Fear and sadness on the road

I find it interesting how much courage it takes to start a trip like the PCT. However, how much fear the hikers themselves tend to show. And in the same way, there is a lot of happiness when walking the path, and also a lot of sadness.

Backup

The day outside Big Bear was uneventful. I climbed into a pine forest and skirted around the mountains to meet Holcomb Creek. I hiked with Backflip off the mountain, which is unusual for me to hike with someone. The sudden view of Mount San Antonio after turning a bend was impressive.

While camping at Holcomb Creek, I saw this corrugated metal pipe running under the dirt road. I don’t know why, but I thought it would be fun to slide down the pipe. So after setting up camp, when there was still enough daylight left, I sent it off.

The pipe in question

It wasn’t so much a slide as more of a sit and push. He got through easily enough and then had to sit in the stream cleaning out the gum and leeches that were living in the pipe. But it was a worthwhile experience and made the day more than just a long walk.

A real water park in the countryside

The next day was a big one, my first 20+ mile day. I had been strangely diligent about keeping my days under 20 for the first 3 weeks, a strategy to avoid early overuse injuries. I’m unscathed and feel ready to put in some miles, so maybe that strategy worked.

Chaparral Birdsfoot Trefoil

Either way, I was going to go over 20 miles today since that would put me in a popular spot. Deep Creek Hot Springs. There are 4 hot water pools, the coldest one is called Utero due to its body temperature water. And right next to the hot springs is this deep creek, aptly named Deep Creek.

To get there, Holcomb Creek was followed until it became Deep Creek, indicated by crossing a bridge over the creek. He then followed Deep Creek through its various canyons. The hot springs are only 5 miles from the nearest road, so there were a lot of locals there, but not as many as we thought given it was a Friday night.

The oasis that is Deep Creek Hot Springs

The night of the hot springs

I spent a good 2 more hours soaking in the warm water, jumping and swimming in the 8 foot deep stream. However, many of my fellow hikers were wary of the water. For fear of contracting some disease, they refrained from bathing in the waters. Which I don’t care about or judge them: do your own hike.

It’s interesting to me how much fear they have had to overcome to even be in the hot springs. The fear of job insecurity, social stigma, the outdoors. However, the threat of potential illness was enough to stop its progress. It’s also funny how the same people fill their water bottles from the McDonald’s bathroom sink. Priorities escape me, but to each their own.

A wall of clouds that retains all the humidity on the coastal side of the mountain range.

But it made me think of other inconsistent fears. Like the fear of cowboys camping because of bugs and rodents, but sleeping with their bag of food. Or the fear of injury and yet not sleeping with your water filters at night. Or the fear of losing muscle mass and still carrying an unnecessarily heavy backpack. Maybe I should reflect more on my own fears.

A disappointing pizza

Those were just a few thoughts as I headed out of the deep creek canyon the next morning and up to Silverwood Lake. It was another sudden and impressive sight to behold. But I also had the idea of ​​delivering pizza on my mind, so I appreciated the view as I walked.

The Silverwood Campground for hikers was something of a disappointment. There was drinking water, a bear box, and an “outhouse,” but it wasn’t worth the $10 and having to deal with the RVs. Since it was the weekend, the campsite was packed to the brim.

And the pizza delivery was also booked in the same way. We ordered at 5:30 and didn’t eat until it got dark. It was filling and a great pizza, but not worth the price and wait. However, I did save a whole vegetarian supreme pizza pie myself, so at least I got the calories in.

A race to the McDs

The next morning went quickly. I ended up doing 14 miles at 11am, which was important since it was the 14 miles between me and the infamous Cajon Pass McDonalds. The only McDonalds in operation as it is known. It’s strange how one can get excited about simple things when one lacks comforts. But even skipping breakfast and lunch, that pizza still haunted me. I only saved 2 food orders before leaving. Oh no.

First order after remembering I was taking photos.

I left after securing a spot in Wrightwood for the next night, as the town was filling up quickly. I walked until 5, trying to cover as much distance as possible. Both from the Cajon Pass Highway and Rails, and towards Angles Crest Highway, the supposedly best place to enter Wrightwood.

I met High Tide and Hot Mess at the dirt road campground I ended up at. It was nice to have company in the fog we were slowly being squeezed into. That night the wind blew strongly and the dust spread everywhere. However, I woke up to a beautiful sunrise, so maybe it’s worth the pain.

A trace of sadness

The next day started out great, I even found a stunning view for a midday snack. I’m glad I did because the next turn onto the highway was one of the saddest I’ve encountered so far. The entire pine forest for miles, burned.

It was truly sad to see such devastation, to be walking where a forest was once vibrant. The grass and small animals had returned, but the pine needles had not.

I had mixed feelings for the last 6 miles into town. The clearing of the burned forest was enormous, creating in my mind a second loss of habitat, as even the dead and burned trees still provide a lot. But I’m not a forest expert, maybe this will speed up the recovery.

Logging had downed trees on the trail, tire tracks ripped up the trail and left it exposed to the strongest winds. Of the forest that was once covered with pine trees, only a small grassy part remained. Not even stones to sit on and tree trunks were removed. So I didn’t stop for 6 miles, no break in the wind to stop me.

During those 6 miles, I thought about what it meant to walk this trail during these times. Be on a journey through lands that are undergoing rapid change. I arrived at my destination without a clear answer.

a small town

There was no traffic other than dump trucks on Highway 2 near Angels Crest. I stood at Inspiration Point, a once well-visited place, alone and not very inspired.

Other hikers had called to a corner of the trail and I was lucky enough to get off. Along the way the history of this town developed. The fire happened 2 years ago and the forest is still recovering, but fortunately the city was saved. And then this winter, a serious flood caused even more devastation, which is why all the dump trucks. All this and the local ski resorts have not had real snowfall this season.

So here I am. Reflecting on the last few days, planning the next few days. But hey, halfway to the desert.