PCT Days 24-27: Stagnation, Deep Creek, and Dams

So apparently a LOT more people are following my walk than I originally thought. I posted a poll on my Instagram asking if anyone actually reads these blogs and over 30 people answered yes. THAT! I thought it was just my family following me, as well as the handful of people commenting. I am very grateful for all your support; It definitely motivates me to continue writing. I guess it’s still worth spending half my days in the city blogging.

(Shameless self-promotion: If you want to buy me the coffee that powers these writings, feel free to «tip the author» at the bottom of the page. It will direct you to my Venmo, @keustis. Thanks!!)

(Second side note: apparently my photos have defaulted to large instead of full size. I’m so sorry. It’s now fixed.)

Day 24: Descent to Deep Creek.

I still woke up early, took a shower, made coffee, and sat on the porch watching the birds and squirrels chase the peanuts. They had destroyed the previous night’s offerings. Jan came out a while later and we talked some more, enjoying the wildlife that gathered around us. She went back to making me breakfast while I reluctantly packed my things. This was the first time I wasn’t really looking forward to hiking again. It was going to cost me a lot to get out, more than any other zero stop. I asked him to sign my base sheet and in return he made me sign ‘Welcome PCT Hikers!’ sign his cousin made for her daughter and her friends when they passed through Lake Arrowhead last year. Around 11:30, they drove me back to the trailhead and we said our goodbyes. I loved staying with her and was deeply grateful.

The hike up the straight trail back to the PCT was already hot as I rode along only empty dirt roads (except side-by-sides and dirt bikes). Today’s trail was again pretty boring, going through the brush and following the curves of Deep Creek Canyon from above. I was not used to seeing so much water in the desert. I ran into Kevin, a hiker I met at CLEEF on my first day. That was a blast from the past. We chatted for a while and also signed my land sheet. During my walk I finished Thirst and started The Rediscovery of America: Native Peoples and the Destruction of American History by Ned Blackhawk. I was intrigued by this book after watching the author’s interview on Wired and it’s been really interesting so far.

I did just under 10 miles during the day and camped next to a small creek crossing. I arrived around 4pm and took a short nap before dinner. Wow, I needed it. I woke up at 6pm and hurriedly prepared dinner, as at that time the wind died down, allowing the mosquitoes to come out. It was still warm as I relaxed in my tent, enjoying the sunset.

Day 25: California to hell.

Two miles later, an old man with long white hair, a long white beard, a black long-sleeved shirt and nothing else greeted my arrival at Deep Creek Hot Springs.

‘Welcome! This is the best zero point on the road!’ he proclaimed. It was 7:30 in the morning.

‘Oh, thanks, but I’m just passing through.’ He was wearing sunglasses, so he could pretend to look up as a form of recognition, but he wasn’t really looking. I’d seen my share of withered appendages at work in a university cadaver lab, but this was a living person and it was too early for this shit.

I’m so glad I didn’t camp here.

It was noted that the hot springs were a clothing optional location, as indicated by FarOut’s comments, so this was not an unexpected sight. It also appeared to be a haven for engaging in life’s synthetic pleasures, as there was a container of Narcan under a sign. It wasn’t a place I felt like hanging out, so I moved on quickly.

It was another long, hot day traversing the canyon. Graffiti plagued the walls. Unfortunately we were close to civilization as evidenced by vandalism and sometimes litter. I exited the canyon and marveled at the Mojave River Dam, as well as the natural debris high in the trees, indicative of how far the flood waters had reached. I got water at this spring and chatted with another hiker, who was able to tell me that the snow-covered mountain was actually Baldy, not Baden-Powell. Later, at the highway intersection where hikers could head to the Joshua Inn, a local saloon and campground, I spoke briefly with a curious man about my trip so far. I was having a Pavlovian response to the pictures of the inn’s deli menu stapled to the posters, but I couldn’t stop.

It was a more boring and hot hike, but nice to see Mount Baldy and the plateau of the Hesperia area. It appeared to be formed similarly to the Yakima River Canyon. I continued with my book and saw my first rattlesnake while eating lunch. I didn’t have to do anything, he was kind of away and minding his own business. This was quickly followed up the trail later with a rosy boa and gopher snakes, a trifecta of snakes.

Passing the Mojave and Silverwood Dams, I felt tiny. The rest of the trail wasn’t as fun as the winds picked up and almost pushed me down. We were in the state park, so dispersed camping was not allowed. This brought my total for the day to over 23 miles, a bit extraordinary. Silverwood Lake reminded me of my beloved Lake Champlain, with mountains rising above the shoreline while white ridges crowned the deep blue water. I limped the last two miles and responded to some stray dogs. At camp, there was no one around except Bunny, a girl he had met near Big Bear, and her hiking friends. This was a paid campground, but it was Sunday night, foggy, and starting to get cold. I never saw a ranger. At dinner, I spilled the water intended for a ramen bomb, which put another damper on my mood. Fortunately they had taps to refill. At night, something big was sniffing around my tent, but I was too tired to care. Later I realized it was probably a bear.

Day 26: Birthdays, bears, Big Macs.

I woke up at 5:30 but didn’t get up until 6:15. I was starting to rack up the miles and although I wasn’t walking very fast, I wanted to maximize the daylight hours so I started setting early alarms. I think the bear probably smelled my slightly damp and nauseated shoes and socks, and decided not to feast.

I started heading up the west side of the lake on the windy morning when I turned a corner and saw a black bear in the middle of the trail. Medium-sized, probably female, with dark fur, it appeared to be searching for food. We looked at each other for a second, my brain needing time to recognize that this was really happening. I raised my voice a little, greeting the bear. Immediately, as if he knew what ‘Hello bear!’ That is, he launched himself towards the trees. I continued talking as I heard her move further into the brush. Wow. I looked back from time to time for the next two miles to make sure the coast was clear. I didn’t feel fear, just surprise. All of this happened in the span of 15 seconds.

The trail followed humming power lines, no doubt transporting turbine-generated power from the dams. The descent into Cajon Pass was fiercely windy, pushing me into the mountains. I’m SICK OF this DAMN wind! Slowly, frustratingly, I reached Interstate 15, greeted by a foul smell, traffic noise, and a wooden sign pointing to Mecca-donald’s. Yes, McDonald’s. The unofficial but official PCT McDonald’s was an icon of Cajon Pass and the trail itself. Inside the cool dining room, I easily consumed 1,600 calories, including half of another hiker’s large fry-up, but I was still hungry when I left. My hiker hunger had finally arrived.

I wished my mom a happy birthday and enjoyed the late lunch before getting back on the road. BNSF trains several miles long passed through the pass constantly, honking their horns. A freight train I followed was estimated to be 3.3 miles long. It took me eight minutes to get through completely. Piles of cargo containers or oil tankers were heading to or coming from seaports, ready to pick up or deliver new products for the US market. The landscape began to resemble scenes from Radiator Springs from Cars. I arrived at my camp six miles later at Swarthout Canton, where there was a huge water tank, about 100 gallons. The girl who maintained it was here replacing the empty ones. I enjoyed cold soaked ramen for dinner and initially the cowboy made camp before the drizzle arrived. I set up my tent in the dark at 3am hoping it would be good enough.

Day 27: The trail delivers!

My initial plan was just 15 miles to get to the campground closest to Acorn Trail and then get to Wrightwood the next day. It actually ended up being about 18 miles. A long, rainy climb to almost 8,000 feet was almost my entire day. It was certainly a pain and my book, although interesting, did not motivate my feet to spin faster. After a steady climb all day, I arrived at my prospective campsite, when I realized it had a serving bar. I saw that Trash Panda had sent me a text message saying that he had arrived in town and would be spending the night with a tracker angel. I, on the other hand, spent the afternoon dodging ice falling from tree branches and my shoes were soaked. Desperate, I asked if there was room for one more. There was.

I almost ran down the steep, desolate Acorn Trail into town. 2.5 miles of very recently burned area characterized by orange pine needles and blackened bleeds. It was steeper than Devil’s Slide in Idyllwild and wasn’t the typical way hikers get to town; They usually walk another seven miles to the Angeles Crest Highway, but I was running out of daylight. At the trailhead, Christy, a Wrightwood local, greeted me and took me to her house. She had worked as a trail angel for over twenty years and I was the 79th hiker of the season. At his house, he fed us and his family lasagna for dinner, let us use the shower, and had a warm room to sleep in. We also decorated ornaments commemorating our time there. This was the ultimate path angel and I was very grateful. To think I was about to camp in freezing temperatures, probably eat cold ramen, and now I was eating lasagna and sleeping in a cozy house. The trail really provides.

See you next time!