Day 24 04/09 Looking in the Mirror

In the morning we left Ziggy and the Bear's, our stomachs full and morale high. Apparently we'd been two of only a handful of hikers that crossed Fuller Ridge this early in the season.
We entered section "c," from the I-10 to the cajon pass, about 133 miles. It was hot and very clear that we were in the desert once again as the stretches between water became further and further.
We passed through the Mesa Wind Farm, in awe of the turbines that towered above us like sentinels and how they'd looked so tiny from eight thousand feet above. The water was irradiated there (Kind of scary) so we had to pack out as much as possible from the Bear's.
It was all uphill from the windfarm into the San Bernardino's. Eventually we came to the whitewater preserve, a really nice picnic area near a creek where families and day hikers come to splash and play. We took a siesta to avoid the midday heat and met this really cool family. The dad and mom were involved with scouting and were really nice but their son blew me away. I found myself wanting to talk to him even more than his parents. He reminded me so much of myself as a kid.
At first he was quiet, then he asked Joe if he was a diabetic. Joe was a little caught off guard, then the kid pointed out Joe's wireless blood sugar monitor and said he had one too, he was also type 1.
He then commented on the brand of my knife that I had- this kid clearly noticed details.
The more I talked to the kid the more intelligence he displayed. He was wise beyond his years and was a thinker. He loved the outdoors-hiking, camping, making a fire from scratch, etc. He took joy from that, which was refreshing compared to so many of the kids today that are glued to a TV screen. What impressed me the most though was to see that he didn't feel sorry for himself at all for being so young and being a diabetic. Joe talked to him about that, and left the kid with the message that it was part of what he was, not WHO he was-I saw it click in his head that if Joe was type 1 and could hike 2600 miles, nothing would ever hold him back. His mom was practically glowing the whole conversation.
We left the preserve motivated and inspired by this kid. I hope he goes places. I'm sure he will.
We made it out of whitewater canyon, only to be greeted with an almost fifteen mile uphill climb in the heat. This part was supposed to be mentally hard and exhausting. Joe read from our map notes.
"Long, hard, hot uphill slog. Bring your big boy pants."
I turned to him.
"I only got the one pair."

We pushed on into the evening and made it through the hottest part of the climb into the San Gorgonio Wilderness. With the sun going down and no obvious good camp for miles, we set up in the bottom a sandy wash off the trail just pass the San Andreas fault. It was the only flat spot around.
The sun set behind San Jacinto, and lit up all the clouds in the sky. Looking at that mountain I couldn't believe we'd come that far on foot. It was hard to comprehend.

Only 2400 miles to go. :)

Day 23 04/08 Easter Sunday

We wanted to get started at first light today so as soon as I heard that "ZIIIIP" of Joes sleeping bag I snapped awake and started packing. My brain, still half asleep and lazy tempted me to lay back down and return to the good dreams I was having but I fought the temptation and got everything packed and good to go. Joe asks if I heard him scream last night. I thought I'd heard something, but wasn't sure if i'd been dreaming. I asked him what happened.
"I woke up in the middle of the night to something huge licking my face! I screamed and tried to swat it away but I was trapped in my sleeping bag.
Me, shocked: "What did you do?"
" Nothing. It ran off."
Joe had cowboy camped. (no tent) My first thought was a coyote. However his food bag was untouched.
"This was no little tongue- it licked me from forehead to chin in one swipe. Whatever it was, it was large enough to loom above me. It had a BIG tongue."
That got me really interested. What would come up and leave his food alone, but lick him?
I looked around camp for prints. Definitely no black bear, no coyote, no lion. And there it was. Coming into our camp off the trail and up to his bag, then back out were deer tracks.
What cracked me up is I almost cowboy camped but didn't at the last second. I thought we'd get a lot of bugs, being close to the bushes.
No bugs.
Just a lonely deer, getting fresh.
I bet Joe felt vulnerable trapped in his bag not able to fight off all that lovin'.
It probably just wanted the salt.
We spent the day descending from San Jacinto, towering above us in all it's grandeur the entire way. We were at 9000 ft the night before, and at the end of the day we'd be at 1000.
The trail wound down the desert side of the mountain, which was completely different from the other snowy and forested flank. The terrain went from icy snow and pine needles back to rocky and uneven ground that just LOVES to give you plenty of opportunity to twist your ankles. However I was happy to be heading downhill, after practically a week of going up. I had been hesitant about buying the trekking poles back in Idyllwild, but now they never left my hands. My knees were very grateful. Getting down to the desert floor meant 22 miles of pounding steps.
In places the trail was very faint and overgrown. We hit mile 200 and pushed our way through the brush which was often taller than me. (that's not saying much.) Which reminds me- how many types of thornbushes does the world need?
I don't want the answer.
For the first time in a week it was hot, hot, HOT! I'd forgotten what heat felt like being up at elevation for so long. I was glad I'd began the trip early, and didn't wait til it was over a hundred in the Anza Borrego desert like everyone leaving at the normal time will probably experience. I guess it's a trade off though. They won't have to deal with any snow.
Waiting at the bottom for us where the water got piped out from the mountains was a chatty security guard for the Desert Valley Water Authority (I think). He showed us satellite photos of where we were going and an awesome picture of a WAIST HIGH mountain lion that was captured by a nearby game camera.
When I got phone signal I found out it was Easter.
Who would have known? I forget what day it is all the time out here.
My parents who live an hour away surprised us and made the trip down to Cabazon to intercept us when we hit the I-10, the end of section B of the PCT. We got to the freeway and climbed up the side where they were waiting to take us to Sizzler.
Best Easter EVER. I ate like it was my last meal. It was nice to see my parents for the first time since the border. My mom kept staring at me while I ate like she was horrified. Either that or in awe. I didn't stop shoveling in the food to find out.
After clearing out the buffet for our nice Easter lunch my parents dropped us like rocks back into the desert.
I was a little sad to see them go.
They took my leftovers.
We made our way a couple more miles to Whitewater, where the trail angels Ziggy and the Bear live. They let PCT hikers cowboy camp in their backyard, and provide an oasis in the desert before you enter the San Bernardino's to make the long hot climb up to Big Bear.
I can't tell you enough how great they were. We met Bear on the trail near his house.
"NO HIKERS ON THE TRAIL!" he shouted.
Confused, Joe and I looked at each other and back to this weathered but tough old man.
"I SAID NO HIKERS ON THE TRAIL!!"
Just when I'm wondering how to explain to this guy that this is the PCT and there are ONLY hikers on this trail, he smiled and said, "I'm just messin' with ya. I'm the Bear. You must be looking for our house."
He took us home and fed us and he and his wife Ziggy treated us like kings. They poured us Epsom salt baths for our feet (TWICE!!) and even had a great breakfast for us in the morning! We offered to do work for them, but they wouldn't even let us dump the water! So we left a donation in a jar on their kitchen counter.
Staying at Ziggy and the Bear's made a great end to a great Easter. We stayed up late talking about anything and everything with Bear and their good friend Ron.
As I fall asleep that night underneath the stars ( no danger of romantic animals this time, they had this nifty thing called a fence) I couldn't help but feeling like I was at home visiting my grandparents. After all, they treated us like family.
I was sad to go. Apparently we'd missed the installation of a porta-poddy. By one day.
My bowels just can't catch a break.

Day 22 04/07 Fuller Ridge

So it turns out the trail practically ran through our camp but you would never know it because it was buried under three feet of snow in a lot of places.
The night had been really clear with a bright moon that lit the mountainside and cast shadows from the ancient pine trees across the snow. The morning sun took a while to reach our little crevice of a camp. After we packed up I did the normal once over of my site to make sure I didn't forget anything. I actually found bleached bones, a femur for what must have been a pretty big animal, maybe a deer or a mountain lion.
It served as a reminder that we weren't out of it yet- we still had Fuller Ridge- though hopefully today would be the last day of icy snow traverses for a while. We started moving down the trail toward the ridge from a little above nine thousand feet past giant granite boulders that stacked against each other precariously and jutted into the skyline. The trail disappeared almost immediately and once again we were navigating cross country to each halfmile point. The snow at most times was at angles that if you fell would require a self-arrest with an ice axe- though luckily we didn't have any serious falls.
We were packed with a ridiculous amount of food to get to big bear, I think I planned for a week and had an extra day's worth. We made an effort to eat the heaviest things first. Joe's block of cheese, pepperoni and tortillas were the snack of choice for the day as they were almost two pounds.
Fuller Ridge went relatively well; the weather was good and we had a system down for navigating without the trail. We also kept an eye out for saw cut wood poking out of the snow banks- that would reveal where the actual trail was.
We had several small slips but nothing bad. One was pretty funny, I was taking a picture for Joe and I lost my balance while holding his brand new phone that he always seems to drop
I fell partway down the hill but I'd be damned if I was gonna let that phone fall- I held it high in the air the whole time I was sliding downhill in the snow and I never let it touch the ground.
Joe was grateful but cracking up, comparing it to watching someone try not to spill a beer.
We made it up and over the Ridge without incident and began the descent back into subalpine environment. Luckily we were facing the desert now and it was warmer. We saw four deer cut straight up a mountain at lighting speed, but they were graceful as they did it, prancing uphill one after the other.
We found a nice campsite that overlooked the giant wind turbines on the desert floor below and watched the sun set around the mountain. I picked wild onions by my tent and we both tried them. The moon rose high like a theatre spotlight in the sky. It was going to be a good night.
The San Jacinto's had lived up to their reputation for the early season, and put us to the test.
But we had succeeded.
I thought back to trail angel Dave's warnings on the car ride before we entered the range.
He had been right. You are insignificant in the mountains, and they don't care about your plans.
I went to bed tired but confident.
We had beat the early season beast.

Day 21 04/06 'Shwhacking up the Ridge

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.

Day 20 04/05 Idyllwild

We decided to take a zero (zero mileage or rest day) to finish all of the things we had to get done like going to the post office and buying the rest of our food for the seven day trek to Big Bear.
The last week from mile 77-176 from Julian to Idyllwild had been the longest stretch between civilization yet. It was exhilarating. I felt like I had made a transformation. I had entered a new domain of hiking and of outdoorsmanship- and especially of frame of mind.
I was getting my systems down.
Everything now had its place in my pack. I went from taking my sweet time in the morning and poking my head out of the bag ten times wishing the sun would stay down to being up every morning WITH the sun right after 6 a.m.
I now wake and don't think.
I just pack.
I went from being on the trail at 9 to being ready to walk before 7.
The first week or so I would wake up in my tent and for half a second I would be surprised to be there. I almost expected to wake up in my bed in my apartment or be somewhere else familiar. Opening your eyes to the roof of the tent was an instant reminder that I would be hiking all day, every day.
Between Julian and Idyllwild things completely changed. It really hit me that I was out here, that I was no longer planning, or prepping, or introducing the idea to people and getting crazy looks.
This was real.
There was no more driving to work, dealing with crazy customers. No more traffic, no more coming back at the end of the day to my place in the city.
I wasn't home anymore.
The trail had become my home.
I no longer felt even a tiny bit sorry for myself when I woke. I became grateful to wake up in that tent.
I learned to shut down any and all emotion on a hard day. That when you think you're at your breaking point and your body's gonna give out you still have ten more miles left in you. When you're sinking to your knees in the snow with every step and collapsing from pure exhaustion every 100 yards and you just don't wanna get up, YOU GET UP.
NO ONE is gonna come pick you up and give you a happy meal.
So you crush those little thoughts of "oohh poor me" and you suck it up and you move forward. There's absolutely no room for self pity when self reliance and motivation are your bread and butter.
I felt myself changing and adapting to my new environment. Every day that would go by I was more at home. I began to truly embrace the trail- a place where each day I wake up somewhere different and never look back.
I no longer felt like a visitor. I was now completely comfortable in this grand wilderness I felt part of.
During my stay I visited Nomad Ventures, the climbing shop in Idyllwild. This place is seriously awesome and they have excellent selection. They blow away most outdoors shops and their prices are competitive with the larger chains. The girl Breanne that was working there was extremely knowledgable and helped me select my trekking poles, as I finally made the decision to get some. Me, I've always been a hiking stick kind of guy, I find a stick and carve it up and get a new one when I need it. However I had 22 miles of rocky downhill ahead after a huge ascent to fuller ridge-and I can't argue with them taking strain off my knees over 2600 miles. So I bought them along with waterproof gloves, stove fuel and new shoe inserts- my feet were callousing up but the internal support in my boots was beginning to break down.
Life was just a little slower in Idyllwild, and everyone in town was very nice and went out of their way to accommodate hikers. There are plenty of restaurants, and they're all great. I loved how the locals all knew each other and how the ladies working at the post office cracked jokes on everyone that came in. It's a really nice town to visit.

That night I laid out 7 days of food (+1 for emergency) on the table and was amazed that I would eat all of it.
We studied the week's maps by the fireplace, embracing the warmth of the crackling logs.
I tried to sleep but couldn't. I had too much to think about. I'd been out for two and a half weeks and it felt like months. All of the experiences I'd had already drowned out the last few years of life in the city. It was almost too much to comprehend.
Early the next morning we would begin the ascent to Fuller Ridge, known for being dangerous this early in the season. Despite all the warnings from people who said "you won't make it, it's too earl, it's too hard with this much snow, etc..."
We had our minds made up. We weren't taking the safe road walk detour around the big bad ridge.
The way I viewed it, this was just another part of this two thousand mile crucible, another test of will.

Come hell or high water, we were going up and over.