"To begin, begin." [William Wordsworth]

Many more wildflowers, countless varieties line the trail today. I stop often to marvel at their childlike happiness, share their joy, and take their picture.

We'd hiked the road in yesterday, a little longer route than the official trail around, so this morning it's the roadwalk on around and back out to where the trail crosses again, about a mile. Gordon is here to make sure we don't trek on past, as the crossing is somewhat obscure.

Ever since hiking together, our respective transcontinental treks in 2002, Sheltowee and I have had an ongoing contest as to who could pick up the most change along the road shoulders. We both got skunked this road-around, but I did pick up a stainless steel round-head Phillips sheetmetal screw--another souvenir for the mantle at home.

Yesterday I'd received a somewhat urgent email from my Webmaster, Cywiz. Her concern: "California wildfires ... broke out Saturday in the Angeles Forest (#6 location on the Forestry PCT Trail map). The area of evacuation right now seems to be in and around the foothills of Sierra Madre. There is much talk about the pollution of the air being vast in its outreach, and you, Slider and Sheltowee will be walking through the Angeles Forrest very soon." We have, indeed, heard about the fires and can see the far away cloud-haze they are creating. We're in no danger now but wouldn't be the least surprised to find the trail closed north of us.

Out a short distance, and in just moments I meet Big, and we hike together on up to a trailside camp. Here I wait for Sheltowee and Slider. We hike most the remainder of the day together, making good time, considering. Both continue to have day-to-day feet issues, healing blisters and tenderness. At Agua Caliente we have the first challenge, as to keeping our feet dry. The crossing appears to be, but is a not so easy rock-hop. Dan has to stop and wring out his right sock. Ha, yesterday he washed his shoes and spent 45 minutes tending them at the dryer in Warner Springs.

The trail climbs on up the canyon, presenting many more rock-hops, each crossing being a little narrower. Here in this ribbon oasis, Agua Caliente Canyon, does there present such remarkable contrast--this lush, green coolness, to the arid, sunburned brown of the surrounding desert. Dainty little flowers, tall grasses, gallant, century-old oak--just a remarkable pathway up and through. Ah, but with an occasional prickly pear cactus intermixed to remind us we're not far from the desert.

As we hike along, do we meet and pass other northbounders trekking out of Warner Springs, first Christina, then Vanity Fair, and her daughter, Wind Breaker.

We stop for lunch near Lost Valley Spring, elevation 4,450 feet. Also relaxing here for lunch are Grandpa Kilt and Spike.

Out from lunch, descending, do we enter the most intense desert burnover. This fire occurred years ago, but the barren desolation remains, exposed boulders and rock, pumice-like dusty sand, charred, blackened snags. The entire scene is depressing, forbidding, certainly not designed to gladden the heart.

Later we climb again to meet up with Spider and E.T. (Energetic Turtle). Now, late afternoon we arrive the little oasis, a weekend retreat in the desert, up on the mountain, called Mike's. Mike isn't here, but he's left a sign on the gate welcoming PCT thru-hikers. What a blessing to get in, as the wind has come up, has turned hard and steady, and it's becoming very cold.

Today is a long bop-it-along 24 mile day. Lots of side-slabbing around many lesser knobs and crowns. Where the trail follows the south-and/or west-facing slopes, the treadway is hot-hot sand and rock, requiring much concentration--and slow, frustrated churning. We stop often to cool our trail-weary doggies.

Along, we meet some new folks, Hardcore and Latecomer, and Brian and Tangent, Later we pass Christina, Alien March, Grandma Kilt, Spider and ET, and Big.

In some of these long stretches where there's no water anywhere, the PCT folks have established water caches, jugs of water stored in the bushes or in small, open sheds to keep the sun away. Most welcome today is the well-stocked cache at 13 miles out. Here, we pull up for lunch, then water-up before heading on north.  Sign on the shed reads, "PCT Class of 2008." Thanks, Pacific Crest Trail Association (PCTA)!

Earlier in the day, Gordon had left a message for both Slider and Sheltowee concerning new fires that will be causing trail closure just to the north. Apache Peak is on fire, around which the trail passes. As we approach the Pines to Palms Highway, our destination for the day, below we see the green U.S. Forest Service truck leaving the trail crossing. The forest ranger had just posted a hand-written cardboard sign on the kiosk there announcing trail closure for the next 50 miles north.

Gordon is here, as is Meadow Mary. Gordon to pick us up, and Meadow Mary to stock the water cache just inside the gate.

We waste no time heading down to Paradise Cafe--for their grand Jose burger. After, we return to the trailhead to pick up Alien march, who'd asked for a ride on up to Idyllwild, where Dan, Kevin, and I'll hole-up for a day's rest. We all dearly need a good hot bath--and a day off.

We've had a very much needed rest in Idyllwild, the stay most enjoyable. Idyllwild is definitely a hiker friendly trailtown.

Gordon finally gets us collected and loaded up around ten. Dan has already gone through a pair of shoes on his hike from Point Loma, and needs to stop at the General Store for some Super Glue to attach his gaiters to the new GoLites he's just purchased. It's a long winding climb up and then down to I-10 and Cabazon--thence to Palm Springs. We're finally on the trail north, north of I-10, around noon.

 

Looking behind us now we can see Fuller Ridge, the northern-most (snow-covered) mountain we've had to bypass. A report received this morning indicates the fire to be 70 per cent contained, and that the trail may be open again by the 7th or 8th. From our starting point here at Falls Creek Road, we'll hike on north for the next few days, allowing time for the trail to reopen and for the high-mountain snow to melt.

The trail today soon takes us under I-10. In the cool shade of the underpass, Trail Gorillas Don and John (local members of the PCTA) have cached an ice-filled cooler of pop for PCT thru hikers. Over 20 have already signed the cache register (no pun intended) today.

By noon we've climbed from the desert floor, up to  Mesa Wind Park, where hundreds of the three-prop wind-powered turbines are cranking in the wind. At the park office, and at the invitation of the Mesa Wind Park folks, we take our lunch break. An air conditioned conference room, a table to sit, and a fridge stocked with ice cold bottle water--really roughing it, eh!

By a little before five we've descended into Whitewater Canyon, and in short order we're at the Wildlands Conservancy Fish Hatchery where Gordon's already reserved a campsite for us. In the campground are Brian and Lisa, who've come out from San Diego to offer some special trail magic. They're set up for grilling burgers, are stocked with cold pop--and watermelon for desert. Hey, we're invited! Thanks Brian and Lisa!

Lots of hot sand, little shade, and plenty of climbing today. A tough but rewarding day.

A cool, clear morning, we're out and hiking a little after seven, the earliest hit-the-trail time for us so far.

The PCT leads out and up Whitewater River Canyon, from where it proceeds to climb the East Fork, Mission Creek, a distance today of twenty-plus, almost entirely up, from elevation 2,450 to 7,950, a vertical climb in excess of one mile.

I hike some today with Alien March, Sauerkraut, and Tyler. Late morning, Slider has another blowout, but this one not involving the feet as has been the problem previously. Suffice to say he's slowed way down and has started moving really funny. Well, anyway, just go to my poetry page and dig around till you find the ditty, Hiker's Scourge. That'll explain it!

The scene presented today is not one of beauty, rather one of scorched, barren earth. A raging fire swept up and through here in the recent past, burning everything in its path, so it seems did the earth burn too. Near the upper canyon we cross from the San Gorgonio Wilderness into the San Bernardino National Forest. Spared by the fire, the transition here is abrupt, from one of stark desolation to that of forested beauty.

Late evening and still climbing, Sheltowee, Slider, and I reach our camp for the night. Gordon has arrived and is waiting, to tell us of his adventure for the day--up the steep, rutted road to Mission Creek Trail Camp. Seems he had a few brush-ins, what with his low-clearance running boards--and a few not so low rocks. The rocks won. He was unable to open the right-side door until a bunch of hikers jumped up and down, bending the running board back down to where it belonged--a bit battered and still bent, yet functional.

A very cold evening, but we've a fine hot meal, prepared by Slider and Sheltowee. This has been the most demanding hiking day so far.

Gordon has us back on trail a little after eight. He'll be seeing us at lunch, at ten miles out where the trail crosses CA18. We're all hoping Slider can make the ten, and continue the remaining nine for the day, as he is suffering much pain from a very large blister on the ball of his right foot. Dr. Kill Me Quicker waved his magic wand over it last evening and again this morning--but we'll see.

A short way into the hike this morning the trail drops down into Arrastre Creek Canyon. The canyon is lush, the creek running the coolest clear water. Here in this canyon reside the most magnificent evergreen, perhaps even more majestic than the virgin stand of hemlock in Stover Creek near Springer Mountain, Georgia. I recall being in total awe when I first saw the huge hemlock there. Here in Arrastre are ancient Ponderosa pine and white fir. My reaction is the same. I stand and gaze in silence. It is as if there are grand sky-hinged cathedral doors opening before me, as if I am entering Nature's very own place of worship. The trail weaves back and forth among these towering giants. Pictures cannot begin to describe their majesty. You must come here and experience their presence for yourself.

Where the trail crosses CA18, Gordon is waiting--time for lunch. While relaxing and enjoying our respite, up drives Erik the Black. Erik lives in Big Bear and comes up often to meet and greet PCT hikers. He's up today to place a small sign by the trail announcing the availability of his new PCT Atlas. If you've looked at this year's list of sponsors, you know that Erik is supporting the old Nomad. I've been test driving his new guide to help us up the trail, and it has proven to be most helpful; thanks Erik!

A good climb to end the day, through jumbles of baseball-size rocks. Been a tough day, but I make it fine--so does Slider!

The drive back to the trail takes two solid hours, over rough, two-track ruts in some places. The custom running boards on the van are totally shredded, the braces busted loose, the once very nice aluminum diamond-plate bent and fractured beyond repair. To have had Gordon come in to support us at this nearly inaccessible place was a very bad decision. Gordon's always game though, and we've taken advantage of him. That's got to stop. In the past, when his sister, Sue, was still alive, they had a rule not to venture off paved roads--a good rule. We must consider returning to that rule, before we wreck Gordon's van entirely.

We're finally back on the PCT a little before three. Easy enough hiking. The trail leads on down Holcomb Creek, then climbs the canyon wall to cross up and over into Deep Creek. Deep Creek Canyon is properly named, as the narrow, near-vertical walls add effect to the sheer depth.  Along, the trail has been carved from the canyon face, crossing cliffs of solid rock in some places. As dusk approaches, and as we become the least apprehensive about finding a place to set camp for the night, the most remarkable once-in-a-lifetime (trail lifetime) experience happens. I'm hiking a few paces ahead of Sheltowee, who is ahead of Slider a step or three. We're happily clacking along, each in our own little world, when Sheltowee shouts, then abruptly pulls up. In the time span of no more than a second or two, and between us, a snake rolls down the bluff wall to plop in the middle of the trail right. It's coiled in a ball, its body wrapped around a mole. No concern for us, just the task of squeezing the life out of the mole, which it's apparently just bit hold of. We huddle around in disbelief. I grab my camera. Sheltwee and Slider both go for theirs. During the next three or four minutes we each shoot the coiling, recoiling scene--and the futile effort made by the mole to escape. Oh yes, the snake wins! Please remember to check out my photo album in a week or so--amazing video, absolutely amazing.

Just before sunset the canyon opens the least bit, to allow a small knoll, where upon we quickly ascend to pitch on the small flat-spot crown for the night. A short but very eventful day.

We've a short climb first thing, up and out of Cleghorn Canyon, then down and out of Lil Horsethief Canyon. A final climb takes us over to Crowder Creek. There we descend to Cajon Pass, a busy crossing for commerce; crushing commercial traffic both directions on I-10, and B&N and UPAC hauling both ways, seven diesel locomotives pulling the grade through the pass.

We're in a little before one. Trail marker says .4 to McDonalds. Oh yes, double cheeseburger(s) and biggie fries here I come.

Much climbing now, as the trail continues trending generally east/west, the mountains and their major canyons, generally trending north/south. So, more gumball machine roll-arounds, up and over the ridges, in and out of the side canyons; and so the trail goes, and so does it work us today.

By early afternoon we've managed to reach San Francisquito Road, where Gordon awaits to carry us down to Green Valley, and Anderson Hostel.

We no more arrive, get our tents set in their backyard, than we're informed by Terry that a fire is sweeping up the canyon toward us, and that we needed to prepare for evacuation. Down comes my tent. Ditto for Sheltowee and Slider. We load all our stuff back in the van--and wait for the order.

Smoke's coming over the mountain now, chopper hovering above the valley rim, spotter plane whizzing around. Hard to kill time, times like these, but we manage.

A block or so over, when we were coming up to the hostel, I'd noticed what looked like a really neat chop shop. Dan and I saunter down now to take a look. Kind folks, Cindy and Phil. Both busy, but they take time to greet us and invite us over. Cool stuff; an old Chevy pickup, chopped top, old blue-flame, stovebolt six, split manifold--really neat. And a full metal (not a fiberglass replica) '30 bucket roadster (pics will be up soon). You gotta see this stuff.

Well, the evac order never comes--fire's been contained. So we unload and set up all over--just in time for the grand taco salad supper, for 20 plus hungry hikers, prepared by the Andersons.

Showered up, full tummy, and now a bit of the old Laurel and Hardy style humor--a little skit performed by the Andersons, and it's time to call it a day. And what an event-filled day. Blessings. Oh yes, true blessings!

I tarry the longest time this morning, after looking out my tent flap and seeing nothing in the cold, wet gloom, except cold, wet gloom. Slider finally rousts me. Not easy rolling out from a dry, warm bag, to the cold, wet ground. Oh yes, I've got my tent down and packed in no time. No breakfast this morning, no coffee, no morning duty--yet. It's just too cold and wet to bother. We hastily load everything back in the van that we'd failed to put away last evening, shoulder out packs, and set out into it. Gordon's up too, and sends us off with his usual "Have a good one." But his encouragement seems to do little for our dampened enthusiasm.

First comes a long, steady climb, pretty much as usual, but this climb brings some surprises: more rain (we're in the clouds), then sleet, then small, pellet-sized hail. The wind comes up and really gets to whipping. The temperature drops, and the day begins making for one of those "never a bad day" days (but not the best).

We've been hiking off and on the past week or so with a young chap, Tyler Lion Heart Wagstaff. Our paths crossed again when he came into camp late yesterday. He wasn't looking or feeling so hot. Come to find this morning, he'd made several trips outside his tent last night. On the trail this morning, Dan and I soon catch and pass him--unusual.

The initial climb tends to be rather tough, what with the wind, the cold sleet, and the wet trail. Near the ridgetop, Dan and I decide to stop and wait around to make sure Lion Heart is okay. In awhile he comes along. He' moving fine now, so we hike most the remainder of the day together.

The clouds persist in their rushing by, driving the sleet at us, creating a tiring, not the most fun hike. I stop and try getting a video of the clouds in which we're suspended. Bailing off the mountain, and at much lower elevation, we finally emerge from the shroud of gloom and from the cold rain and sleet. At a road crossing, near 14 miles for the day, Gordon is waiting. Window cracked--"Get in the van and warm up." he orders. Don't have to tell me twice, Gordon!

After the warmup, which gets my sticks-for-fingers working again, we've seven miles of (more gumball) trail to finish the day at CA138, West Antelope Valley--and Hiker Town, a weekend retreat-turned-hiker-hostel. At the little office, near the main compound dwelling, we meet Bob, the caretaker. We're informed by Bob that the bunkhouse is full to overflowing (remember the hiker wave?), but their are a couple of bungalow-like buildings for rent. Dan and I take a quick look, then settle on a deal--for the four of us, including Lion Heart (Gordon always stays in the van).

In the evening now, Slider prepares dinner (Bob's let us bring our Coleman cook stove in), we relax and enjoy much good company. I have found Lion Heart to be a very interesting young lad--take a minute and check out his blog.