Second Leg: LA to the Sierras

I am writing this from a hostel in Eugene, Oregon. Eugene is a nice place with quaint shops and lots of tattoos. I was this close to quitting. Plane ticket purchased back home, cracked feet healing. The Poison oak I walked through 250 miles ago was just beginning to manifest itself. But, I realized in Klamath Falls that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and it would feel good to finish the trail. Plus, I was beginning to miss the trail. I missed the lakes and mountains, although there hadn't been much of either since Truckee. Yogi, whose guidebook I followed, described this section as the worst of the trail, overgrown with plants both poisonous and benign, and not much in the way of scenery.

Trees in the Desert

        So I have a lot of trail to cover since I last put fingers to keyboard. My Uncle Henry drove me back up to the trail near Wrightwood California, a small mountain town only 2 hours from Los Angeles, but a world apart from the hustle and bustle of the LA basin. The PCT circles the LA basin, clinging to the mountains that make the basin what it is. It is dry up here, but in the desert it seems, with elevation comes life, or at least larger forms of life. Huge pine trees with proportional pine cones stood sentinel over the trail.

Summit of Baden-Powell

 I hiked up Mount Baden-Powell, 9,500 feet tall, and continued to Little Jimmy Campground, my path lit by the full moon. I was wary of a potential cougar attack, so I scanned my peripheries and looked back occasionally, poles at the ready. I only hiked 14 miles the next day despite the new equipment I picked up in LA, new my new Osprey pack, my trekking poles that made me look like an oversized praying mantis, stabbing the ground for stability,  my new JetBoil, a stove that lives up to its name--I was having second thoughts. I mean, it's a long way from Mexico to Canada and I still had so far to go. I got in my tent early, mentally defeated, and watched the sun slide down the sky.

A Serpentine Path through the Sand

      The next day I hiked 33 miles, a personal record, and continued this momentum through the desert, accelerating to the Sierra Nevada. The trail winded down some fire-scarred ridges down into a KOA campground, where Coppertone served Root Beer Floats out of his camper, a most delicious respite (ice cream is the thing I crave most on the trail). The trail continued under a highway into Agua Dulce and then back up along some ridges green with low trees. There is not much water on the stretch out of Agua Dulce and I was reliant on some water caches provided by the Andersons, trail angels who lived somewhat nearby. One cache, "The Oasis" had a cooler full of beer and soda, a blow up Frankenstein figure, and a clown painting. The next day I walked 20 miles along a road to Hikertown. The trail was closed due to a fire from 2013. I hiked the first part of the closed section, which was still green, but apparently became impassable farther in. Many hikers hitched this section, but I thought I'd make up for hitching the earlier fire-closed section.

The "set" of Hikertown

      Hikertown does not have the best reputation along the trail. It looks like an abandoned set from a Western , if that movie were trying to be quaint and cliche. The beds weren't the cleanest, and the people who worked there looked tired. They required a ten dollar "donation" to spend the night. But, it suited me fine.

Alta Windmills near Mojave, largest wind farm in the world

After Hikertown, I hiked 17 miles along the Los Angeles Aqueduct, and then into a desert landscape marked by windmills. I didn't mind the windmills, and thought they offered some relief to the somewhat barren hills. I went into Mojave for a night's stay at a Motel 6, and headed back into the desert the next day. I hiked up into the trees and spent two nights at
springs along the way. The next day, I noticed that there was a 30 mile stretch without water, 42.5 if you didn't want to walk off trail to the source. I resolved to do that 42.5 mile stretch in one day. I started hiking at 5 AM. I took only 4 breaks, enough time to eat and drink. I carried 5 liters of water. Along the way I repeated to myself this mantra "become a monk." I didn't think about much, just the step ahead of me and how far I was from my destination. I arrived at Walker Pass Campground at 8 PM. I didn't expect much, but there was a canopy set up next to a trailer and noise emanating from without. It was Yogi, the writer of my guidebook, a PCT celebrity, and she was serving spaghetti for dinner. I sat down, relieved and ate one of the best meals of my life.

     

From Walker Pass, it was 50 more miles to Kennedy Meadows, the unofficial start of the Sierras. At Kennedy Meadows there was a general store that served good burgers and breakfast and offered trail food at a pricy, but not exorbitant cost. Fortunately, my parents sent me a box loaded with Mountain House Meals. Thanks! This package powered me through the Sierras. Without it, I may have been stranded on the snows of Mather Pass, miles removed from a town, store, resort where I could resupply. I will continue with more updates, covering the ground I have already covered.

An unusual Trail Register