Where, Oh Where, Has My Water Gone?

(Thursday May 8, 2008)
Last night I slept at the Heart Bar campground which was a ways off the PCT down a California Hiking and Riding trail. Problem was, after walking for about a half hour down the trail, there was no campground and the spring that was supposed to be a half mile down in case you didn't want to walk all the way to the campground, was either dry or I'm blind. Probably blind, but either way I didn't see it.

So after a 24 mile day, I was ready to settle in, but unfortunately there was no campground at the end of the line, so I just parked it in a flat spot and sat down to rest.

Scratch that. I never really sat down until I climbed in my sleeping bag because it was after 7:00 and I was somewhere around 8000 feet which means that when the sun starts to go down the temperature doesn't linger for even a second at anything close to comfortable. It's warm until it's not. Then it's freezing.

Adding to the problem was my sweat-soaked clothing and empty stomach, so when I found the flat spot to camp, it was like a grenade went off inside my pack.

Stuff went everywhere. Clothes, bags, equipment strewn about this tiny area while I "made" dinner, which consisted of me eating a piece of cold pre-cooked chicken breast and a bag of Pop Tarts.

Then because I saw a spider on my bag, I figured ants couldn't be far away (how I reasoned that one is beyond me) so instead of packing away my garbage, I strategically placed it at points a good bit away from my stuff to lure the ants away from me (again, the basis for this reasoning is slightly less than sound).

So after crawling into my bag (completely ignoring my pre-sleep trail cleanliness regimen) I realize that by not packing the stuff away, I could be attracting animals that otherwise wouldn't smell the garbage in the first place...then I decided it was too cold to get out of my bag and went to sleep. Luckily no animals appeared, at least that I know of.

Morning wasn't much better. I decided to eat the Pop Tarts with dinner because I thought I had two packages left. Well, my last package was devoured as the side to my chicken à la antarctica, so wouldn't ou know I had dinner for breakfast. Except this time it was pieces of chicken instead of a whole breast - pieces in icy cold broth that I was fishing out with my finger because I was too lazy to get out my spork. The whole experience was enough to make me want to vomit the entire meal despite being very hungry. Weirdly enough I would have been happy in a way if that happened, but quickly enough there were other things coming up to distract and anger me (of course based on my excellent planning skills).

Because of a lack of campground or spring the night before, I was down to one and a half liters of water to start the next day. It really wasn't too big of a deal because Coon Creek was 4 miles away and I could get some from there.

Fast forward to 8:30 and I start loking for some water flow. I head down the jeep road which is supposed to intersect with the creek, and pissed off and tired, I return waterless at 9:50.

So now I've got just over a liter and 9 miles to go before the next definite water source. After that experience, I think I have a small inkling of what it might be like to be an addict.

Because I'll be in Big Bear City Friday morning, I knew I would be able to get whatever I wanted to drink short of absinthe, so I was fixated on anything cold. Ice water, milk, apple juice, beer, Gatorade, you name it - I was ready to sell my soul to quench my thirst. I vowed that the second I got into Big Bear, I'd head to the first restaurant I could find and order a large glass of milk, apple juice, a pitcher of ice water and tell the waitress to keep them coming.

It was taking every ounce of mental strength not to down every bit of water that I had, to sip slowly and in small gulps. Absolutely tortuous. Like being stranded at sea. Water, water everywhere and none to drink. Even a bear wasn't enough to distract me.

I'm walking around mile 249 and all of a sudden I hear this noise that sounded like the noise Barry White would make if he were a massive yawning dog.

I thought to myself, that kind of sounded like a lion or a bear. And it went on for like 30 seconds, but because I didn't want it to be a bear, I convinced myself it was someone starting up their weird sounding dirt bike.

But, lo and behold, I come to a jeep road and I look up and see a woman hosing off a bear in a cage. Talk about your surreal sights. Apparently there is a ranch there in the middle of the woods with - pardon the overused phrase - lions and tigers and bears (you probably said "Oh my!" on your own, so I didn't write it).

I don't know what they do with these animals, but there were cages with massive bears in them. Unfortunately I didn't get to see my 2nd favorite animal and former school mascot the tiger, but I guess I could always go back if I wanted to. That or India. Or Africa. Or a zoo. Whichever way.

So of course the woman was hosing the bear down and I thought for some time whether she would do the same for me if I asked her, but decided to just keep trudging on.

And let me tell you that a mile later, I literally gasped and let out some other weird noise before quietly exclaiming "Water!" to myself as 50 feet in front of me was a water cache left courtesy of the Nature's Inn and Big Bear Hostel. A shrewd tactic, but effective nonetheless as my current residence is in fact the Big Bear Hostel (sorry Nature's Inn, this place was cheaper and closer to the action).

I only took a liter from the cache (so much for my endless flow of drinks for breakfast on Friday), but after fillig the bottle with Gatorade powder, it felt like I had just been put through my first orgy. Overly satisfied, slightly damp, unsure how I got there, and thanking the Big Bear Hostel and Nature's Inn for their gift from heaven. Although I think after (and probably during) an orgy people thank God and not independent California hoteliers, but then again, what do I know about orgies?

Walking Through a Wind Farm

(Wednesday May 7, 2008)
The toughest day followed by the most annoying day.

After walking 15 miles to the nearest water source (while at the same time descending around 4000 feet, which is hard on the knees), I get lost for 15 minutes walking along a road which the trail clearly crosses over and continues Northwest, a fact which I chose to acknowledge via map and then still ignore.

One of the problems with getting lost for 15 minutes on this part of the trail is that it is an area on which a rather large wind farm was built, meaning - you guessed it - it was fucking windy.

Walking through the massive open field between Snow Creek, CA and I-10 is probably the closest thing you'll ever experience to a low grade hurricane, but without the risk of death.

Some of the gusts were so strong that they stood you up and you couldn't move. Very fun when you're trying to walk 4 miles across.

The best part is that because the winds are so strong, there is no actual trail because the wind would just keep shifting the sands and erasing it. So while trying not to get blown over, you have to scan your surroundings and look for the next five foot high post with a PCT marker on it (some of which, of course, have been blown over). Also a very fun task.

(By the way, two dragonflies just landed on a stick in front of me and are now mating...finally some action on this trip!)

Luckily once I crossed under the highway, the wind started to blow at my back, so going up some hills, it literally carried me up. While a welcome change, it also forced me to run on the downhills or fall on my face or off the side of the trail. Yay nature!

So after miles and more miles, I start to get hungry (this is around 5:00) and I start to look for a good campsite. But this being the PCT, there was absolutely no place to camp until 7:00 unless I wanted to take my chances with a steep hill, or sleep directly on the rocky uneven trail.

Luckily I was able to camp at the Whitewater Preserve, which sits along Whitewater Creek around mile 219. It had picnic tables and bathrooms, which was very nice, but because there is such an abundance of water unlike everywhere else in the desert, they also have sprinklers to water the grass and trees.

So wouldn't you know I wake up to find my sleeping bag covered in little beads of water, which had soaked into the down feathers of my bag. Also my shirt, which had been hanging in a tree, fell off the branch and was a soaking mess when I went to put it on. Yay abundance of water!

Earlier today, Squatch, a guy who makes PCT documentaries stopped and chatted with me and asked if I had anything interesting to say for an interview. My response: "Eh...I got nothing."

Slipping and Sliding

(Monday May 5, 2008)
Snow on the trail is not fun. I was hiking with a guy named oPa and both of us fell off the trail and started sliding doewn the mountain. YEE HAW!

I probably should have been more scared but then I remembered I own this bitch. Ok,not really, but I'm definitely buying an ice axe before I hit the Sierras.