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Big Bear to Wrightwood
Monday, May 8: Delamar Mountain -- @ 16 miles + .6 (283.5)
We didn’t get much sleep last night. Too much noise from hikers talking, a punk band playing nearby, traffic on the road, plus too much light, twitchy feet and too much sugar and caffeine. We slept only a couple of hours, then went to breakfast with some other hikers, walked over to the post office to check for mail, then finally headed back to the trail. A very nice Hispanic family from Los Angeles picked us up and took us out to the trailhead. They were quite intrigued by what we are doing.
The morning hike was nice, first in sage and pinion around Gold Mountain, then up into the firs and pines again. A rattlesnake scared me by rattling as I passed.
The other hikers are spread out all over the place. There are several alternate ways into Big Bear, and we used all of them. In the case of John and Drew, they walked right past the road into town, and kept going another 3 or 4 miles to a side trail. The Menacing Vegetables planned to get a ride so they could climb Mt. San Gorgonio. It isn’t near the trail, but it is a big snowy mountain that is probably fun to climb. If the trail won’t oblige with worthwhile short-term goals, some people make up their own. Going from town to town just isn’t the same as saying, “I climbed to the highest point, hurray!” Some of the hikers were planning to slackpack a few miles, then head back to town. We may not see most of them again, at least until the next town, when we’ll accordion up again. Marc from New Hampshire showed up this morning. He left Idyllwild a day behind us. He told us that British Mark was off the trail (temporarily as it turned out. He was having trouble with the heat and a too heavy pack, so decided to lighten his load.) Guy had severe knee problems, exacerbated by the long descent off Fuller Ridge, and decided to stop hiking. Guy was more of a bicyclist than a hiker in any case, out on the PCT only because his fiancee wanted to do the trail before they get married. (As it turned out, he went to Phoenix to pick up Kerstan’s truck and acted as trail support for her all the way to Canada.) The two boys with the dogs left the trail in Idyllwild, and Peter Haskell got off at Anza. I was sorry to hear that.
We had a pleasant stroll through the woods on a cool and sunny afternoon. We had occasional views of Big Bear Lake with the snow-covered San Gorgonio Wilderness behind it and views on the other side of the ridge of open pit mines. We met a couple of mountain bikers and a day hiker. Most of the time I was in the groove, just flowing with the trail, thinking odd thoughts and heading off on wild mental tangents. We had gotten enough water at lunch to carry us overnight since I didn’t really want to have to push to make the next spring at Little Bear Campsite. With our late start, that would have made a long day. Jim’s foot is still very painful, and mine were certainly ready to stop when we did.
Tuesday, May 9: Deep Creek -- @ 21.5 miles (305)
The morning hike was easy gentle up and down in forest and rocks, often near creeks. It has been pretty, though the very narrow soft trail is not great. We’re making good time, despite frequent long breaks. Just taking it easy. We are entering a burned zone from a fire last year. So far, it is intermittent, though the smell permeates everything. We had lunch beside Holcomb Creek. I had been longing for a bath, so we stopped by the creek, where I took off my clothes and waded in. The water was very cold, so I just splashed a bit before retiring to shore. There are flowers in the burned areas, especially a pretty tiny purple one with a white center. Not much fire weed though. A couple of ducks joined us at lunch.
This afternoon we climbed up and over a ridge to Deep Creek, a steep narrow canyon with a lot of water in it. We hiked far above the water for several miles until we found a semi-flat side ridge where we could stop for the day. That’s one of the problems with trail that contours along a ridge: no campsites. It was a long way down to the water, and few if any spots down there as the canyon is so narrow, and it’s just as far up to the top of the ridge. The trail is only a foot or two wide, cut into the cliff. Erosion is the other problem with sidehill. There have been a lot of slides, making the trail a bit difficult in spots. In others, horses have knocked off the edges of the trail, making the treadway very narrow. Anyhow, the burn remained intermittent. The far side of the creek is mostly burned, our side not as much, though that was a part of our difficulty in finding a place to set up for the night. We didn’t want to lay the sleeping bags down in ash. That can be very hard to clean off. My pants have black marks all over them from burned bushes and rocks. There were lots of flowers again, especially the purple ones: lupine, chia, and phacelia, among many others. We scared off a baby rattlesnake, only a foot long, and another striped snake later.
It was pretty looking down at the creek, though lack of access meant we each had to carry a gallon of water for the last five miles. As it turned out, it is possible to get down to the river from our campsite, though the way is a bit steep. I went down to wash up, and Jim ended up coming after me since I was gone so long. It’s about five miles from our campsite to the next place where the trail goes near the creek at a hot spring. I would have liked to go that far — a hot bath sounds wonderful — but not if it means a 25 mile day. My feet aren’t ready for that. It is very peaceful here. We have seen no people all day. There is just the sound of birds and the water tumbling below us. The sun will sink below the cliff soon, though it won’t be dark for a while. We were too tired to keep going, especially with flat spots so few and far between.
Wednesday, May 10: Silverwood Lake — 21.1 (327.4)
It was an odd morning, both good and bad. We woke early, but took our time getting started and arrived at the hot spring around 9:00. We stopped for a swim in the pools, which we shared with Brad, Emily and Sundance. The hot pool was nice and warm, the cold wonderfully refreshing, and the water was deep enough to really swim. We didn’t stay in very long, just long enough to get a taste of the peace and beauty. It was really nice, a lovely oasis in the burned canyon.
As we were putting on our shoes, a BLM ranger came along, prepared to cite us for camping illegally and being in a closed area. He said that the trail was closed because of the fires last year. We explained that we hadn’t camped there and that we had seen no indications that the trail was closed, and in fact, had been told via the PCTA website that the trail was open. He all but called us liars, and tried several times to trip us up. He wouldn’t believe that we were thruhikers, and that we had come in from the south instead of the local (closed) trail. It wasn’t until Jim began to doctor the huge blister on his foot, utterly nonchalant, that he started to buy our story. I guess he figured that anyone who could continue to walk with that mess might actually be a long distance hiker. Finally he sent us on our way, though even that got confusing when he said we couldn’t go back on the trail the way we had come, or forward on the trail that was closed. Eventually he said to just go ahead on the PCT and watch out for trail crews. We met none and saw little sign that they had been there recently. When we left, the others were still in the pools and hadn’t met the ranger. I worried that he would cite them for camping there, if not for the closed trail issue. The whole episode was really upsetting. The ranger was one of the stiff and rigid kind -- occasionally friendly, but mostly a jerk. He said he was actually out looking for some naked guy who has been harassing women hikers in the area. We just got in the way. It is odd, because the trail, while it has some washouts, is still passable. Maybe not for horses, but certainly it was okay for hikers. We saw no signs telling us that the trail was closed until we reached the trailhead several miles north of the hot springs.
We followed trail above the creek to an enormous dam (as Jim called it, “a California project” — totally excessive) where the trail got very obscure. We crossed the dam, then headed off on an old road to the creek beside it, but there were no markings to be seen. Most of the time the PCT is really easy to follow, so this was odd. We saw an odd lizard that looked more like a snake, with a long body, viper head, and tiny legs. Someone later told me that it was a skink.
The trail wound through the chaparral for several miles, in and out of small gullies. Descending one, we spotted a sheriff looking at a shot-up van. From the tracks, it hadn’t been there long, probably only overnight. The driver had driven it though brush barricades onto the hidden trail, then someone spent a long while shooting holes in it. Combined with the earlier story of the pervert harassing hikers, this made me nervous. We followed a dirt road out to the highway, where we knew there was a small store. We called PCTA to ask about the status of Deep Creek. Joe said that as far as he knew, the trail was open. That was what the recorded trail report said too. We suggested he let the BLM know that, so they would leave the PCT hikers alone. We had a long chat with Larry, the owner of the store, as we ate ice cream and drank cokes. He seemed glad of the company. Finally, about 5:30 we headed up the paved road to the State Park at Silverwood Lake where we searched for a hidden campsite where we wouldn’t be near any roads or boats, and would be out of sight and sound, we hope, of troublesome intruders. I didn’t want to camp near the shot up van. It was obviously an area where the locals dump their trash and shoot up the remains. (Ever see a Swiss cheese dryer? We did.) We’re sore and tired, but with a nice sugar buzz.
Thursday, May 11: Swarthout Canyon — 22.6 + 1 (350.0)
It was quite cool all morning, with a cold breeze blowing. Yesterday the winds were really fierce, knocking us back and forth. Today’s were gentler, but colder. We wound around Silverwood Lake, a big recreational area, and up into the hills beyond. The vegetation is all chaparral, with tall bushes and a few shade trees. There is a lot of poison oak, and even some poison ivy. There are a few flowers, but not an abundance, mostly lupine, paintbrush and prickly pear, as well as a pretty yellow flowering bush, probably Fremontia. Jim’s feet are still a problem, blisters on both and the ever-present stone bruise (actually a broken bone, though we didn’t figure that out for another 1200 miles.) He keeps going, but some days, every step hurts. We set up camp last night on top of some ant hills. They kept us awake, crawling all over us. Heading toward Cajon Pass, where the trail crosses Interstate15, we could see trucks ten miles away. There was a pretty little canyon with a creek leading up to the freeway. It would be a nice place to camp, except that it is so close to the interchange.
For hikers, the highlight of Cajon Pass is the MacDonalds and mini-mart at the highway interchange. I felt utterly alienated at MacDonalds, watching all the travelers come and go. Culture shock. I felt invisible. I think if people saw the packs, they just assumed we were homeless, or something. Weird. We ate too much, then happily went up into the hills looking for a campsite. I goofed and put the next guidebook section in the Wrightwood box, so we don’t have a trail description for the next 25 miles. Oops. While the trail is generally well marked, in ‘civilized’ areas blazes can be scarce, but we managed all right, despite the freeway and a couple of railroad tunnels and tracks. Once past “civilization,” the trail wound around the hills on narrow sidehill. The country was interesting, with big boulders and sandstone bluffs. It was a late hiking day. The noise of the freeway followed us for miles. By the time we crossed the ridge to get away from the noise, we had run out of flat spots. We ended up camped in a dry wash at the bottom of the ridge. Tomorrow we climb.
Friday, May 12: Guffy Campground — 16.8 miles (366.8)
We had a good day climbing up into the San Gabriels. It was a long way up, but very gentle. Around noon, we met our friend Dave Fleishman, who now lives in LA and came up to spend the weekend with us. It was really good to see him again. We also ran into Doug and Christa, slackpacking in the other direction. They had hitched into town from Cajon Pass in order to get their maildrop before the weekend, then decided to walk back to Cajon sans pack. We are back up at 8000’, camped at a small primitive campground with a view of snowy mountains in one direction and burned forest in the other. It is cold and windy. Dave kept saying he didn’t remember this place when he hiked the PCT, but then, he hiked in a high snow year, and the campground was totally buried when he went through. I’m glad this is a low snow year. I can handle small stretches, but continuous snow gets very wearing.
A couple of motorcycles came up the trail while we were eating lunch and almost ran us over. They are forbidden on the PCT, but we see a lot of tire tracks. We refused to move out of their way and waved them back to the dirt road a mile or so back from which they came. I was irritated. I was also badly frightened since they came very close to running into Jim as they came around the corner. Actually, they should have thanked us, as there were some really bad blowdowns on the trail that would have been impossible for them to pass not far from where we met them.
Saturday, May 13: Wrightwood — 5 miles (371.8)
Easy ups and downs took us out to the Crest Highway. There was more snow than expected on the trail--hard, icy drifts. We ran into several runners along the way. Once at the highway, things got more difficult. There was little traffic, and most was going the other way. Finally, a man came over to his parked car with his dogs. I went over to him and said, “Can you please take one or all of us into Wrightwood? We’ve been trying for hours, and no one will stop.” He agreed to take only one of us, so Dave got a lift to his car in town and came back to pick us up. There is a side trail that goes into town, but it seemed like it would be easier to get a ride than to walk an extra four miles each way, especially given the climb back out with full packs. Apparently, I was wrong. When Dave came through on his PCT thruhike, the road wasn’t even open.
We stopped at the post office and discovered that it isn’t open on Saturday, so we’re stuck in town until Monday. Oh well, we had planned to take a day off, this will just add a bit to that. Dave suggested we slackpack the next section, over Mt. Baden-Powell, with his help. The trail crosses the highway several times, and he could drop us off so we would walk back to town, without our packs, then go back to where we left the trail the next day. However, given how difficult it was getting a ride today, we may pass on that. Anyhow, we ate lunch, quickly skimmed our e-mail (half hour limit at the library), got a room for half price, did laundry, went to the grocery and talked a lot. It was a nice day--not very productive, but fun.
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