Mile 210 to 266 – Ascending to San Gorgonio and Big Bear (April 18 to 23)

It was fitting to start non-sequentially for the first time on this PCT adventure (and far from the last) as the Class of 23 navigates this year of unprecedented precip. After a month to the day, arriving in Palm Springs, a bid farewell to the city, the TrAsh townhome, and Ashley and Aspen who took my trusty car with them back to Seattle.

Originally the plan was to return Monday, but my departure was tied to the arrival of a very special tent, cutting my weight for this critical item for 4.5 lbs to 1. That may not seem like much, but every ounce matters far more than I could have imagined with the daily mileage needed to have a chance to finish this in a calendar year. More weight equals more food which equals more weight and the lower leg/ankle/foot knows every bit. My pack is still too heavy by about 20%, but this is a start and any additional major changes will come after the flip north to Ashland in mid May.

The tent, the Durston X Mid Pro arrived, albeit Tuesday afternoon. I was committed to get out there ASAP and an hours after it arrived, we bid farewell to Palm Springs and Ashley dropped me off at the trail just north of I-10. It was pushing 5pm when I started up the hill from just 1,300 feet and it was VERY hard to say goodbye. There wasn’t another soul around and when I finally started walking, I’d stop and wave my poles to my receding parked car, wife, and puppy. When I couldn’t see them anymore, it was still beautiful in the golden hour light, but the sense of loneliness and melancholy was pretty overwhelming. I committed to go until sundown, which was only about 3 miles. Given I was walking through the Mesa wind farm, it was…. Very Windy. I only had time for one video on the tent, and it was not enough to figure out how to set up in wind. Given it is hiking pole supported, the structure is rooted in taught staking which I flat couldn’t do in the wind. The last light was almost gone so I debated continuing under headlamp to (maybe) a less windy spot or doing my first cowboy camp, using the closed cell foam sleeping pad I just added to the kit. I chose the latter, literally sleeping in a ditch using my pack for some wind protection and hoping nothing popped out of the bush a foot from my face. This is Type A fun.

I ‘slept’ until first light and was out of my sleeping bag at 5:40 am and hiking by 5:50, one advantage of the cowboy camp. It was an immediate 1,000 foot climb to a saddle and then a traverse and descent to the fabled Whitewater, SoCal’s biggest river, draining the seasonal snow of San Gorgiono and feeding the huge wash that runs by Palm Springs and among the desert cities. I stopped in the warm sun after 3 hours of hiking to have breakfast and do a test set up of the tent: success this time.

I took a stroll to the Whitewater preserve (drawn by actual bathrooms there) where I encountered a group of late elementary kids on a field trip. One boy said ‘Hey sir – were you out camping? How long?’ I replied: ‘yes, a month and I’m walking to Canada.’ The look on his face indicated he was not familiar with the concept of the PCT 😌.

After the break, one of the FarOut comments indicated it was possible to stay right of the main channel and avoid a double ford of the Whitewater, for the 1.5 miles before the PCT officially crosses. False. So in the heat of the day, I strolled off trail in the wash until the main channel decided to veer right into a cliff. And so a triple ford it was. The river lived up to its name, moving fast and churning. It was never more than knee deep but the water pressure was intense and I’m sure glad I had those poles!

The day that started in a ditch ended at the most beautiful campsite yet, where there was no wind, views of Jacinto and Gorgiono and a bit of cell coverage, enough so I talked live to Ashley for the last 45 minutes of her drive, pulling into our home in Issaquah at 10:40 pm Wednesday, just 29 hours after I waved goodbye. My tent was successfully pitched and I think I have the hang of how to stake it first in a windy setting. As I was relaxing at my trail side camp, a few other hikers passed by, including Quaking Leaf and Just 15, who has met on trail and had tackled high San Jacinto section with an awesome array of super ultra light gear and mountaineering tools. Quaking Leaf was a big fan of the Durston tent and gave a tour of its features to Just 15, an awesome part is my first camp with it! As we were chatting, we uncovered that he lives in Edmonds, WA, has a couple teenage kids, and is within a year of my age. He’d grown up in Redmond, 10 miles north of my home (and current) town of Issaquah. To Just 15’s amusement we did a whole array of reminiscing of growing up in these towns in the 80’s. The crown jewel of Issaquah (from a kid’s view) in the mid 80’s was the short-lived water park Waterworks, only open for about 5 years, right on I-90 (where a boring storage facility now stands). The most insane feature was a tube that went into the concrete and shot out of the ground, launching you into a pool, aptly named the Black Hole. Rumor was there were several injuries that were part of the park’s demise, but we both had fond memories, both afraid of it and loving it. A little of the same of what drew us to a life of alpine adventures and to this trail. He had quite a bit more mountaineering experience than me, but this thru hike was a first for us both.

After they moved on, I watched his YouTube video with my sliver of coverage and left a comment, to which he replied and formally bestowed the trail name Black Hole. In thru hiking tradition, it is common to let the name unfold organically, come when it may. And then its up to the bestowed to accept or decline. I pondered for a moment and then concluded it felt just right, and so it is – I’ll introduce myself as Black Hole the balance of this Walk About. The connection to home in another era, my life long fascination with celestial wonders, a centerpiece of a movie I found moving and beautiful (Interstellar), and a tie into the black and red four-leaf clover that is the symbol on the hat I wear for this hike. I often feel a powerful distortion of time, for better and for worse, which flows into my experience with both unusually bad and unusually good luck (striking some kind of fair balance).

I woke the next morning and lingered in camp, watching the sunrise and basking in the glow. Then, in the way it goes on the trail, a day of struggle and tribulation. The next stretch was some 20 miles of relentless up and into the snow above 7,000 feet. That snow was both voluminous and rapidly melting, and the trial first descending 500 feet before beginning the Big Up. It followed the drainage of Mission Creek which can be a trickle midsummer but was roaring away right now. The trail criss crosses the creek at least 28 times. Even running fast, it was still never more than knee deep, but also never possible to cross without wet feet and fighting through the brush that was loving all this water.

Which brings me to another oddity of PCT standard gear. I spent most of my PNW backpacking life hiking in gortex boots of some kind (albeit mixing in sandals and bare feet the last decade). Even on this journey, I started with lightweight semi-waterproof boots before switching for week 3 to the same brand (Altra) non-waterproof, trail runners to ease pressure on the Achilles. Wet feet either from snow or creeks is simply the way. On a long day that may include one sock swap and 30 minutes to air dry during a lunch break. I did the first 10 crossings in my shoes, but damp became squishy and I personally am glad I routinely hike 3 to 7 miles of my days in sandals. Needless to say, the brush and water and questionable route finding left me done for the day after only 9 miles and at 4,800 feet with another 4,000 feet to climb the next day.

It was another 34 miles to go from Thursday’s camp to the highway in to Big Bear for my zero day Monday, and now it’s Tuesday morning around 7, so I have to wrap this post and get back to walking! A few additional thoughts and then off to the next 70 miles:

Friday’s camp was a bit off trail at the local high point, about 8,600 feet, a place of amazing peace and solitude. Views of SoCal’s three highest peaks, not far from the homes of 15 to 20 million people, and yet silence and wilderness. The next day was an early start to hike on more consolidated snow, where I did feel better breaking out the ice ax (and glad I had it along) as a slip would have meant a speedy slide towards some big trees. The strangest part of that day was being surrounded by melting snow, but not a trickle of water for some 15 miles. The ground ate up every drop and I had underestimated water needs, spending some of my limited fuel to melt snow over lunch to generate a liter to get me to a water cache.

Saturday night was a chilly damp one in a forest camp by a creek, and then the final 8 miles to the highway where an amazing Trail Angel named Gina (and her dog Lacey) gave me a lift the 10 miles into town from PCT mile 266. My zero day in Big Bear Lake was memorable, a story for another day. Finishing this on Tuesday April 25th, I’ll set out on foot for a road walk around the lake and then the Cougar Crest connector trail, rejoining the PCT at mile 277, having walked the equivalent distance from where I left the trail!

Black Hole, signing off.