. Other trails begin and end in a measurable period of time. While hiking there is always that nagging thought that in an hour or a day or even a couple of weeks, the end will be reached and you’ll have to go back to life.

The PCT, as least for someone calendar challenged like myself, has no end. Finishing, so many months away, can’t be digested. Which to me, makes it much more than a trail. It elevated the trail to a way of life. A walking road if you will, the finish of no concern. Every day one gets up and moves down the road. Nothing more, Nothing less. Others are doing the same. All footprints point north. Later in the year, a minority of hikers will start at Canada and move south. Like two tides, eventually they will meet. There will be some confusion and then footprints everywhere will reverse direction, to await the next hiking season.

At some point I reined in and took a short nap. Awoke covered in ants. They didn’t seem interested in biting, so I endured for a little while, a curious sensation, but not pleasant.

Had lunch with Slack, Red Beard and Orbit in an abandoned log cabin while nursing my first injury. I had stepped on a rock with my left foot. It promptly flipped up and its sharp edge took a chunk out of my swinging right big toe.

The cabin was covered in graffiti that is a sad reflection on the human state. Still, I enjoyed the graffiti at Abu Simbel in Egypt. There, Napoleon’s soldiers had spelled out their homesickness on the ceiling of the temple using candle smoke. So I guess there is even hope for graffiti and perhaps the human condition too.

The pace was quick and the gentle downslope into Big Bear was forgiving. The miles flashed by. Some days you walk to think, some days to see and some days to move. Today was the later. Our only speed bumps were the outstanding supply caches left by local businesses to entice hikers. A five star cache reviewed by various rating agencies had reclining lazy boys, chilled carrots and Tiki punch. Big bear Hostel has style.

We pulled up two miles before the hitchhiking point into Big Bear, to save on accommodation. Put up camp amongst some windswept Pines where I learned a new trick from Slack. Pinesap burns at an amazing intensity. He said, “try it out.” The couscous was presentable in record time, the night was cold and the wind blew hard. But all was warm under my quilt, NPR faded into dreams and the night took over.

Steve Halteman
On the Pacific Crest Trail
Hiking the PCT for the Kids of Escuela Verde

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

May 14
Mile 235
25 miles today

A sleepless night due to the constant pummeling wind was balanced by the breakfast spread laid out by Ziggy and Bear. This selfless couple moved to Cabazon and bought the closest possible house to the trail solely to provide refuge to hikers during a difficult stretch of the trail. A donation box exists but is never mentioned. They only ask that a postcard is sent if Canada is reached. Bear said that this is a record year for hikers as 600 had passed thru to date, with another 100 expected. I was present when the 600th hiker arrived. He was promptly awarded a Canadian 20 dollar bill Motivation defined.

I left early and began to climb up a canyon past the Mesa wind farm. The sun rose behind the giant wind turbines, their blades daring birds to take a shot at passage. Revolving shadows sliced the trail as I moved upward, serenaded by their strange hum.

Crossed a high ridge, saw a striped racer snake, a gopher snake and a zebra tailed lizard. The dropped down into a wide canyon with a genuine flowing stream. Even had a shallow swim then back up and over the next ridge, where I had a curious conversation by renewing my cell phone plan with an operator in India while strolling a remote section of the PCT. Yet another drop into a Cottonwood canyon with stream. Fifteen miles of walking and an ever rising thermometer convinced me and everyone else that passed that way, that shade/lunch was in order.

Between naps I became convinced that a swimming hole existed on this river because there was a big blue circle on the map. I set out to find it while other stayed in the shade. For 7 miles I crisscrossed the stream to its bitter end with no luck. The best I could do in the 100-degree heat was dunk my hat in the lukewarm water. Nothing wrong with a quest.

Three miles up a dry side canyon developed water concerns which were not to be. A campsite shaded by stubborn Oaks with a stream that ended 200 yards down site was home for the night. Water provides all that is needed in the desert.

Steve Halteman
On the Pacific Crest Trail
Hiking the PCT for the Kids of Escuela Verde

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

May 14, 2013
Mile 210
20 miles today

Our little group ended up sprinkled up and down, an elongated arm connected to Mt. San Jacinto, which stretched for miles. I slept alone at Mile 191 in a strong wind. The glow of Los Angeles looked like an out of control fire. My last thoughts were of two airplanes passing so close that one blotted out the other for a brief second.

Had a look at the map first thing in the morning. The trail dropped thousands of feed to the 10 Freeway. A side note read that it was but four miles to the next water stop on the wings of a crow. Unfortunately human would need to walk 15 miles to reach that same spot. I had 2.5 liters of water. Figured that was enough for a fan of deserts. I walked through thick pines with a goal of creosote bushes.

Shared the trail for a while with Captain. A one-time garbage boat driver on Catalina Island turned editor at Backpacker Magazine. She commented that she was a snake magnet, having seen five rattlers to date. Despite my best efforts I was yet a rattlesnake virgin, which I explained and then quite confidently stated that it was a little late in the day for rattle snakes to be out anyway. Immediately, BAM! A Western Diamondback Rattlesnake exploded next to my leg. I played into the Tijuana two-step waiting for my excited brain to calm down and inform me where the snake was. LEFT! I tangoed right. The snake exited stage left. “Told you,” she said. My dignity returned. Thirty yards later, BAM! This time a baby speckled rattlesnake in a bush. OK. Forty yards and, oh hell, another Speckled crossing the path. Now it was old hat. Didn’t even flinch when a Red Racer snake shot across my bow fifty yards on. (The Red Racers are the fastest snakes in North America at a shocking 5 mph.) Never have I seen such a concentration of snakes on such a hot day. My relief was shameful when I soon after split with Captain, but it did make it safe to proceed. Nor did I see another snake.

The desert was endless, shade rare and the temp around 105 degrees. Obviously, the trail designer was paid by the mile, because their switchbacks meandered without descent. Finally arrived at a shadeless tap after 5 hours of walking. Was able to rehydrate the cotton balls in my mouth and contemplate the 5 miles remaining. Orbit and Doc had been waiting and we took off together for a 5-mile jaunt across the frying pan. The target being the fleeing railroad bridge under the 10 Freeway.

Arrived, once over easy, to ice cold Mountain Dew left by a trail angel and trains passing overhead. The trains were double stacked, carrying the products of Chine to the end of their 1200-mile distribution.

One more mile through the wind, brought us to Ziggy and Bear’s backyard, trail angels who welcome hikers with a complete embrace. In order: a foot bath, followed by a shower, followed by a Burger King run, topped with an ice cream social and a bed on Arab carpets under the stars. Salaam Alaikum.

Steve Halteman
On the Pacific Crest Trail
Hiking the PCT for the Kids of Escuela Verde

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!