Didn't sleep much last night, meant to get more but the planning and packing had me up well past midnight.
Trail angel Dave met us at 7:30 and had us on the trail by 8:10 for a head start. It was 2.5 miles up the Devil's slide trail just to get back up to the PCT, and it didn't count.
Our goal was to be over fuller ridge today and starting the descent so we didnt have to camp in any high exposed areas.
We shot up the Devil's Slide pretty quickly, and within a mile of hitting the PCT snow patches turned into completely covered ground again. We had avoided putting on the crampons until then. We strapped them on and headed forward.
The first few miles were very manageable. We followed the path under giant pines to the point where the back end of the San Jacinto loop exits on the PCT from Round Camp and all signs of trail disappeared under several feet of snow.
We decided to stop and get our bearings and compare maps when we ran into a couple that was lost. They were trying to make it up to Round Camp but were stuck and couldn't tell where to go. While we got our heading toward the next mileage point they were struggling to read their maps. We were in steep snow and ice and very isolated.
I was kind of worried so I showed the guy where we were on the map twice and hinted at where he should go. He just seemed so confused. I wondered if the altitude was getting to him. His partner wasn't even part of the conversation, she was just sitting off to the side against a rock , avoiding us completely. She seemed mad.
I wanted to help the guy, but I also wondered if he should head down off the mountain. They wouldn't have been the first. We'd seen two other lost parties giving up and heading down for the day.
He was attached to the hip , and it was kind of dangerous out here.
I'm thinking "buddy I can't be responsible for you, i'm trying to figure out where to go myself here"- he got here and lost his way and didn't know how to read his maps and it could endanger his life.
Regardless of my opinion I when we were ready to go I showed him one last time where he was, where to go down and where he wanted to go. Just when I thought he had it he said, "Well, maybe we'll just camp here and decide what to do tomorrow. "
I was astonished.
We were on three feet of uneven snow with nothing flat hospitable. But to each his own. At least he wasn't giving up.
Joe and I trudged off into the snow, taking turns kicking steps into the slopes. Keeping our bearings under all that tree cover and in such steep terrain was difficult, but I learned quickly. That still didn't prevent us from having to cut extreme angles uphill through bushes and over fallen trees that were chest high. At one point I postholed, and then trying to get of my hole i postholed four more times. I was glad it didn't happen often.
The trail was long gone, and as the sun went down I knew it should be near. After a long, physically and mentally hard day there was nowhere to camp and we still hadn't found a sign of the trail.
We had angled ourselves above Fuller Ridge so we could descend down onto it in the morning. Finally I found the trail, faint as ever at these remote high elevations. It emerged from the snow for only a couple feet at a time, but it was very gratifying and great for morale after such a hard day. Even better were two small campsites we found hidden out of the wind. We went to bed above 9000 ft, grateful to have found confirmation that we were on the right path. We'd descend the ridge tomorrow. No more climbing. In the morning we would begin the 22 miles of downhill to the I-10.
Our goal was to get up and over in one day. So now it was two.
Like everything else out here, things never go as planned.
I was happy to be safe and warm. :)
P.S. check out the topography on Joe's foot below.
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