The second week of the trip is where the magic happens: from Julian to Idyllwild

While the first stretch is about getting used to the trail, the second stretch is where the magic really happens.

Note: We’re in a completely different world here, so I made up my own definition of a trail week. A zero is like a weekend. For me, the week begins on the first day after a zero or nero and ends with the next zero.

My zero in Julian was very sad. I was grieving because my sweet kitten passed away the day before. Leaving Julian, I felt incredibly grateful to be there when the news came. For me, that was a magical trail.

And much more magic on the trails was about to happen during this second week.

The magic of the trail is real. But isn’t the whole journey simply magical?

I think it is.

This second week I have been surprised by the kindness of the angels of the path, who really deserve that name.

It’s the entire network of people in trail towns, driving our tired, smelly bodies to and from the trail. It’s the incredible generosity of people who appear out of nowhere to create temporary oases with chairs, fruit, coffee, soft drinks and everything a hiker can dream of. They are the people who maintain water tanks to help us in the dry sections. It’s the people who create small camping areas near the trail, offering water and snacks, or even baking pancakes in the morning. It’s the people in the community centers, hotels and campgrounds who do everything they can to help. It’s the people who instantly become angels of the trail the moment you ask them for a ride.

But isn’t the magic of trails even more than that?

For me, this week was so incredibly beautiful that I kept feeling a deep sense of awe and gratitude for being here. Everything seems like magic. The views, the snakes we found, the hummingbirds that decided to sit next to me, the tiny lizards, the colors of the sky at dusk, and the way hikers somehow reappear just when you think you’ll never see them again.

Sometimes it takes a little convincing to get out of my warm, cozy quilt. But once I start walking, everything seems magical again.

This was the week it really hit me. I’m here. Really out here. And I can experience the beauty of this land every day for a long time.

That is a great gift. It feels like magic.

So how were my days?

Day 7 made me think about how many turns the PCT takes.

Leaving Julian, I was surprised by the variety of large cacti in the first mile. There were many and some were huge.

After the first climb, the trail became more gradual and my pace quickened. The trail winds around the mountains and constantly reminds me of the views of the valley I just came out of. In the distance he could see the mountain range he had crossed before reaching Julián.

This day reminded me how slow hiking really is and how wonderful it is. It is the best way to experience a place up close.

The only source of water today was a cache 22 kilometers deep, so that became my goal. After filling up, I walked a little further to a really nice campsite with a comfortable rock that worked perfectly as a chair.

I felt so happy to be here.

Day 8 is the best trail day so far.

Some days they just shine a little brighter.

Walking is easy, so the miles come naturally. Suddenly, a rattlesnake runs down the trail right in front of my feet. My first. Later that day, I see two more snakes.

I pass the 100 mile mark.

Shortly after, I arrive at an incredible magical trail setting. These trail angels really went all out. As I sit enjoying an apple, another hiker offers me a place to stay in Seattle after the trail ends. That kind of kindness is amazing.

After the magic of the trail, the landscape transforms into dry fields. Suddenly a small oasis appears with a stream and green areas. I sit down and a hummingbird lands just two meters away.

And yet, the day is not over. I finally make it to Eagle Rock and finish the day at the Warner Springs Community Center, where I can do laundry, shower, eat snacks, and meet lots of other hikers.

This day was golden.

Day 9 brings a calm stream and beautiful views.

First, coffee and a breakfast burrito at the community center. A perfect start.

At first I walk through open fields, but soon I reach the valley of the Agua Caliente stream. The climb is steady and following the stream feels calm and peaceful.

After the creek, the views and rock formations take over. I often pause just to admire the mountains and even find myself complimenting them on how beautiful they are.

The 10th is a rough day.

The trail is covered in bushes that leave fine red scratches all over my legs.

But the day is really about the views. They are incredibly beautiful. In front of me I still see huge mountains.

For water, I trust the angels of the trail. First, the water tanks at Mike’s Place, a little out of the way, and then the Benedetti’s, also out of the way. On these dry stretches, water means extra miles.

Day 11 is a pleasure for my belly.

Shortly after I start walking, I am invited to go on magical trails. Pancakes and coffee.

Many hikers spent the night there and they all find it difficult to leave because the trail angels are so kind and generous.

Still, I continue toward Paradise Valley Café, where hikers gather. It’s a fun place to be. I eat a vegan burger and bring some extra food for dinner.

Back on the trail I encounter a large rattlesnake. I compliment him on how beautiful he is, from a safe distance, but he doesn’t seem impressed. I decide to keep moving.

The hike out is hot and my blisters are not happy, making it a difficult stretch. Live Oak Spring is as far as I can go, so I walk about a mile off the trail to get to the water and set up camp.

Day 12 leaves me breathless.

First, because a hummingbird sits next to me at the water fountain. I feel incredibly lucky to witness that moment.

Secondly, because the day involves many steep climbs. Not gradual as in previous days. I really have to work for it.

Third, because the views over the Palm Springs Valley are spectacular, as is the trail itself. My motto is to stop and look, both to catch my breath and to take it all in.

I hike through pine forests, open fields, and along steep rocky edges with incredible views.

In Apache Spring, I walk without my backpack, which feels strange and almost unfamiliar.

I continue a little further and by the time I set up my tent, I am completely exhausted but surrounded by incredible views.

The 13th takes me to Idyllwild.

The day begins with climbing. Along ridges, over and under fallen trees, and around rocks and mountains, I gain elevation.

I cannot put into words the beauty of the San Jacinto Desert.

Suddenly, I’m walking through a pine forest. The trail becomes gradual and calm. I thoroughly enjoy the tranquility and the smell of pine needles.

After one last climb I head down towards Saddle Junction and then continue down to Humber Park. A kind woman takes me to Idyllwild.

The 14th is to rest and do housework.

It’s surprising how much time town chores take.

But it feels good to rest.

There is no route name yet. Not for lack of trying

My Dutch name is almost impossible to pronounce for someone who is not Dutch or Belgian. And along the way, names should be easy to remember.

So people have been trying to give me one.

The first attempt came on day 2. Dancer. An older man there asked me if I was a volleyball player or maybe a dancer, because I looked like one. After telling him that he definitely wouldn’t want to see me dance, I quickly moved on. Another hiker found the situation so funny that he suggested the name Dancer.

But that’s not really the story I want behind my trail name.

Then came Peach, because of the color of my shirt. The next day I met someone wearing the exact same shirt, so I didn’t feel good either.

On the other hand, Dancer. Another hiker told me that my walk seems very agile, like a dancer.

The thing is, I can’t dance at all. I do it often, but it’s not pretty. I would describe my coordination as more clumsy than graceful.

So I’m not sure about this name.

Should I take it?